Bull Session and Broken Bats

Marcus's hands shook as he palmed the bottle of neon-orange vitamin D pills. His dad swore they were "game-changers" for focus, but Marcus mostly felt like a fraud swallowing them before every baseball practice. Especially today—tryouts were tomorrow, and his batting average was still hovering somewhere tragic.

"Supposed to make you see the ball better, huh?" Jamal said, leaning against the dugout fence. Jamal, his supposed best friend since fourth grade, Jamal, who'd been weirdly distant all week. "Maybe they're, like, psychological."

Marcus stuffed the bottle in his backpack. "Yeah, maybe. Or maybe I just suck."

"You don't suck," Jamal said, but his voice had that thin quality, like he was reading from a script he didn't believe in.

That's when it happened—the neighbor's bull, a massive black beast that usually stayed fenced in, lumbering across the outfield like it owned the place. Marcus froze. Jamal froze. The bull stopped, snorted, and locked eyes with Marcus like it was judging his entire life choices.

"Is that... is that actually happening?" Marcus whispered.

"That's a bull," Jamal said, eloquently.

The bull snorted again and wandered off toward right field, leaving them both breathing way too hard.

"Bro," Marcus said, suddenly everything clicking into place, "those vitamins are bull. My dad got them from some sketchy website. And you've been acting weird all week because you think I'm gonna choke tomorrow and you don't wanna be associated with that."

Jamal's face dropped. "What? No, I—"

"You're my friend, Jamal. Either tell me I'm gonna tank it, or tell me I'm not. But don't do whatever this passive-aggressive mid shit is."

Jamal stared at him for a long second, then burst out laughing. "Okay, first, yes, your batting average is tragic. Second, I wasn't trying to be a jerk, I was just trying to not get my hopes up because I know how bad you want this and I don't wanna watch you crash again."

"So you were protecting me by being emotionally constipated?"

"Basically?"

Marcus cracked up. They stood there watching the bull graze in right field like it was the most normal thing in the world.

"Toss me a ball," Marcus said.

Jamal did. Marcus swung, connected—solid, perfect contact.

"See?" Jamal grinned. "Maybe those vitamins aren't total bull."

"Shut up and pitch."