It was the day of the sports event—the kind most outsiders would never associate with a place like Crestwood. Maybe it's because a few students from here reach the top 1% in the country, but people always assume this school is all about books and no fun. Truth is, the rest of us are just normal kids. And today, we were here to enjoy
Our group sat in third place overall, just behind a third-year team in first and another group of first-years—our friends—who held second. The competition stretched from my 1500m race to the final 4x100m relay, and today's events would decide it all. Despite being rivals for the day, our group had gathered together on one part of the field, ready to step in when called for our events.
The first event was the 1500m—a race that valued stamina over raw pace. As I looked at the other participants, I couldn't help but smirk at some of the familiar faces. Harrison was the first surprise. I didn't recall him ever signing up for something like this. Sure, he had the stamina to last a soccer match, but this was different. He probably thought this race was an easy way to earn points, especially since it was usually one of the least crowded events.
And then there was Ryan. Seeing him in the lineup genuinely threw me off. Ryan wasn't the type to join a race like this unless there was a good reason—or maybe he thought the same as Harrison: minimal competition, easy points.
"Wow, Ryan," I said, throwing an arm over his shoulder, teasing him. "This feels like a scripted drama. I can't imagine you winning this race when you're half-heartedly jumping in. I guess I'll have to keep the lead from start to finish."
Ryan grinned, playing along. "Tease me all you want, jerk. I'm just here to grab some points if I can. Not like I trained for this or anything."
I laughed. "Sure, sure. I sense hidden talent. Just stay close—I might let you finish beside me."
Ryan chuckled sarcastically. "It should've been Julian or Ethan here, not me. Why do I have to make my legs hurt first thing in the morning?" He sighed dramatically. "I'm so dead."
As much as we joked, I couldn't underestimate either of them. Both Harrison and Ryan had potential, and adrenaline could push anyone to unexpected limits. For me, I knew my plan: start slow, adapt, then gradually increase my pace to hit my maximum in the final stretch. It wasn't just about winning—it was about timing my effort perfectly.
We lined up at the starting line, the six of us: three third-years, another second-year from Jake's group, Harrison, and Ryan. This wasn't just a race; it was a battle where every point mattered. The crowd's focus was intense, fixed on us in a way that differed from soccer or basketball. Here, the attention didn't follow a ball—it followed the runners, exposing every ounce of determination and exhaustion.
The whistle blew. We all started at a moderate pace, careful not to burn out too early. The first lap passed, and I decided to pick up speed. As expected, so did everyone else. By the third lap, Ryan was already struggling to keep up, while Harrison had surged ahead. I was holding back slightly, waiting for my body to adjust before I made my move.
By the fourth lap, I couldn't wait any longer. I hit my maximum pace, pushing past Harrison and overtaking the third-year leader. The adrenaline carried me, but the pain in my legs began to creep in. My breath held steady—stamina wasn't the issue—but the strain on my muscles threatened to slow me down.
The final lap was brutal. Every step felt like fire, but I refused to let up. I crossed the finish line first, a full lap ahead of the others. Collapsing onto the ground, I fought against the throbbing in my legs, watching as Harrison and Ryan battled for third place.
In the end, Harrison narrowly claimed third, while Ryan took fourth. He wasn't happy about missing the podium but had clearly given it everything he had.
As Ryan bent over, gasping for air, Zach's voice cut through the moment. "Daniel, are you even human? Starting that fast—is your brain malfunctioning, or are your lungs?"
I laughed, wincing through the pain. "Guess you'll have to decide."
Zach turned to Ryan, smirking. "And you—what happened? The universe just knew we'd win, so it made sure you couldn't take third. Even the cosmos loves an underdog."
Ryan, catching his breath, grabbed Zach's shoulder. "Keep talking, and I'll make sure you're running the next one." The banter felt light, friendly—a relief after the intense race.
As the group gathered, I asked, "Where are Julian and Logan?"
Owen chimed in, grinning. "They're chasing Sarah and Lena over at the long jump pit. Guess they couldn't resist wagging their tails."
I raised an eyebrow, smirking. "And who's talking? You're the one always chasing girls."
Owen looked away, mock-embarrassed, as the others laughed.
For now, I rested, letting the ache in my legs subside. The first event was over, and I'd secured five points for our team. From the long jump pit, laughter and cheers echoed. My group moved to join the others, but I stayed back, savoring the moment before the day's next challenge.
LONG JUMP EVENT
The long jump event was already underway when I reached the pit. I spotted the group and Nina standing near the boundary rope, their attention focused on the competition. The buzz of the crowd was steady, with occasional cheers as each jump was completed.
"Finally!" Ethan called, waving me over as I joined them.
"Miss anything exciting?" I asked, brushing some dust off my sleeve.
"Nah," Logan replied, though he sounded half-invested. "Sarah's second right now, Lena's in fifth."
"And Nina's been quietly praying for them to mess up," Ryan teased, shooting a grin at Nina.
"Oh, please. I'm the only one here rooting for both my friends to win," Nina said, rolling her eyes. "You're all secretly hoping they'll lose so they don't overtake us, aren't you? Jerks—they're our friends!"
"Relax," Julian chuckled. "You know Zach's going to brag about it all year if they win, right?"
Zach smirked. "Yeah, now I'm rooting for them even more. Even if they end up in second or third, we'll move to second place overall and overtake you guys." He then screamed, "Go, Lena! Get us a medal!"
Ethan clapped me on the back. "Sarah's best so far is 4.2 meters, and Lena's at 3.8. They're doing well."
"Not bad," I said. "How's the rest of the field looking?"
Adrian pointed toward the pit. "Average at best. The only one who's managed more than 4.1 is the third-year girl leading with 4.3, so Sarah's still in a strong position."
The next round began. A girl from the second year stepped onto the track, her focus intense. She sprinted down, her ponytail whipping behind her, and took off with decent form. Sand scattered as she landed.
"3.9 meters," the judge announced.
"Solid, but not enough," Logan muttered.
Lena was up next. She adjusted her stance, breathing deeply before starting her run. Her pace was steady, but she hesitated slightly on the takeoff, and it showed in her jump.
"3.7 meters," the judge called.
"She's close," Nina said, clapping for Lena as she jogged back. "But she needs more power if she wants to climb the ranks."
Owen smirked at Nina. "Yeah, that's how you should contribute to the team—by supporting them. Not like you, standing here judging. What a nuisance!"
Nina punched him with her tiny hands.
Ryan leaned closer to Ethan, watching Lena. "Think she's feeling the pressure?"
"Maybe," Ethan replied. "But Sarah's got it covered."
When Sarah's turn came, a quiet tension settled over our group. She shook her arms loose, her expression calm but focused. Her run was sharp, her steps confident. She launched off the board with power and landed solidly in the pit.
The judge raised the flag. "4.3 meters."
"Atta girl!" Logan cheered, punching the air.
"That's our ace!" Zach added, his grin infectious.
Sarah glanced over at us and gave a small wave, her smile restrained but unmistakably proud.
"She's not done yet," Julian said. "Wait for her last jump."
The third and final round began. Most of the competitors looked worn out, their attempts lacking the energy of the earlier rounds. Lena, despite her best effort, couldn't improve on her previous score. She jogged back, her head held high but her smile faint.
"You're still in the top five!" Nina called out, clapping loudly.
Sarah's final turn came, and this time, even the casual conversations around the pit quieted. She took her position, her gaze fixed on the track ahead.
"Come on, Sarah," Ryan muttered under his breath.
Her run was faster than before, each step deliberate. She hit the board perfectly and soared through the air, her form controlled and strong. When she landed, sand sprayed far beyond her previous mark.
The judge raised the flag, and a grin spread across his face. "4.5 meters!"
Our group erupted into cheers.
Sarah stood, brushing sand off her legs. Lena hugged her on the sidelines, and Sarah beamed back at us.
"She sealed it for the team," Ethan said, grinning.
"And there's still more action ahead," Ryan added.
"Speaking of which," Nina said, looking at me and then Ryan and Ethan, "when are you guys going to finally contribute to the team like this?"
"Relax," Julian said, smirking. "We're just saving our energy for when it really counts."
"Sure you are," she shot back with a laugh.
As the event unfolded, I forgot about the ache in my leg; it had faded long ago. Zach continued praising Sarah for her performance, which boosted our team to second place, now just five points behind the third years. But we couldn't overlook the teams trailing close behind us. With plenty of events still to come, this wasn't over yet.
I walked over to Lena and asked, "You're not feeling down about your jump, right?"
She smiled and shook her head. "Not at all. I'm just happy we climbed in the scoreboard—though Zach overhyping Sarah is another thing."
I glanced ahead, speaking casually without meeting her gaze. "Getting to fifth out of twelve participants is no small feat. You're actually athletic. No doubt hanging out with us has turned you into one." A grin tugged at my lips as I added, "Our influence is unreal."
Lena chuckled. "No wonder you managed to get a girlfriend before these guys, despite their wide network. You know when to joke and when to act. Leah's lucky to have you."
I smiled, a faint warmth creeping in from her words. "Is that jealousy I hear?"
She laughed softly. "Not quite. You're not my type, but it'd be great if you were my brother." Her tone grew thoughtful as she added, "You deserve the best—and I hope Leah's that for you."