The air at the district stadium was electric. Cassian stood in among his teammates, surveying the track where competition would soon arise. The rows of seats stretched out on both sides, packed tight with spectators whose voices blended into a hum of excitement. The crowd that had amassed was one of the largest he had ever seen for a sprint event, and the reality began to sink in.
His parents came to watch him and cheer. Mark and Sarah were in the first few rows, waving when they caught a glimpse of him. Cassian nodded curtly at them; his usual shy self among the crowds was quite preserved. He wasn't a man to beam above an audience—not with a cheerful side strictly limited to private time with his parents. Still, it was always nice to have them around, and today was no exception.
Cassian looked around at the other teams as the announcer's voice boomed from the speakers, introducing the participants. He saw a few familiar faces from previous local competitions, but most were complete strangers. Every sprinter looked everyone over with sizing eyes, the tension palpable.
The announcer named the favorites, and Cassian couldn't help but hone in on the Riverside High team. Their star sprinter was a boy by the name of Jace Novak, a district-over sensation for such lightning-fast times and perfect technique. Tall, muscularly built, and marching with a confidence almost bordering on arrogance. He had set a personal best of 12.02 seconds in his last competition, which was more than enough to make him the top favorite going into the 100-meter dash.
He saw Jace from across the track. Given how much pressure was on his shoulders, he was incredibly laid back. His coach hovered over by, a condescending smile twisting up his face as if crowing beforehand about them receiving victory.
He felt some sort of challenge rise inside of him.
The others were not as famous as Jace, but they were very muscular as well. A few gave each other stern looks, and Cassian knew well that all of them had so much to prove, but it wasn't going to scare him off. He had prepared himself for weeks, and no one would break him out of his zone now.
Finally came the 100-meter sprint. Cassian was the first to start crossing to the running track from his team. The crowd fell silent as runners assumed their places at the line of the starting block. Cassian bent his knees, brushes brushing coolly against the surface of the track. His crimson hair caught the light, stark against the dark material. His heart beat steadily in his chest and mind—all completely calm, fixed single-mindedly on what was before.
His parents sat in the stands with eyes fixed on him, where Mark elbowed Sarah playfully with a grin. "He's up," Mark says softly with a tone of boasting.
The whistle blew, and the runners positioned themselves into their own slots as they waited for the race to begin. The air seemed to hold its breath during those last few moments before the racing would start. All that could be heard was the steady respiration of the competitors, and each tick of the clock became more charged as it passed.
Then the pistol fired.
Cassian catapulted off the starting line. His body was on autopilot, his legs churning over the drive phase, the world rushing past as every one of his thoughts and movements homed in on a single point: the finish.
As Cassian stepped into the acceleration phase, he felt his muscles working in perfect harmony, each stride a smooth and powerful motion. His cadence had quickened, and with every step he felt pulling ahead of the pack.
When he entered the Maximum Velocity Phase, Cassian already led. His face: the wind whistled against his face. Roaring was but a dull hum. He is flying, feet merely grazing against the ground as he hurtles for the finish line.
Looking to his sides, he saw the others dropping back. Even Jace Novak, the district favorite, was now dropping back. Cassian's lead was now unmatched.
The finish line just appeared in a flash, and Cassian went for everything he could give his body in the last five feet of it. He crossed the finish alone.
The crowd erupted, and, for one brief moment, the world stood still.
Cassian slowed to a jog, his breathing heavy as he glanced back at the other runners who were still crossing the finish line. The gap was sizeable. He had run so much ahead of everyone else that the competition was left too far behind.
He saw the astonished faces of the other teams where he was walking out of the track. Even Jace's coach, who had already sported full confidence earlier, was left speechless. The roar of applause from the crowd grew, and Cassian caught sight of his parents in the stands. Mark was grinning from ear to ear, while Sarah sat with a proud look of disbelief.
Cassian's clock flashed on the scoreboard above the stadium: 11.59 seconds—a personal best.
He let himself a small, wicked grin as the reality of his win began to set in. He had done it. Not only won, but crushed all of his expectations. It was barely even day one at the district competition, but already Cassian had marked his stamp on the event.