Bear's Backhand

Jordan's first mistake was believing the Instagram hype about padel tryouts being "chill vibes only."

"You're Jordan, right?" The guy standing on court three was built like a vending machine and hit every ball with enough force to dent concrete. "I'm Bear. Team captain."

Bear. Of course his nickname was Bear. Jordan should've pivoted to chess club when they had the chance.

"Cool name," Jordan managed, gripping their rental racquet like it might save them from social suicide. "My parents wanted to call me Vitamin, but they settled."

Bear stared.

"That was a joke," Jordan said quickly. "I'm not great at—" WHAM. A ball ricocheted off the back wall, missing Jordan's face by three inches.

"Focus up, Vitamin," Bear grinned. "Show me what you got."

The next twenty minutes were a masterclass in athletic destruction. Jordan ran into walls. Jordan tripped over their own feet. Jordan's padel skills could best be described as "aggressently mediocre." Meanwhile, Bear moved like gravity owed him money, hitting impossible shots with casual brutality.

By the end, Jordan was dripping sweat, dignity hanging by a thread.

"Not terrible," Bear said, which honestly hurt worse than if he'd just said they sucked. "You've got potential. Your backhand's garbage, but potential."

Jordan slumped against the fence, fishing through their bag for emergency supplies. The gummy vitamins they'd promised their mom they'd take every day stared back accusingly from a side pocket.

"Yeah, well," Jordan muttered, tearing the package open with their teeth. "Maybe I'll just stick to doing literally anything else."

Bear leaned against his racquet, actually smiling now. "Nah. You've got heart, Vitamin. Tuesday at four. Don't be late."

Jordan watched him walk away, already dreading the inevitable parental lecture about commitment and not being a quitter. Their phone buzzed — MOM: "How were tryouts?? Did you make friends??"

Jordan stared at the vitamin gummies. Popped two into their mouth.

Texted back: "Made the team. Bear's intense but cool."

Some lies were worth it. Besides, Jordan thought, adjusting their grip on the racquet. Tuesday was four days away. That was plenty of time to get terrible at backhands. Probably.