Track Squad Secrets

Maya's thumb hovered over the screen, her **iphone** glowing in the darkness of her closet. She'd been **running** the same recon mission for three weeks now—watching Jordan's stories, calculating when to bump into him at his locker, timing her track practice exits perfectly.

"You're being a total creep," her best friend Kia had said earlier. "But like, valid creep energy. He's fine."

Maya was the new girl, still figuring out where she fit in the social ecosystem. Cross-country had been her entry point—**running** was something she could control, something that made sense. Put one foot in front of the other, repeat until your lungs burned and your mind went quiet. No invisible rules. No fear of saying the wrong thing.

But then she'd seen him at the meets. Jordan, who ran like he was chasing something invisible, who always finished third but smiled like he'd won. And Maya had become a low-key **spy**, gathering intel: his post-meet ritual (chocolate milk from the cafeteria), his music (surprisingly into old-school indie), his tendency to practice extra starts behind the equipment shed when he thought no one was watching.

The school mascot—a massive papier-mâché **bear** head named Buster—loomed over the gym entrance. "Buster sees all," the cross-country captain joked during carb-load pasta night. That's when it happened. Jordan slid onto the bench beside her, his shoulder brushing hers.

"I see you at practice," he said, not looking at her. "You've got form. Could use work on your kick though."

Maya's heart did something illegal. "You've been watching me?"

Jordan shrugged, but his ears turned pink. "Maybe. I mean, we're literally the only two distance runners who stay late. Hard not to notice."

They'd been texting non-stop since. Turns out, she hadn't been the only one observing.

Now, Maya's thumb finally pressed the call button. Jordan answered on the second ring.

"So," he said, and she could hear the smile in his voice. "You coming to the meet tomorrow, or what?"

Maya smiled at her reflection in the dark window. "Wouldn't miss it."

She wasn't a spy anymore. She was exactly where she belonged.