One
The track feels different today. It’s too hot, the air too thick, and my head’s buzzing like it’s about to explode. But I can’t think about that. I shake out my arms, trying to focus, but I can feel her next to me, like she’s stealing all the oxygen.
Harper Dawson.
Of course, she’s in the lane right next to mine. She’s always there, always in my way. My pulse is already racing, and we haven’t even started yet.
I glance over at her. She’s stretching her legs, completely ignoring me, like I’m invisible or something. Her short brown hair is slicked back into a tight ponytail, and her blue-and-white uniform is spotless, like she hasn’t even broken a sweat.
Typical.
The crowd is louder than usual. I spot my parents in the stands, sitting together, stiff like statues. My mom’s talking to my dad, probably about grades or college applications, and definitely not about me running.
They never talk about me running.
“Runners, to your marks,” the announcer says over the speakers.
I take a deep breath and settle into position, but I can’t help glancing at Harper again. She’s laser-focused, eyes on the track, like nothing else exists.
I wonder if she feels the weight of this race as much as I do. Maybe. Or maybe she’s just thinking about beating me.
Again.
I don’t even remember what she said that day. Not really. Something snide, something that made me feel like dirt. And now, every time I see her, I hear her voice in my head, mocking me.
I shake my head.Focus, Valeria. Focus.
“Set!”
I push up onto my toes, every muscle in my body coiled, ready to spring.
The gun goes off, and I’m flying. The wind rushes past my face, but I can hear Harper’s footsteps behind me, steady, like she’s waiting for the perfect moment to pass me. Not today.
I push harder, legs burning, lungs screaming. The finish line is in sight, but Harper’s shadow creeps closer. I can feel her, just over my shoulder. She’s always just there.
I push again, but she’s closing in.
And then, it’s over. I throw myself across the line, chest heaving. For a second, I can’t tell if I won or not. My vision’s blurry, and all I can hear is the blood rushing in my ears.
Then, Harper walks past me, barely winded. She doesn’t even look at me, just smirks. That stupid smirk that makes my skin crawl.
Ihatethat smirk.
“You’re slipping, Valeria,” she says, voice low, like she knows it’ll get under my skin. “Might wanna work on that.”
I clench my fists. “Bite me.”
“Maybe later,” she shoots back, not missing a beat, and keeps walking like she owns the place.
I stare after her, chest still heaving, heart racing for a whole different reason now.
I hate her.
I hate her more than I’ve ever hated anyone. And she doesn’t even care. To her, I’m just another race, another win to stack on her perfect little life.
“Valeria!” Coach Ortega’s voice cuts through the fog in my head. “You good?”
I nod, though I don’t feel good. My legs feel like jelly, and I can still hear Harper’s stupid comment echoing in my ears. I watch as Coach scribbles something on his clipboard, but he doesn’t say anything else. He never does. It’s fine. I don’t need him to.
I grab my water bottle and sit down on the edge of the track, trying to catch my breath. The heat presses down on me, making everything worse, and all I can think about is how close Harper was.
Too close.
My mom’s probably watching this and thinking,Maybe she should’ve studied more. She’s never said that out loud, but I can see it in her eyes.
I bet Diego never made her feel like this. He’s perfect. I’m just the runner.
I gulp down the water and wipe my mouth with the back of my hand. My legs are still shaking, and Harper’s still hanging out on the edge of my thoughts, like an annoying fly I can’t swat away.
The worst part? I have to race her again next week. And the week after that. It’s never going to stop.
“Nice race,” someone says, and I glance up to see Sofia standing next to me, grinning like this was all just fun for her. It’s never fun for me.
“Yeah, sure,” I mumble, taking another drink. My throat feels like sandpaper.
“You were so close though,” Sofia says, always trying to make things better. “Next time, for sure.”
I nod, but I don’t believe her. Not with Harper still walking around like she owns the world.
“You coming to eat with us?”
I stand up, legs still wobbly, and toss the empty water bottle into my bag. “I’ll have to find mom and see what her plans are. She drove me.”
“Okay. Let me know. We’ll be at Down Home.” Sofia gives me that hopeful smile, but I barely manage a nod before I grab my stuff and head toward the exit.
The heat follows me all the way to the parking lot. My parents are probably waiting by the car, ready to lecture me about something that has nothing to do with today’s race. I glance back at the track, where Harper’s still talking to her team, all smiles and high-fives.
Next time, I tell myself. Next time, I’ll win.
The fluorescent lights in this place make everything look weirdly yellow, like the fries have been sitting out too long. But the smell of grease and burgers is comforting in a way I can’t explain, even though I barely have an appetite after the race.
The guys behind the counter are shouting order numbers, and the place is packed with other teams who just finished their meets, the hum of voices buzzing all around me.
Sofia’s sitting across from me, chewing loudly on her fries, and Marco is shoving a double cheeseburger into his mouth like he’s never seen food before. “You gonna eat, or what?” he mumbles, mouth full.
I poke at my fries. “I’ll eat.”
I don’t actually want to eat. My stomach is still twisted up from earlier, and I can’t stop thinking about Harper and the way she walked off like she owned the track. Like it wasn’t even hard for her.
“You smoked most of them today, Valeria,” Sofia says, dipping her fry into ketchup. “It’s just that last hundred meters, man. Next time, for sure.”
“Next time,” I echo, but I know she’s just trying to make me feel better.
Marco wipes his mouth and leans back in his chair. “You’ll get her next time. You always do.”
I don’t know why, but that hits a nerve. “I didn’t get her today.”
He shrugs, totally unbothered. “Can’t win every time. Even LeBron has off days.”
“Great. I’ll let Coach know I had an ‘off day’ because I’m basically LeBron,” I mutter, reaching for my drink.
Sofia laughs, and Marco throws a fry at me, but I’m not really in the mood. All I can think about is that smirk Harper threw at me after the race. That stupid smirk like she knows she’s in my head.
The door swings open, and the low hum of conversation grows louder. I glance over and, of course, it’s Harper, surrounded by her teammates in their matching blue-and-white jackets. They look like they just stepped off a magazine cover, all smiles and high-fives, as if their whole day went perfectly. Maybe it did.
Harper doesn’t see me at first, thank God. But then one of her friends—a tall girl with blonde hair and a voice that carries—spots us. “Hey, Harper, isn’t that your best friend over there?” she says, way too loudly.
My stomach drops.
Harper glances over, and for a second, our eyes lock. She looks me up and down like she’s sizing me up again, even though we’re not even on the track. Her smirk is back, and I hate it. I hate how she makes me feel like I’m always second place. Always chasing her.
I look away first, pretending to focus on my fries. Sofia follows my gaze and rolls her eyes. “Ugh, of course they’d show up here. What are they, stalking us?”
Marco just shrugs. “It’s the only place open right now with decent food. Everybody comes here.”
“Doesn’t mean I have to like it,” Sofia mutters.
I keep my head down, but I can hear Harper and her friends laughing as they order their food. Her voice stands out to me, even though she’s not saying anything particularly loud or interesting.
Just being there is enough to set me on edge.
Why do I care so much? She’s just another runner. Just another girl. But it’s more than that, and I don’t want to admit it. Not to myself. Definitely not to her.
“Val, you okay?” Sofia asks, her voice quieter now, like she knows I’m spiraling.
I nod, but my fingers are clenched so tight around my cup I can feel the plastic starting to bend. “Yeah. I’m fine.”
Harper’s voice drifts over again, this time louder. “Honestly, I don’t know why people make such a big deal about today’s race. It wasn’t even close.”
My blood boils. She’s not even talking to me, but she might as well be. I stand up, knocking my chair back slightly, and Sofia gives me a look like, don’t do it.
But I can’t help it.
“Harper,” I say, and her head snaps up, her hazel eyes locking onto mine. Her smirk falters for just a second. Just long enough to give me some satisfaction. “You got something you wanna say to me?”
Her friends go quiet, and Harper raises an eyebrow. “If I had something to say, Valeria, you’d know.”
“Well, I’m right here. So say it.”
Her gaze doesn’t waver, and for a second, it’s just us. I can hear my heart pounding in my ears, and it’s taking everything in me not to throw something at her. But she doesn’t rise to it. She just shrugs, like she doesn’t care, and that’s almost worse.
“Relax,” she says, finally breaking eye contact and going back to her burger. “Not everything’s about you.”
That burns. I bite the inside of my cheek, hard, to keep from saying something I’ll regret.
Sofia tugs on my arm, pulling me back into my seat. “Let it go,” she whispers. “She’s not worth it.”
I sit down, but I can still feel Harper’s presence, like a shadow hovering over me. I shove my tray away, appetite completely gone now.
One day, I swear, I’m going to wipe that smirk off her face for good.
The car is too quiet. My mom’s driving, eyes locked on the road, her knuckles tight on the steering wheel like she’s holding on for dear life.
I stare out the window, the dark streets passing by in a blur. The quiet between us is worse than anything she could say.
I know what she’s thinking. It’s always the same.
“You were so close,” she says after what feels like an hour of silence.
Here we go. “Yeah.”
I’m not in the mood for this. Not now. Not after Harper basically wiped the track with me and then acted like she didn’t even care.
“You need to be more focused, Valeria. You’ve been distracted lately.” Her voice is calm, but I can hear the edge in it. The disappointment.
“I am focused.”
“You don’t act like it.”
My jaw clenches, but I stay quiet. There’s no point in arguing. She won’t listen. She’s never listened.
“I know you like running, but you can’t let it take over everything,” she says, her tone softening a little, like she’s trying to be the “understanding mom.” “It’s not a career, Valeria. You need to think long-term. Your grades are good, but you could do better. Colleges—”
“Mom, I know.” The words come out sharper than I intended, but I don’t care. I’m sick of hearing it. Every single day. She’s always talking about my grades, about how running doesn’t matter, about how I should be more like Diego.
Diego. Perfect Diego. The one who’s got it all figured out. Pre-med, straight-A student, practically a saint. I bet she never has these talks with him.
Mom doesn’t say anything, just presses her lips together and keeps driving. The tension sits heavy between us, like a third passenger in the car. I watch the streetlights flicker by, counting them to keep myself calm. One, two, three...
“It’s just one race,” I mutter, more to myself than to her, but she catches it.
“One race can make all the difference. You know that. Especially if you’re serious about the scholarship.”
“I am serious,” I snap.
She sighs, and I can feel her frustration radiating off her like heat. “Then start acting like it.”
I bite the inside of my cheek, hard, to stop myself from saying something I’ll regret. My hands are clenched so tight in my lap that my knuckles are white.
She doesn’t get it. None of them do.
Running is the only thing that’s mine. The only thing I’m good at. It’s the only place where I feel like I’m in control, like I have a shot at being someone who isn’t just Diego’s little sister.
But no matter how hard I run, it’s never enough.
The car pulls into the driveway, and I’m out of the car before she even puts it in park.
“I’m going to bed,” I say, slamming the door behind me and heading straight for the stairs.
“Valeria, don’t—” she starts, but I’m already halfway up. I can hear her sigh behind me, but she doesn’t follow. She never does.
Once I’m in my room, I collapse on my bed and stare at the ceiling. My phone buzzes in my pocket, but I ignore it. It’s probably just Sofia, trying to cheer me up, but I don’t want to talk to anyone right now.
I grab my headphones and put them on, letting the music drown out everything else. The race, Harper’s smirk, my mom’s words—it all fades into the background, replaced by the steady beat pulsing through my ears. For a second, it’s like none of it matters.
But it does. And no matter how hard I try to shake it, Harper’s still there, lingering in the back of my mind, just like she always is.
It’s more than the race.
More than the scholarship.
It’s the way she looks at me, like she knows something I don’t. Like she’s always one step ahead, no matter how fast I run. And that thought—it drives me crazy.
I turn the music up louder, trying to drown it all out.
But it’s not enough.
It’s never enough.
