Track Shadows

Maya pressed her phone against her locker door, heart doing that weird fluttery thing it always did when she felt like a total creep. She'd been lowkey **running** Maya's Instagram for twenty minutes now—just checking, not stalking, there's a difference—watching the popular girl's stories unfold like a highlight reel of a life Maya didn't have. Maya: track team, decent grades, friends with exactly two people who barely texted back. Maya: the human **spy** of sophomore hall, cataloging who sat with whom, who wore what, who mattered.

"You're doing it again," said Jessie, sliding onto the bench beside her. Jessie was the kind of friend who somehow saw everything, even when you thought you were invisible. "The staring thing. At your phone like it holds the secrets of the universe."

"I'm not—" Maya started, then stopped. Because she was. "Fine. Maybe."

"Maya's story again?" Jessie didn't wait for an answer. "You know she's just a person, right? Like, a deeply flawed human being who probably stresses about everything you stress about?"

"Easy for you to say," Maya muttered. "You're not invisible."

"I'm literally wearing neon green right now."

"That's not what I—" Maya broke off as the track coach's whistle pierced the air. Practice. Because apparently feeling inadequate wasn't enough, she had to literally **run** in circles while doing it.

"Hey," Jessie said softly. "After practice, let's go get those nasty slushies you like from the corner store. My treat."

"You don't have to—"

"I want to. You're my best **friend**, Maya. The popular kids are all out here playing a game you're not even interested in. Why do you care what they're doing?"

The question hit Maya like a physical thing. Why *did* she care? Why did she spend her free time digitally **spying** on people who wouldn't look twice at her in the halls?

"I don't know," Maya said finally. "Maybe I just want to matter."

"You DO matter," Jessie said, so fiercely that Maya actually believed her for a second. "To me. To your parents. To the track team—Coach literally talks about your potential every practice. Stop **running** toward people who don't see you and start looking at the ones who already do."

The whistle blew again, louder this time. Maya stood up, stretching her hamstrings, and something inside her shifted. Not dramatically—this wasn't a movie moment—but enough. Enough to pocket her phone without checking it one last time. Enough to feel genuinely excited about slushies with Jessie afterward. Enough to maybe, finally, stop **running** from herself.