"On your marks."

Atlas fidgeted like an addict who was craving a fix in his starter's stance, but his eyes were laser-focused on the finish line one hundred meters away. 

For some reason, I was immensely confident in the buffoon winning the race. Perhaps it was my quick glance at his competitors who looked like they would have a hard time fighting against wind resistance when they walked fast, much less attempted to run full speed. Perhaps I had been wrong about the groups putting their best athletes in this race, or I'd overestimated the value of their best athletes.

"...Go!"

Off the boys went on their straight-line 100-meter dash. I didn't recognize anyone else besides Wyatt's lackey whom I had dubbed Thing 1. Thing 1 quickly fell into the background of the pack, huffing and puffing up a storm capable of blowing himself over.

On the other end, Atlas was well ahead of the pack and started to break away as he pumped his arms hard with a questionably lopsided running stride. By the 60-meter mark, he could've started jogging and still finished ahead with time to spare.

It sure didn't look pretty but I couldn't argue with the results.

"Oh my god!" Nellie screamed, jumping up and down like she had just witnessed the greatest circus show of all time.

"You did so good," She said as Atlas came back over. He hardly even seemed tired from the run. "Did you do track and field before?"

"Nah, but I ran on the beach with my father a lot," He replied with a shrug, returning my nod of approval.

"Good job," Thor offered timidly.

"You still run with that limp after all," A voice came from behind us. We turned to see the girl from breakfast that Atlas had a 'bad history' with. She had a pleasant smile painted on her face that you would expect from a lawyer or something. Her shirt bore the name Serpents, which I figured was her group's name like our shirts had.

"Kind of hard to lose it," Atlas replied in a guarded tone.

"I'm up next. Hopefully I can build on the good Arizona representation," She said with her spurious smile.

"I hope you're not expecting a good luck."

An awkward silence grew with the two staring at each other and Nellie and Thor looking from one to the other with a mix of confusion and interest.

"Well, as fun as this staring contest is, can you guys do it somewhere else - preferably far away before I feel sicker than I already do?" Indigo asked.

"Of course!" Makeup girl replied, breaking her gaze away from Atlas. "It seems like they're ready for us anyway." She added before walking away.

Sure enough, girls were setting up at the 100-meter mark.

Nellie started breathing heavily. "I think I'm about to have a nervous breakdown."

"Do your best, Atlas won his so I don't think you need to burden yourself too much with winning," Thor said with a supportive smile.

I think that was his new world record amount of words without stuttering and it was even semi-audible. Too bad the content of his clear speech reeked of a loser's mentality.

Nellie nodded. "Than-"

"Actually, you do need to aim to win. It's a chance for 20 points right off the bat, don't be delusional," Indigo pointed out.

"What Samantha Mason said," I agreed with a nod in Indigo's direction. Judging by her glare she didn't appreciate the nickname.

"I'll try."

"It'll be okay, once you start running the adrenaline will probably take over," I offered.

"Okay, off I go." She said, walking away robotically.

"What do you think are the chances she wins," I asked Atlas as I scanned her competition.

"Uh, 10 percent," he replied, seeming to snap out of a daze.

"Generous. I was thinking one percent, and that's only because there's a chance her competition starts vomiting and doesn't finish the race."

"If she knocks over everyone like a bowling ball and gets a head-start, I'd say...0.5 percent," Indigo commented.

She did turn out to be right.

Nellie didn't run with a wobble like Atlas but she sure ran like she was stuck in quicksand or a time loop. By the time she passed the line, everyone had finished the race long enough to snort 5 lines of coke.

Bad example.

She came back looking defeated with her shoulders slumped and eyes downcast. Amir was by her side, evidently trying to comfort her but failing.

"Hey, you did your best that's all that matters," Atlas said, giving her a thumbs up.

Thor nodded, joining in on the cringy thumbs-up parade.

In my opinion "her best" looked like a comedic skit so I decided to keep my mouth shut and focus on not following in her footsteps in my race.

"I'm glad to see you guys being supportive. Well, some of you." Amir said, shooting a raised eyebrow in my and Indigo's direction. He should be glad we opted to say nothing."You two ready?"

I shrugged. I wasn't much of a stage fright guy but after watching that performance it was hard not to imagine me coming in last as Nellie did.

In fact, it was getting increasingly hard.

"You good?" Atlas asked and I realized he was looking at me intently.

"Yeah, I'm ready to fall over on my face and trip up everyone accidentally," I replied, not bothering to warm up.

Atlas chuckled while Amir gave me a don't even think about it glare.

"Good luck guys," Nellie called, forcing a smile. "Avenge me or whatever!"

Indigo rolled her eyes and Atlas offered me an encouraging pat on the back. Indigo and I began our trek to the designated area, and with every step, doubt started to weigh in my mind. I wasn't a bearer of great athletic ability, and if not for video proof of my fluke performance, I would hesitate to even say good. My headache took center stage as my pulse quickened.

I looked up and through foggy vision, saw Wyatt standing at the starting block, talking with Mia. Just what I needed. The kid who was probably addicted to steroids and looked like an athletic unit to race against me.

By the time we reached the rest of the competitors, I was deep in the pit of despair. I looked at the track which now seemed unfathomably long; a distance that would take me a good year to run around.

I bowed my head, fixing my eyes on the grass as Amir addressed us, saying something that I couldn't hear over my suddenly blaring heartbeat.

"ʰᵉʸ...ʰᵉʸ...Hey," a voice broke through the hammering, a hand simultaneously hitting me in the ribs lightly.

I looked back up, a movement that took much more effort than I remembered. Indigo looked at me, not a worried or pitied look. Just a look.

"You look like shit," she said simply.

"You should see me after a bender," I joked, wondering if my voice sounded as shaky as it sounded in my head.

She said nothing, just eerily looking at me for a while. Finally, she looked back forward at Amir still talking. I realized we were out of earshot of the other 8 competitors lined up, probably courtesy of Indigo who treated everyone like the plague.

I started to lower my head, my heartbeat jumping to consume me like a meal once again.

"Listen," Indigo said, her voice once again parting the oncoming fog. "Don't tell me that talk about winning was just talk. I don't plan to lose to these idiots, so you better wake up and pull your weight."

"Speak for yourself."

"I'm not the one who looks like they're going to throw up. What type of celeb gets stage fright? Aren't you supposed to be accustomed to attention?"

"It's just the withdrawals messing with my head. Don't get your undergarments in a twist, I'm still going to crush everyone in my race, worry about yourself, princess." I knew I was being defensive but perhaps there was some truth in my words. I'd learnt to tune out stares and expectations from other people, and right now I was doing the exact opposite.

Indigo didn't respond, turning her attention back to Amir.

Amir finished whatever he had been talking about and everyone started clapping. I guess he had given a closing speech before the last event or something.

A staff member directed the girls to line up first.

Indigo turned to me once again. "I'll give you a lead. It'll be up to you from there." And off she went to join the line.

She sure was confident.

"Hey, Captain Underpants," Wyatt said. coming over to where I stood. He held up mock hands of surrender when he saw my glare. "Come on, I'm not here to fight. I'm about to completely embarrass you anyway, though that seems to be a bit of a fetish for you, huh?"

I decided not to respond to his questionable trash talk, instead tuning out Wyatt and all the spectators.

Focus on winning.

I saw Wyatt raise an eyebrow at my silence but his cocky smirk never left his face. "Praying isn't gonna help you. God himself can't save you from this ass whipping."

"On your mark..."

"Mia is a professional athlete, your little goth girl stands no chance by the way," He added.

I looked over at him at that, desperately searching for the sign of a bluff within that cocky sneer but he radiated confidence.

Shit.

"Go!"

The girls all stayed close to each other at the first turn, with no definite person in front of the pack. Then they disappeared around the building and I held my breath, fidgeting nervously. A black shirt bounded out from behind the building first, starting to create some distance with an elegant stride forward.

Indigo.

"What the hell..." Wyatt remarked from next to me as we lined up, preparing to receive the baton.

She continued to rocket down the track to the delight of Nellie who I could hear cheering at literally the top of her lungs. Just as she reached the last turn though, she reached her limit.

It was understandable. An addict's stamina wasn't exactly first class and she must've known that, judging by the distance she made sure to create. What she didn't account for, however, was Mia being an actual track and field athlete.

She hadn't started sprinting to match Indigo, instead keeping a consistent speed that eventually allowed her to break away from the pack but it seemed like she was too far from Indigo for it to matter.

Until she sped up.

The crowd audibly gasped as Mia's pace quickened like a gazelle bounding to escape a predator. She began to uickly gain on Indigo who trotted painfully down the last stretch. Indigo, to her credit, never stopped running, a determined pained look on her face as she struggled down the last 40 meters.

Though Mia ran like a mad-woman now, the distance was enough that Indigo's trot got her to me with mere mili-seconds to spare. Clearly not the performance she had wanted judging by her face. Her face looked as gloomy as always but it was her eyes that told the story.

Those same eyes looked up into mine as she handed me the baton.

She didn't say any words of encouragement or even a little nod, it simply wasn't her style, but as I looked into her eyes it communicated more than a sappy useless "good luck" ever could.

I snatched the baton and turned, tuning out the crowd and running like I never had before.

Sober, anyway.