I fell into my bed exhausted by the time I got home from practice that night. “Quinny, please shower,” my mom linked from the kitchen. She was hurriedly trying to put something together for dinner, forgetting how late it would be when we got back.
“In a minute,” I groaned. Everything hurt: my legs, my neck, my back, and my brain. The park where we would regularly practice after school for cross country was muddy, so I was covered in filth. It was our hardest workout yet, and I couldn’t focus the entire time.
“This chicken will only take fifteen minutes, so hurry if you want warm dinner,” my mom replied.
I rolled over onto my back and looked at my phone. I couldn’t decide if today would have been better or worse with Michael at school. When I finally started listening to the rumors, I
