Number 1. It was the only number that mattered to Lila that day. She’d practiced for weeks—her fingers sore from gripping the paintbrush, her eyes tired from mixing just the right shade of blue for the sky in her art contest entry. The judges called names one by one: third place, second… and then, “First place goes to Lila Martinez!” She stood up, her legs wobbly, and walked to the stage. But as she held the cold metal trophy, she glanced over at her best friend Mia, who was clapping so hard her hands must have hurt, even though Mia’s own painting (a sunflower field that smelled like real sunflowers, Lila thought) hadn’t made the top three.

Lila’s smile faded a little. She remembered how Mia had snuck over every night after dinner, bringing her favorite lemon cookies and helping her fix the smudges on her sky. How Mia had told her, “Your blue is the bluest blue I’ve ever seen—way better than the ocean.”

When Lila got off the stage, she ran to Mia and hugged her tight. “This trophy’s half yours,” she said. Mia laughed, wiping a tear from her eye. “No way, it’s all yours—you earned it.” But Lila knew better. The number 1 on her certificate was nice, but the number 1 friend she had? That was the real prize.

Later that night, they sat on Lila’s porch, sharing the trophy like it was a plate of cookies. The moon hung low, casting a silver glow over the neighborhood. Lila traced the “1” engraved on the trophy and smiled. For the first time, she didn’t care about being number one in a contest. She cared about being number one to someone who cared about her, too.

And that, she thought, was the best kind of number 1 there was.

作者声明:本文包含人工智能生成内容。