Three Seconds of Glory

Marcus felt like a total spy, crouched behind the cafeteria's recycling bin, phone clutched in his sweaty palm. He was technically just waiting for track practice to start, but really he was waiting for Maya to walk by so he could time his 'casual' exit perfectly.

'You good?' His bestmate Ben loomed over him, looking concerned.

'I'm strategically positioned,' Marcus lied, straightening up and trying to look like he hadn't just spent ten minutes lurking.

'Whatever you say, creep.' Ben glanced toward the lunch line. 'Also, you've got spinach in your teeth. Massive green forest situation happening there.'

Marcus's heart sank. Of course. The one time Maya actually noticed his existence, and he looked like he'd been eating salad underwater. This was the problem with his entire life—he was always the guy with spinach in his teeth while everyone else was busy being effortlessly awesome.

His phone buzzed. His mom's goldfish was 'acting weird' again, which basically meant she wanted him to come home and stare at it.

'My goldfish is depressed,' Marcus told Ben.

'Your goldfish has a three-second memory. It doesn't have the capacity for depression.'

'You don't know its life. Maybe it's dealing with some real stuff.'

Ben rolled his eyes so hard it looked painful. 'You've got that meet tomorrow. You need to be locked in. No distracted energy. Coach will literally have a meltdown if you don't place.'

The 400-meter. Marcus's special brand of torture. A whole lap of sprinting until your lungs felt like they were trying to escape your body. But Maya would be there watching, which somehow made it both worse and exactly what he wanted.

'Why do you even run?' Ben asked, for probably the hundredth time. 'It's just running around in a circle. Literally pointless.'

'Maybe I like the pain,' Marcus said, only half-joking.

'That's called being a masochist, bro.'

The truth was, Marcus liked that when he was running, nobody could say anything to him. No spinach incidents, no awkward encounters, no feeling like everyone was speaking a language he'd barely started learning. Just him, the track, and three hundred meters of pure forward motion.

'I saw Maya looking at you yesterday,' Ben said suddenly, way too casual.

Marcus's stomach did something complicated. 'Bull.'

'Swear on my life. She asked who you were.'

'And what did you say?'

'I said you're the guy with the depressed goldfish.'

Marcus groaned, but he was smiling. Because suddenly the spinach incident didn't matter, and neither did the goldfish or the fact that he was definitely going to overthink everything. Tomorrow, when he was running that last hundred meters, lungs burning and legs screaming, he'd have something real waiting at the finish line.

Maybe that's what growing up felt like—a whole lot of awkward moments and uncomfortable conversations, but occasionally, just occasionally, someone noticed you anyway.