Motherless

44

Talia – Sophomore Year (10th Grade)

If someone had told eighth-grade me that I'd actually like high school, I would've laughed. Or cried. Or maybe both.

But here I was tenth grade, new school, new people, new everything and somehow, it didn't feel terrifying anymore.

It felt like freedom.

The bell rang, and the hallways filled with the usual chaos of sneakers squeaking, lockers slamming, and way too many people talking at once. A year ago, that noise would've made me shrink. Now? I weaved through it like I belonged here because I did.

Being an athlete helped. Turns out, I'm pretty decent at track. A coach saw me running laps in PE last year and basically drafted me into the team. I didn't think I'd like it, but it gave me something I didn't know I needed a reason to move forward, literally.

And for once, people actually knew me for something good.

"Winslow!"

I turned just in time to catch a flying granola bar smacking into my hand. Jordan, one of my teammates, grinned from across the hall. "You're gonna need that before practice. Coach says hill sprints today."

I groaned. "You just ruined my entire day."

"Love you too!" he called back before vanishing into the crowd.

Oh, right. Quick note for you guys yeah, my last name's Winslow now. I changed it before ninth grade. My idea, actually. I wanted to match Mom. She cried when I told her happy tears, the kind that make you awkwardly hug someone but not let go right away.

Anyway, back to the chaos.

I was closing my locker when a familiar voice popped up behind me.

"Look who actually showed up on time."

I turned, and there he was Hector.

Same mischievous grin. Same bright eyes. Same annoying habit of acting like he invented confidence. He wasn't quiet in middle school not even close. He's always been the kind of person people naturally like.

Now he's a full-on basketball star, the type who gets cheered for in the halls but still remembers to hold the door open for teachers.

I smirked. "You're just mad I beat you here."

"Please," he said, slinging his backpack over his shoulder. "I stopped by the gym first. You just didn't see me."

"Uh-huh, sure. Keep telling yourself that."

He laughed, brushing his curls out of his face. "You always gotta start with an attitude?"

"Only for you," I said before realizing how that sounded.

His grin widened. "So I'm special, huh?"

I rolled my eyes, pretending to focus on my locker. "You're *something*, that's for sure."

He chuckled, walking beside me as the bell for next period rang. "You ready for practice later?"

"As ready as I'll ever be for torture."

"You'll be fine. You're faster than half the team combined."

"Flattery doesn't work on me, Hector."

"Who said it was flattery? I'm just stating facts."

I gave him a look, but he only smiled that soft, confident kind of smile that made my stomach do this weird flip I'd never admit out loud.

We started walking down the hall together like we always did, shoulder to shoulder, bumping into each other just enough to be annoying but not enough to move apart.