Barefoot on the Padel Court

I'm standing on the padel court at my dad's country club, clutching my iPhone like it's a lifeline. Three new notifications. None from Tyler. My thumb keeps hovering over his chat—typing, deleting, typing again. The message sits there, unsent: "hey, are u coming to jess's party tonight??"

"Maya, your form!" Coach Reyes yells from the sidelines. I grip the padel racket tighter, my palm sweating against the handle. This is humiliating. I'm fourteen and I suck at a sport that literally nobody my age cares about.

Across the net, Chloe—the girl with the perfect Instagram feed and actual friends—smirks. She's wearing that stupid crop top from TikTok that everyone has. I hate that I want one too.

"Your phone again?" She calls out. "Maybe if you put it down, you'd actually hit the ball."

I feel it in my chest—that bear of a feeling that's been sitting there since sixth grade, heavy and growling. The fear that everyone sees right through me. That I'm trying too hard. That I'm not cool enough, not pretty enough, not enough.

The ball smacks into my racket and flies into the net. Coach Reyes throws his hands up. I want to disappear.

After practice, I collapse onto the bench outside the clubhouse. My phone buzzes—Tyler finally replied. "nah, working late. maybe another time."

I stare at the screen until it goes dark, then feel a presence beside me. Chloe sits down, not looking at me. Her knees are scraped, her hair frizzy at the temples. Real.

"My parents are making me do lessons all summer," she says, like I'm supposed to care. "They think I'll get a scholarship or something. It's so dumb."

I shrug. "Yeah. Mine too."

She turns to me, and her eyes—up close, without the filters—are tired. "Can I see your phone?"

I hand it over, confused. She opens my contacts and adds herself. Then she opens my palm, running a finger along the lines. "You're gonna be okay, you know."

"What?"

"My grandma taught me palm reading. It's nonsense, but still." She smiles—genuine, crooked. "Your life line goes on forever. And you've got this little star right here." She points to a tiny intersection near my thumb. "That means something good's coming."

The bear in my chest goes quiet.

"Wanna hit some balls?" she asks. "For real this time. No parents watching."

I pick up my racket. My phone stays on the bench, face down.

For the first time all summer, I don't check it once.