Last night still lingered in my mind, amplified by my parents' call—a conversation that had drained whatever strength I had left.
I knew I needed space. Not just from my parents, whose expectations seemed to hover over me like a storm cloud, but also from Jia, Devon, and even my grandparents.
It wasn't their fault entirely, but I couldn't face another meal at that table, another round of banter that made me feel like an outsider in my own family.
I quietly dressed, slipping into my favorite hoodie and jeans. The house was still as I tiptoed down the hall, grabbing my backpack and bike helmet before heading out the door. No goodbyes, no explanations—just the rhythmic sound of my bike tires against the pavement as I pedaled away.
The campus was calm when I arrived, the usual bustle of students and teachers yet to start. I made my way directly to Coach Ling's office, the sound of my footsteps echoing in the hall.
Coach Ling looked up from his papers as I knocked softly on the door, his expression shifting from surprise to understanding.
"Taryn," he greeted. "You're here early."
"I want to practice," I said, my voice steady. "Can you supervise?"
Coach Ling studied me for a moment before nodding. "Of course. Let me grab my clipboard."
As we walked to the track, I explained my plan to excuse two morning classes, exchanging them for extra assignments to keep me occupied at home.
He raised an eyebrow but didn't argue, recognizing my need for focus and escape.
The morning practice was intense, just as I'd hoped. Each lap was a challenge, each sprint an outlet for the frustration weighing me down, I was drenched in sweat .
Coach Ling handed me a water bottle and patted my shoulder. "Good work, Taryn. You're starting strong. Keep this pace."
"Thanks, Coach," I said, taking a grateful sip. Before I left his office, he handed me a folder filled with paperwork from my excused classes.
"You've got your plate full now," he said with a small smile. "Don't forget to rest, too."
I tucked the folder of paperwork Coach Ling had handed me into my bag and made my way to the library.
Each faint scent of old books, and the rows upon rows of neatly shelved volumes—it was the perfect place to retreat.
I found an empty table tucked into a corner and spread out my notes for Ms. Lu's History class.
The research project on constellations wasn't due for another two weeks, but I needed something to focus on.
My chosen constellation was Lyra, and I was diving deep into its cultural and historical significance.
Lyra, the harp of Orpheus, had always fascinated me. Its mythological connection to music and poetry seemed almost ironic, given how little harmony I felt in my own life right now.
I poured over books and articles, tracing its origins in Greek mythology and its significance in different cultures. The constellation had also been a navigation tool for ancient travelers and a source of inspiration for countless stories.
As I jotted down notes, the occasional sound of footsteps or a book being placed on a shelf barely registered. I was lost in the world of Lyra—its stars, its myths, its history. The project became more than just an assignment; it was a way to escape, to lose myself in something that felt productive.
By lunchtime, I was still in the library, skipping the cafeteria entirely. Baihe, my closest friend, found me there.
She leaned against the table, her arms crossed and a concerned expression on her face.
"Taryn, you've been here all morning. Did you even eat?" she asked, her voice soft but firm.
"I'm fine, Baihe," I replied without looking up from my notes. "I just have a lot to do."
She sighed and pulled out a chair, sitting across from me.
"You're pushing yourself too hard. I saw what you did at the track field and you didn't look great during practice, and now you're skipping meals? You're going to faint if you keep this up."
I finally looked at her, my pen hovering above the paper. Baihe's concern was genuine, and I knew she wasn't the type to back down. "I just need to stay busy," I admitted, my voice quieter than I intended.
"Staying busy is one thing, but this?" She gestured to the pile of books and papers in front of me. "This is something else. What's going on, Taryn?"
For a moment, I considered telling her everything—the tension at home, the weight of expectations, the way running and studying felt like the only things keeping me from breaking. But the words caught in my throat. I couldn't bring myself to say them out loud.
"It's nothing," I said instead. "I'm fine. Really."
Baihe didn't look convinced, but she didn't push. "At least eat something," she said, pulling an apple out of her bag and placing it on the table. "Promise me you'll take care of yourself."
"I promise," I said, though I wasn't sure if I meant it.
After Baihe left, I took a bite of the apple, more out of obligation than hunger, and returned to my research. The afternoon passed in a blur of books and notes, interrupted only by the occasional rustle of pages or the distant chatter of students passing by.
By the time I returned home, the house was quiet again. I retreated to my room, exhausted but unable to sleep.
I turned my attention to the folder full of paperwork that Coach Ling had given me.
Work was predictable, controllable, unlike the emotions that had threatened to overwhelm me earlier in the day.
The assignments from my excused classes were extensive—there were fives pages of equations from math, essay prompts from literature, and maps for geography. It would take me hours to complete it all.
I knew tomorrow would bring more challenges, but for now, I allowed myself a moment of rest, hoping it would be enough to face whatever came next.