Friday morning assemblies at Westridge were usually an exercise in collective boredom—announcements no one cared about, reminders about school policies everyone ignored, and the occasional half-hearted pep talk about school spirit. Miles had perfected the art of being physically present while mentally elsewhere during these weekly gatherings.
But today was different. Today, he couldn't retreat into his usual daydream state, not when Ms. Pearson had specifically mentioned he'd be recognized.
"Nervous?" Shelly whispered as they filed into the auditorium with the rest of their homeroom.
"Not nervous," Miles replied. "Just..."
"Uncomfortable with public attention?" he offered.
"Something like that."
They found seats in the middle section, Dami dropping into the chair on Miles's other side. "Heard you're getting a shoutout today," he said, bumping Miles's shoulder. "Should I record it for posterity?"
"Please don't," Miles said.
"Too late. Zoe already texted the whole friend group to make sure someone gets it on video."
Miles groaned. His sister's dedication to documenting his discomfort was truly impressive.
The assembly began with the usual formalities—pledge of allegiance, principal's welcome, and mundane announcements about upcoming events. Miles sat through it all, his leg bouncing slightly as he waited for his moment of unwanted spotlight.
Finally, Principal Wilson, a tall man with a perpetually serious expression, stepped back to the microphone. "Before we conclude, we'd like to recognize some outstanding student achievements from this past weekend."
Miles sank a little lower in his seat.
"Our track and field team competed at Central High School, where freshman Miles Carter set three school records and achieved top state rankings in both the 60-meter and 200-meter dashes."
A murmur rippled through the auditorium as heads turned, searching for him. Miles kept his eyes fixed straight ahead.
"Miles, would you stand so we can acknowledge your achievement?"
With a deep breath, Miles rose to his feet, feeling hundreds of eyes suddenly focus on him. The applause that followed was surprisingly enthusiastic, with a few whoops and whistles from the track team scattered throughout the audience.
"Miles will be representing Westridge at the County Championships next week," Principal Wilson continued. "Along with our other qualifying athletes. Let's show them our support."
Another round of applause, and then mercifully, Miles was allowed to sit down as the principal moved on to recognize the debate team's recent victory.
"See? Not so bad," Shelly whispered.
"Could've been worse," Miles admitted as the assembly concluded and students began filing out. "At least he didn't make me come up to the stage."
As they emerged into the hallway, Miles found himself on the receiving end of more congratulatory nods and comments than he could count. The assembly recognition had apparently cemented his status shift from anonymous freshman to somebody worth knowing.
"Mr. Popular," Dami teased as a sophomore girl Miles had never spoken to smiled at him while passing.
"Shut up," Miles replied without heat.
"Embrace it, man," Dami said. "This is your superhero origin story. Normal kid gets mysterious speed powers, becomes school celebrity, eventually saves the world or whatever."
"Pretty sure I'm not saving the world by running in circles on a track."
"Not with that attitude," Shelly chimed in, grinning.
Miles was saved from further commentary by the bell signaling first period. "See you at lunch," he said, breaking away toward his Algebra class.
As he navigated the crowded hallway, his phone buzzed in his pocket. Checking it quickly before entering the classroom, he saw a message from Kayla.
county meet countdown: T-minus 6 days... you ready to race again?
Miles smiled slightly, typing back: As ready as I can be. You?
Her response came almost immediately: preparing my smoothie order. oh and also training lol
He slipped his phone away as he entered the classroom, his mood lifted by the brief exchange. Over the past few days, their texts had evolved from occasional messages about the upcoming meet to more regular conversations about everything from classes to music to the bizarre politics of high school track. There was an easiness to their digital rapport that surprised Miles, given his usual caution around new people.
Maybe it was because Kayla came from a different school—there was no baggage, no preconceptions of who Miles was or wasn't supposed to be. Or maybe it was the shared language of track that gave them common ground. Whatever the reason, Miles found himself looking forward to their post-meet smoothie plans with unexpected anticipation.
After school, Miles headed straight to Coach Dormer's classroom instead of the locker room. The team had a lighter practice scheduled for Friday, but Coach had asked to see Miles beforehand to discuss strategy for counties.
He found Coach at his desk, studying heat sheets for the upcoming meet. "Carter," he acknowledged as Miles entered. "Close the door."
Miles did as instructed, taking a seat in the front row desk Coach gestured toward.
"Counties is different from dual meets," Coach began without preamble. "Better competition, more pressure, and officials who actually know what they're doing. You need to be prepared."
Miles nodded, appreciating Coach's directness.
"Your seed times put you in favorable positions," Coach continued, turning his computer screen so Miles could see. "But times on paper don't win races. Execution does."
The screen showed the top entries for the 300 meters. Miles's name was at the top of the list with his 34.86, followed by runners from other schools with times ranging from 35.2 to 36.5.
"On paper, you should win this," Coach said. "But Ryan Higgs from Central has been improving, and Jason Whitman from North Heights has championship experience. They won't concede anything."
"I understand," Miles said.
"The 300 strategy is different from the 200 you ran at Central," Coach explained. "Indoor 300 is grueling—a full lap and a half on our track. Go out too hard, you'll die in the final straightaway. Too conservative, and you'll never catch up."
Coach pulled up a different screen, showing a track diagram. "You'll be in the outer lanes based on your seed. That means you'll catch the field visually, which can trick you into thinking you're further behind than you are. Don't panic and burn too much too soon."
[Velocity System: Race strategy module activated. Analyzing optimal pace distribution for 300m indoor configuration.]
Miles blinked as text appeared in his vision, the System apparently responding to the strategic discussion.
"Your first 100 should feel controlled—fast but not straining," Coach continued. "Second 100 is where the race is won or lost. Maintain form, stay smooth. Final 100, that's all heart."
"What about the 60?" Miles asked.
"Simpler race. Get out hard, stay low through your drive phase, then it's just about holding form to the finish. Your biggest challenge there will be the starter. County officials enforce the commands strictly. Any flinch in set position is a false start."
Miles nodded, absorbing the information. The System was simultaneously providing its own analysis, highlighting optimal positioning and race distribution graphics in his field of vision.
[Velocity System: 300m race distribution recommendation - First 100m: 92% effort, maintain proper curve running form. Second 100m: 95% effort, focus on rhythm maintenance. Final 100m: Maximum output, emphasize arm drive.]
"Any questions?" Coach asked.
"What about the relay? Same team as last meet?"
Coach nodded. "You'll anchor again. We've adjusted the lineup slightly—Brooks, Washington, Wilson, then you. We're seeded second behind North Heights."
Miles thought about the North Heights anchor he'd run down at Central. "Same anchor for them?"
"Yes. And he'll be looking for redemption, so be ready."
Coach closed the heat sheets and leaned back in his chair. "One more thing, Carter. After your performances at Central, you won't be surprising anyone. They'll be watching you, studying you. Some might try to get in your head."
"Get in my head?"
"Mind games. Trash talk. Intimidation. Standard stuff at championship meets. Ignore it. Focus on your race, not theirs."
Miles hadn't considered this aspect of higher-level competition. The thought of other runners specifically targeting him mentally was strange—another indicator of how much had changed in just a few weeks.
"I'll be ready, Coach."
Coach Dormer studied him for a moment, then nodded. "I believe you will. Now get changed. Easy day today, but we're still working."
That evening, Miles sat cross-legged on his bed, laptop open to the county championship records page. After Coach's strategy session, curiosity had driven him to look up the marks he'd be chasing.
The county record for the 60 meters stood at 6.68, set three years ago. His personal best was 6.71—tantalizingly close. The 300-meter record was 34.22, compared to his 34.86 seed. Both were within striking distance, a realization that sent a strange mixture of excitement and pressure coursing through him.
[Velocity System: Record analysis complete. Probability of 60m record: 76% with optimal execution. Probability of 300m record: 62% with current capabilities.]
Miles closed his eyes, letting the System's calculations fade from view. Beyond the numbers and probabilities, there was a deeper question forming in his mind: What did he want from this? Was breaking records the goal? Winning medals? Making his father regret his absence?
He opened his eyes, gaze falling on the medals from Central that still hung on his wall. Two weeks ago, they had seemed like miraculous achievements. Now they felt like just the beginning of something—though of what, exactly, he wasn't entirely sure.
His phone buzzed with a notification. Expecting another text from Kayla, he was surprised to see his mother's name instead.
Just confirmed I got next Saturday off to come watch you at counties. Zoe says it starts at 10am? Should I bring anything?
Miles stared at the message, a warmth spreading through his chest. His mom had been working double shifts for months to make up for the income lost when their grandmother passed. Getting a Saturday off was no small thing.
You don't need to bring anything, he texted back. But thanks, Mom. It means a lot.
Wouldn't miss it for the world, sweetie. So proud of you.
He set his phone down, unexpectedly moved. His mother had always supported his interests, but there was something different about this—a sense that what he was doing mattered not just to him, but to his family.
[Velocity System: New mission available: "Family Pride" - Win at least one event at County Championships. Reward: Enhanced psychological resilience module.]
Miles closed his laptop, decision made. Whatever his reasons for running had been initially—proving something to his absent father, following the System's missions, or just avoiding trouble with Mr. Dormer—they had evolved. Now he was running for himself, for his teammates, for his mother who rearranged her precious work schedule to watch him compete.
He reached for his phone and opened the Velocity System interface that had appeared a few days ago, accessing the race strategy module for the first time. If he was going to make his mom's day off worthwhile, he needed to be fully prepared.
The module expanded into a detailed tactical analysis for both the 60 and 300, complete with visualizations of optimal positioning, pacing strategies, and even psychological preparation techniques. Miles lost himself in the information, absorbing every detail with newfound purpose.
By the time he finally put his phone down, it was past midnight. Tomorrow would be Saturday—his last real training day before the taper began for counties. He'd need rest, but as he settled into bed, Miles felt more prepared than nervous, more focused than pressured.
The tide of change that had begun with his reluctant joining of the track team was still rising, carrying him toward something he couldn't fully see yet. But for perhaps the first time, Miles was genuinely eager to discover where it might take him.
[Velocity System: User psychological readiness for competition: 89% optimal. Projected performance trajectory: Continuing positive.]