"What are you dorks talking about?" A female voice called, interrupting Kevin and Michael's completely undorky conversation about the science behind running under 10 seconds in a 100 meter.

The speaker was Scarlett, Michael's younger sister who was only one year younger than the pair.

"Just talking about how Kev is gonna kick Braylon's butt in the 100 meters," Michael replied enthusiastically. 

For someone who didn't care about doing good, he was pretty pumped up about placing 4th in the shotput.

Kevin suspected that it was a big ego boost for him to consistently place against people who vigorously trained while he did minimally.

"Wouldn't that be a sight to see," Scarlett said with a faint smile. 

She resembled Michael a lot, meaning she was well off in the attractive category.

"Your race is soon right?" Kevin asked her, noting that the girls' 200 meters in her age category were fast approaching.

Unlike Michael, she took track and field almost as seriously as Kevin did.

Scarlett nodded with a pleased look. "Uh-huh. I think I might finally beat Shalissa this time." 

Shalissa was her division's reigning female sprint champion, consistently dominating the 100 and 200-meter races.

"Good! It's long overdue," Michael said. "If both my sister and best friend become known as the fastest people in school my rise to popularity is inevitable," he added, clasping his hands together like an evil villain with an elaborate plan.

Kevin chuckled, knowing full well that if Michael wanted to be in the popular crowd he easily could with his ability to fit in with seemingly anyone.

"Good luck with that, I'm not claiming you as my brother until you place in the top three in shotput," Scarlett responded jokingly.

"Hey, I came fourth against people who live this," Michael whined.

"Yeah, so imagine if you took it seriously."

Michael waved his hand dismissively. "Then who would be Kev's number one fan?"

Scarlett rolled her eyes. Just then, her race was announced. A flash of fear streaked across her face but as quickly as it came, it was gone. Michael, caught up in his antics failed to notice but it didn't escape Kevin.

"I better be off then," Scarlett said with forced enthusiasm.

"Yep, remember what I always say..." Michael started. Scarlett and Kevin joined in on his frequently said motto, "Become one with the wind and you shall win."

"I got it," Scarlett said with an eye roll.

"Good luck, Scar," Kevin said with a firm nod.

She nodded back and off she went to join the other girls.

"She's going to lose," Kevin stated as the two watched her departure.

"What the hell, man?"

"She's way too tense and nervous, she needs to run a personal best to beat Shalissa and she's not going to when she's all stiff like that."

Michael's annoyed expression softened. "You're right, I noticed her hands trembling. Don't runners unwind when the race starts, like the adrenaline taking over and whatever?"

"Sometimes...but with the type of runner Scarlett is, she needs a good start and the nerves will only increase as the start nears."

Scarlett wasn't naturally fast, her speed came from hard work and an almost perfect technique. She had been recommended to switch to long-distance running many times but refused to, stating that sprinting was her passion. Michael often joked that she was trying to follow in Kevin's footsteps, but Kevin didn't believe that was the case.

Within moments, the runners were all lined up at their positions and the introductions started. There wasn't a big screen where their faces could be shown zoomed in from the camera but even from where they stood, Kevin could tell she looked uncomfortable. 

As expected, Shalissa received the loudest applause when her name was called and she waved to the crowd. Reputation was heavily based on previous performances; consequently, her popularity was through the roof.

On the on-your-mark call, Scarlett could be seen fidgeting in the starting blocks. To the average eye, this was normal as she wasn't the only one, but people who knew her knew that she was trained to stay deathly still in preparation to take off.

"Bang."

The starter's pistol went off and the runners shot into action. 

Shalissa burst from the starter's block like the bullet that had been shot moments before. Her technique wasn't the prettiest as she slightly slouched forward but her speed was breathtaking as she ran across the bend. 

Scarlett wasn't far behind but as they reached the straight-away it was clear there was no way in hell she was catching her. With fifty meters to go, Shalissa started coasting to the end with at least a two-second lead on Scarlett, who was being challenged by her peer.

Kevin didn't know the other girl's name but she was glued to Shalissa as the two fought for the second spot, both pumping their arms in two uniquely beautiful running forms. Right at the end though, the other girl made a late push and secured second place, leaving Scarlett to settle for third.

Considering there were eight participants, a third spot was nothing to sneeze at and would've earned her a bronze medal, but Kevin could tell from the quick dip of her head she was anything but pleased.

"I should probably go over to her," Michael said, his usual calm expression replaced by worry.

Michael paused, glancing at Kevin meaningfully.

Kevin shook his head. "Go on ahead, I'll start warming up over here." He considered the two the closest he had to family outside of his mother, but it wasn't his job to console her.

Michael nodded, a look of disappointment appearing and vanishing in a split second.

"I'll make sure I'm back out by the time your race starts," he promised before dashing off toward the backroom where Scarlett had gone.

Kevin sighed. He didn't have time for distractions, one of the moments he had trained for was soon upon him.

It was time to lock in.

"Yo," a voice came from behind him as he started some stretches.

Darius plopped down next to him and started some stretches of his own. Darius was certainly not what Kevin would consider a friend, the two had probably said two words maximum to each other in the last year, after all. 

Despite this, Kevin didn't necessarily dislike him as he did Braylon. Darius typically kept to himself and as far as Kevin had been able to tell, didn't have an ego issue despite rivaling Braylon in speed.

"Yo," Kevin responded, expecting the conversation to end there.

"Wasn't that your friend that just ran? The one that came third?" Darius surprised him by asking.

"Er, I guess you could say so. She's Michael's sister." 

"Ah. She has really good form."

"Mhm. I guess that isn't always enough to beat natural talent, though." Kevin replied, continuing his stretch ritual.

"Most true words I've heard so far this year," Darius said, pausing his own stretching to look off into the distance. "The world simply isn't fair. No matter how hard you train and how fast you get, there will always be someone who is just as good while not even putting in the same effort." Kevin followed his gaze and realized he was looking at Braylon who was joking around with his posse as he stretched, completely carefree compared to the two just a few feet away from him. "Then even when you do beat that person, the world turns a blind eye to it if that person is loved enough, calling it luck and the like," Darius finished.

Kevin studied the boy. He wasn't much taller than Kevin but was still a reasonable height. His muscular physique had improved over the years, proof of the boy's dedication. His piercing blue eyes always made him seem to be deep in thought and now, bathed in sunlight, they were practically glowing.

Kevin said nothing, not because he didn't agree, but simply because there was nothing to be said. The world was unfair, but no amount of sugarcoating or pep talks would change it.

Just then, the announcer called for the division to report to the starting line. 

Darius stood up after one last long stretch. "Well, it seems it's showtime. Good luck out there."

Kevin nodded, following suit. "You too." 

Kevin didn't believe in wishing his opponents good luck because it felt unproductive, but this time, he truly meant it.

Partly anyway.

A well-kept secret thanks to Braylon is the fact that Darius was a better 200-meter runner. Since it was considered a sprint, many automatically assumed that the fastest 100-meter sprinter would dominate the 200-meter as well but this simply wasn't the case. The 100 meter is dictated by explosive power whereas the 200 meter not only requires the sprinter to sustain a high speed over a longer distance while being able to finish strong, running a good bend is also critical. 

Darius was an excellent bend runner and usually won in their 200-meter battles but Braylon played it off like he wasn't trying since it was practice and of course, his posse and the general public ate up his excuses. An observant eye could easily see his annoyance and how he went out of his way to win the 100 meters after such a loss.

As Kevin lined up he saw Michael and Scarlett walk back onto the field. Scarlett still seemed sullen but offered a wave along with Michael when they saw him looking.

The announcer started to introduce each runner in the order of the lane they had drawn. Kevin had gotten lane 2 while Braylon received lane 5 and Darius lane 6.

The crowd barely murmured as the first guy got introduced, unsure who he was. This was one of Kevin's least favorite moments of an unofficial race, it was essentially a show of who was popular and who was not. It could kill a runner's confidence if he let a difference in crowd reaction get to him.

"And in lane two...Kevin Matthews!" The obnoxious voice yelled despite his voice already being elevated by the microphone. 

Kevin received an extremely modest round of applause from the crowd, but on the field, Michael made sure his cheering could be heard. 

The announcer continued down the lineup with minimal pause until he reached Braylon.

"And the favorite to win this race, you all know him, you all love him, titled the fastest student at Eastwood High, Braylon Thatcher!"

The applause from the crowd was deafening. It felt like the entire stadium came alive to clap which was a given thanks to the show he had put on in the heat already.

Braylon made a peace sign and raised it in the air before connecting it with his other hand and placing the square symbol in front of his face like he was taking a picture of the finish line, causing the roar from the crowd to heighten even more. It was what he called his signature pose, one that would become even more iconic than Usain Bolt's according to him.

Darius was introduced next and he also got a healthy response from the crowd. It paled in comparison to Braylon's but it was still much more supportive than any of the rest had received. Darius was known as the second fastest in the school and though he didn't entertain it like Braylon did, it still significantly increased his popularity in school. In certain cliches where Braylon was disliked, he could even be considered more popular - the underdog fit to dethrone the king, so to speak.

As the commentator finished the introductions, the starter called for the racers to get into the 'on your mark' position.

Some swayed from side to side and others stayed as still as the blades of grass on the fields. Unlike this morning, the wind had significantly eased down which meant the runners couldn't depend on its help, but also that their times would be unquestionably legal.

Kevin stayed deathly still in his crouched position, taking in his surroundings. The crowd was now quiet as ordered, their intense gazes speaking volumes instead. Around the lineup of runners, Kevin noticed many looking unsure and uptight as if they didn't believe they had a chance in hell of winning a race with Braylon and Darius present.

His dad used to call this the fear of prey. Before the race even started they had accepted defeat. Kevin couldn't help but shake his head in disgust at them. The track was where heart could win a race, where winning was earned and not given.

Compared to the outside world, it was the fairest moment one could ever get, in Kevin's opinion.

"Set!"

Everyone raised up off their back legs, collectively becoming still and preparing to explode outward as they transitioned into their set positions.

The silence from the crowd was just as deafening as their cheers had been seconds ago. The hopes of eight individuals wafted into the air.

"Go!"

The eight runners simultaneously shot off, but two clearly exploded out of the blocks a step ahead.

Darius and Braylon.

As they reached the corner they were clearly ahead and breaking off from the rest of the pack almost side by side, with Braylon a half-step ahead.

Darius quickly fixed this on the curve, however, running as close as possible to his inside line as he could without stepping on it, while Braylon stayed in the middle of his lane, essentially running a less efficient curve which hurt him as they transitioned back to the straightaway.

Darius now led.

As they sped down the last 100 meters, it was painfully evident that Braylon didn't have a last kick in him but Darius did, as his lead started to look definite and his win certain.

Until.

From the crowd's perspective, what could only be described as a missile interrupted the clash of titans. One second it was their two favored representatives duking it out and suddenly, an unlikely perpetrator entered the picture.

Kevin. 

Kevin hadn't exploded out of the block like Darius and Braylon, but it was in a 200 meter where his commonly average starts were just a minor hindrance when he hit his top speed and sustained it.

Now, as he tore down the last 60 meters it felt like he was floating down the track. He wasn't admiring the feel of the wind as he did in every practice, despite it feeling good, he wasn't taking in the sounds and smells that were coming in all at once.

No.

He was laser-focused on the fast-approaching finish line and perfecting his form with only one thought in his mind.

Win.

From his outside lane, he couldn't properly gauge his position in relation to Darius and Braylon in the middle lanes so he didn't bother to even attempt to look at them and risk his form faltering. Instead, he would get over the finish line as fast as he could and hope it was enough.

No, he would make it be enough.

As he crossed the line and sucked in all the air he possibly could under the onslaught of lactic acid buildup he became marginally aware that the crowd had gone silent. 

Eerily silent.

He turned and returned the nod of respect Darius offered him before looking past him at the big screen that sat on the field just outside the finish line where the slower finishers were still running through.

It took him a while to see it thanks to his slightly blurred vision and people running past it but there it was clear as day. 'First place, Kevin Matthews."

A numb feeling came over Kevin as he digested those words printed across the screen. 

His feet moved almost of their own will back down the track. As he walked he looked up into the stands. Some people were cheering in appreciation at the performance, but for the most part, there were blank and shocked faces among the student body. Kevin eyed his doubters and naysayers, who as Darius had said; even in the face of his victory, would struggle to accept it and make excuses for why such an anomaly had occurred.

He eyed them without saying a word, letting his expression speak louder than his voice ever could. Kevin mean-mugged the crowd as he walked down the length of the track, his face twisted into a fierce snarl and his eyes intensely locking onto each and everyone who wasn't clapping.

Somewhere in his stride, Kevin had embraced the idea of being the underdog. Or perhaps, something more than an underdog. Eastwood High had made Braylon their hero, putting him on an unbeatable and loved pedestal, so he subconsciously decided he would be the opposite.

He wouldn't simply be an underdog anymore.

He would be the villain.