Three Feet from the Top

Maya's palm was sweating. Again.

She wiped it on her jeans—third time in two minutes—and tried to focus. The cafeteria social pyramid spread before her like some terrifying architectural wonder: the varsity cheerleaders at the apex, followed by the soccer team, then the theater kids (who thought they were counterculture but still somehow landed in tier three), and everyone else scattered below. Maya and her best friend Priya occupied the basement level, along with the debate team and that guy who brought a ukulele every day.

"He's looking at you," Priya whispered, nudging Maya's arm with her yogurt spoon.

Maya's heart did that annoying fluttery thing. "No he's not."

"Yes he is. And you're doing that thing where your face gets all—"

"My face is fine."

"Your face is having a reaction."

Torian was new this year, transferred from some private school across town. He sat with the soccer players but seemed vaguely miserable about it, like he'd been assigned there by mistake. Yesterday in bio, he'd asked to borrow a pencil, and Maya had handed him one while simultaneously forgetting how to speak English. She'd just made a sound that might have been a grunt or maybe a dying cat.

Now he was walking toward their table.

Maya's palm developed a new leak.

"Hey," Torian said. "Maya, right?"

She nodded, terrified she might accidentally say "no" out of sheer nerves.

"I was wondering," he continued, casual, like this happened every day, "if you'd want to maybe..."

The cafeteria went weirdly silent. Or maybe that was just in her head.

"...run track with me?" he finished. "After school. I see you running sometimes, on the trail behind the old gym. You're fast."

Maya blinked.

"Oh." She blinked again. "You—you see me?"

"Yeah. You've got good form. Better than half the team." He grinned, suddenly. "Also you're the only person I know who can beat my PR."

The social pyramid in her head did something that felt suspiciously like crumbling.

"So?" Torian raised an eyebrow. "Unless you're scared I'll leave you in the dust."

Maya smiled. "In your dreams, private school."

"Tomorrow, then."

"Tomorrow."

As he walked away, Priya grabbed Maya's hand. "Did that just happen?"

Maya looked down at her palm—still sweaty, still shaking, still real.

"Yeah," she said. "Yeah, it did."