As Sophie made her way to the end of the track, the coach, Ms. Meijer, greeted her with “Good time today, kid.”

The rest of the girls, one by one, headed back to the locker rooms.

“Thanks.” Sophie jogged in place. “I’m gonna go again.”

Ms. Meijer looked to her watch and then up at the sky, like she needed to see the sun to double-check the time. “Only once more, ’kay? That parent-student meeting starts soon.”

Sophie nodded and took off.

Her torso steamed hot as she pushed herself even faster.

Just keep running.

Her mom couldn’t come to the meeting, of course. Work. Their neighbor on the fourth floor watched Bella on the days Sophie had track. So Bella was fine. Sophie could stay for the assembly if she wanted. Should she? All her friends would be there.

But were they really her friends? Could Sophie say to Amina or Hayley, “I’m mad I’m not number one? I’m angry? Let’s talk about it?” Like friends do on TV, having those touchy-feely moments that end in a group hug?

No. No way. They talked about sports, boys, and videos they’d watched online. They shared selfies. Her “friends” hadn’t even been over to her place. Her mom refused it. She told Sophie that “those kind of kids” would judge her. And Sophie didn’t really want them there, anyway.

In her peripheral vision, she caught a group of seventh graders sitting in the bleachers, giggling in their puffy coats. She almost never saw kids sitting out there. The kids who mattered, the ones she didn’t want seeing her with her makeup sweating off, had other sports practice at the same time.

Were the seventh graders laughing at her?

She should have just let Brody kiss her last week.

It had been her second time at his house. They studied with the door open, just like his dad always told them to. But when his dad went downstairs, Brody smushed up his lips and moved toward her. And Sophie wondered if he’d ever kissed someone before, because she hadn’t, and she shivered at the way his lips were a little wet, like she’d be kissing spit, and she didn’t want her first kiss to be like that, and so she’d jumped up, grabbed her books, and yelled, “Gotta be getting home!” like a total weirdo. They hadn’t even texted about it after, in a joking way or anything.

Yes, she should’ve just kissed him back. Then maybe he wouldn’t be asking the new number one to the dance.

Sophie slowed down at the track’s end and felt her legs pulse as she came to a stop.

“Even better time.” Ms. Meijer held up her stopwatch.

Sophie nodded, panting, and headed toward the shower. “Hey, Sophie, new shoes next week, okay?” she yelled out behind her. This was an every-other-week refrain from Ms. Meijer. “Seriously, you’re going to hurt yourself. You’ve got no support down there. Come on.”

“Next week, I swear!” Sophie hollered back without looking.