Coming Home

The post-race buzz hung in the air as Miles and his teammates made their way back to the Westridge team area. His legs were finally starting to feel the cumulative fatigue of four all-out races, but the adrenaline of their relay victory kept him riding high. Teammates who hadn't seen the race bombarded them with questions and congratulations.

"Yo, someone get this man an oxygen tank," Trey said, gesturing toward Miles with exaggerated concern. "No human should be able to run that many races that fast without medical assistance."

"Says the guy who nearly tripped during the exchange," Andre shot back, slinging his arm around Trey's shoulders.

"That was a tactical stumble," Trey defended, straightening his uniform with mock dignity. "I was creating suspense for the crowd. Setting up the dramatic finish."

Miles couldn't help but laugh. "Next time maybe set up a little less drama? My heart almost exploded."

"The real question," Devin said, still riding the high of their relay victory, "is how you dropped a 20.6 after already racing three times. That's just wrong."

"Must be those shoes," Trey said, pointing at Miles's spikes. "Definitely the shoes. Lemme try them next meet."

Andre snorted. "Yeah, that's definitely it. Nothing to do with the fact that he's running times that would qualify for nationals as a freshman."

"I mean, technically, those times would qualify for nationals," Trey said, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. "So like, are we calling you 'All-American' now, or what?"

Miles shook his head, still not fully processing the magnitude of what he'd accomplished today. "Can we start with 'guy who just wants to sit down for five minutes'?"

"Weak mindset," Trey said, wagging his finger. "Champions never rest. Champions just do more champion stuff, followed by additional champion activities."

"Is that from your inspirational quote calendar?" Andre asked dryly.

"No, I just made it up," Trey admitted. "But it sounds good, right? I should sell those calendars." He framed his hands like he was envisioning a product. "'Trey's Daily Wisdom for Aspiring Legends.' I'd make millions."

"I'd buy one," Miles said, dropping onto the bench with a grateful sigh. "Put it right next to my bed so I can start every day properly inspired."

"See? Market demand!" Trey exclaimed, pointing at Miles. "This guy gets it."

They were still laughing when Coach Dormer approached, a small stack of medals and a plaque in his hands. His usual stern expression had softened into something that, for Coach, passed as enthusiasm.

"Gentlemen," he said, "nice work today." Coming from Coach Dormer, this qualified as effusive praise.

He passed out the medals one by one. "Brooks, solid leadoff." Devin accepted his relay medal with a proud nod. "Wilson, strong second leg." Andre took his with a quiet thank you. "Washington, way to hold position." Trey made a show of bowing deeply as he received his medal.

When Coach turned to Miles, he paused, seeming to recalculate his usual economy of praise. "Carter." He handed over not one but three medals—gold for the 60m, 200m, and the relay. "This is just the beginning. Remember that."

Miles accepted the medals, the weight of them surprising as he placed them around his neck. Three races, three golds. It felt surreal.

Coach held up the relay plaque, which featured a small golden runner on a wooden base with their names and time engraved on a plate. "This," he said, "is going in my classroom. First of many, I expect."

"You sure we can't take turns with it, Coach?" Trey asked. "Like a weekly custody arrangement? I have the perfect spot on my wall."

"You can visit it during study hall," Coach replied without missing a beat. "Now, bus leaves in twenty minutes for those heading back to school. Carter, you're walking home, correct?"

Miles nodded. The fieldhouse was closer to his neighborhood than Westridge High, and he'd gotten permission beforehand to walk home rather than ride the bus back and then double back.

"Don't forget to ice and hydrate," Coach said, already moving on to address other team members.

"The legend begins his solitary journey home, carrying the weight of glory on his shoulders," Trey narrated in a documentary voice as Miles gathered his belongings.

"Pretty sure it's just the weight of his gym bag," Andre said.

"Symbolism, Andre. Metaphor. This is the hero's journey stuff they teach in English class," Trey explained with exaggerated patience.

"Speaking of journey, I should get going," Miles said, shouldering his bag. "See you guys Monday."

"The freshman phenom departs, leaving mere mortals to ponder what they just witnessed," Trey continued his narration.

"Shut up, Trey," Andre and Miles said in unison, then looked at each other and laughed.

Miles bumped fists with his teammates before heading out, the medals clinking softly against each other as he walked. The late afternoon air felt cool against his face after the heated fieldhouse, a gentle reminder that despite the day's achievements, the world outside continued unchanged.

The walk home took just under fifteen minutes, giving Miles time to process the events of the day. So much had happened since that morning when he'd reluctantly boarded the team bus. It felt like days had passed rather than hours.

He reached his house—a modest two-story in a quiet neighborhood—and let himself in with his key. The living room was empty, no sign of his mom who was likely working another Saturday shift at the hospital. Her schedule as an ER nurse meant she often missed his weekend activities, though she tried her best to be there when she could.

Miles dropped his bag by the door and headed upstairs, his legs protesting each step after the day's exertion. As he passed Zoe's room, he caught sight of his sister sitting cross-legged on her bed, phone propped against her pillow as she absently played what looked like a Roblox dress-up game.

He leaned against her doorframe, letting the medals dangle conspicuously from his neck. "Guess who won three races?"

Zoe looked up, her initial annoyance at the interruption quickly shifting to surprise as she spotted the medals. "No way," she said, pausing her game. "All of them?"

"Every single one," Miles confirmed, unable to keep the pride from his voice. "60, 200, and the relay."

"Hold up." She held out her hand for him to stop. "Freshman year, first meet ever, and you swept? Is that even allowed?"

Miles shrugged, trying to play it cool despite the smile tugging at his lips. "Apparently."

Zoe narrowed her eyes. "Did you break any records?"

"Maybe a few." He tried to sound casual. "New York state number one times for freshmen in both events. US number one for the 200. No big deal."

"'No big deal,' he says," Zoe mimicked, rolling her eyes. She stood up from her bed and approached, examining the medals with genuine interest. "Mom's going to freak when she finds out you're a track star now."

"I'm not a track star," Miles protested, though the weight of the medals around his neck suggested otherwise.

"Yeah, and I'm not beating your high score in Mario Kart every weekend," Zoe replied, smirking. "Have you posted about it yet? Because if you don't, I will, and I'll use that photo of you sleeping with your mouth open from the family picnic as the background."

"You wouldn't."

"Try me, little brother."

Miles shook his head, unable to maintain the scowl he was attempting. "I haven't checked my phone since before the meet. It's probably dead anyway."

"Well, charge it and check your notifications. I guarantee you're blowing up right now." She tilted her head, studying him. "How does it feel? Being fast, I mean."

The question caught Miles off guard with its sincerity. "Good," he said after a moment. "Different than I expected. Like...like I found something I didn't know I was missing."

Zoe's expression softened. "That's actually pretty deep for someone whose entire personality until now has been 'I play video games and avoid sports.'"

"Shut up," Miles said without heat. "I contain multitudes."

"Sure you do," Zoe laughed. "Now go shower. You smell like you've been running races all day or something."

Miles rolled his eyes but couldn't argue with the assessment. He continued down the hall to his room, closing the door behind him before unceremoniously dropping his bag to the floor and collapsing onto his bed. Every muscle in his body seemed to sigh with relief.

After allowing himself five minutes of motionless recovery, he finally mustered the energy to get up and head to the bathroom. The hot shower was exactly what his tired muscles needed, the steam helping to clear his mind as he replayed moments from the day.

The 60m final stood out most clearly—that perfect synthesis of power and purpose as he'd channeled his feelings about his father into pure speed. Then the 200m, where he'd shocked even himself with how decisively he'd pulled away from the field. And finally, the relay, hunting down the North Heights anchor to secure the team victory.

Three different races, three different experiences, all culminating in what had to be the most unexpected day of his life.

As Miles turned off the shower and dried himself, something flickered at the edge of his vision. He wrapped the towel around his waist and wiped the steam from the mirror, only to see glowing text appearing in his reflection.

[Velocity System: Status update available. Display now?]

"Yes," Miles said, still getting used to the System's unpredictable appearances.

The text in the mirror expanded, forming a detailed status panel.

VELOCITY SYSTEM STATUS UPDATE

User: Miles Carter

Age: 14

Talent Assessment: Grade-A+ (Elite Potential Activating)

Velocity Points: 147

MISSIONS COMPLETED:

→ 60m Preliminary Heat: Win your heat (10 points)

→ 200m Race: Complete under 22 seconds (15 points)

→ 60m Final: Complete under 7.2 seconds (15 points)

→ BONUS: Complete under 6.8 seconds (20 points)

→ 4x200m Relay: Complete leg under 21.5 seconds (15 points)

→ BONUS: Secure team victory (20 points)

→ SPECIAL: Achieve NY #1 ranking (25 points)

→ SPECIAL: Achieve US #1 Freshman ranking (25 points)

ATTRIBUTES:

→ Acceleration: A- → A (Significant improvement)

→ Top Speed: A → A+ (Elite level confirmed)

→ Endurance: C+ → B- (Race-day performance boost)

→ Form/Technique: D+ → C (Competition improvement)

→ Race Strategy: F → D (Developing tactical awareness)

→ Mental Fortitude: C → B+ (Pressure performance verified)

→ Recovery Rate: B+ (Maintained through multiple races)

NEW MISSIONS AVAILABLE:

1. Train consistently for one week (15 points)

2. Master block start technique (20 points)

3. Improve arm mechanics during acceleration phase (15 points)

4. Win at County Championships (30 points)

SYSTEM FUNCTIONS UNLOCKED:

- Attribute Training

- Basic Form Analysis

- Progression Tracking

VELOCITY SYSTEM UPDATE COMPLETE

Miles stared at the display, taking in the dramatic improvements across nearly every category. His point total had jumped from 10 to 147 in a single day. The missions he'd completed without even consciously trying had rewarded him generously, especially the special achievements for his rankings.

What really caught his attention were the newly unlocked system functions. Attribute Training? Form Analysis? These sounded like features from a video game, but somehow applied to his real-life running.

He reached out tentatively toward the display. "How do I use these new functions?"

[Velocity System: Attribute Training allows focused improvement in specific areas through specialized drills and exercises. Form Analysis provides real-time feedback on running mechanics. Progression Tracking monitors performance metrics over time. Would you like a demonstration?]

"Not right now," Miles decided, aware that he was still standing in a steamy bathroom with just a towel around his waist. "Later, though."

[Velocity System: Understood. Functions will be available upon request. Congratulations on your exceptional performance today.]

The display faded, leaving Miles looking at just his reflection again. He hadn't realized how much his expression had changed—there was a confidence in his eyes that hadn't been there this morning.

Back in his room, Miles pulled on a pair of basketball shorts and a t-shirt before falling back onto his bed. He should probably check his phone, charge it, maybe even post something about the meet like Zoe suggested. But his body had other ideas, the fatigue of the day finally catching up with him as his eyelids grew heavy.

Just five minutes, he thought, letting his eyes close. Then I'll deal with everything else.

As sleep began to claim him, Miles's mind drifted to the new possibilities the System had unlocked. Attribute Training sounded like exactly what he needed to improve his starts. And Form Analysis could help him fix the technical issues Coach Dormer had pointed out. With these tools, plus his natural ability, who knew what he might accomplish?

His thoughts blurred into dreams—dreams of running, but not running away as he'd done for years, avoiding his father's legacy. This time he was running toward something, chasing a future that was suddenly, thrillingly possible.

In his dream, he was racing down a blue track that seemed to extend endlessly before him. No competitors, no pressure, just the pure joy of movement as his legs carried him forward with impossible speed. The wind rushed past his face, the world blurring at the edges as he accelerated beyond what should have been possible.

And for the first time in years, he felt completely, utterly free.