Cable Guy's Kid

Being the cable guy's kid meant moving every six months. New schools, new fake friends, same old memorized speech about how great WiFi installation actually was. But this time—this subdivision with its manicured lawns and in-ground pools—felt different.

My dad was upstairs rewiring someone's router when I spotted it through the sliding glass doors: a pool party. Kids my age, maybe fifteen or sixteen, scattered across a backyard that screamed money I'd never had. Baseball caps everywhere—backward, forward, sideways—like some uniform I hadn't been issued.

I grabbed my dad's spare Yankees hat from the passenger seat. Desperate times.

"Hey!" A girl waved from the pool's edge. "You playing?"

My brain short-circuited. Playing? I glanced at the makeshift baseball diamond in the adjacent yard. "Uh, sure?"

"Cool. We need a left fielder. Justin's grounding him again."

Whatever that meant.

I stepped onto the grass, heart hammering like I'd just chugged three energy drinks. The hat felt ridiculous—way too big, sliding down over my eyes. But nobody laughed. They just handed me a glove and pointed.

First pitch came my way. A soft fly ball, practically gift-wrapped. I tracked it, reached up, and—missed completely. The hat slipped. The ball hit me square in the forehead.

Silence. Then laughter. Not mean laughter, but the kind where everyone's suddenly in on something.

"Solid block, cable guy!" someone yelled.

The girl from the pool—Maya—swam over. Her wet hair plastered her forehead, droplets racing down her nose like she'd been crying, but she was grinning. "You want me to teach you how to actually catch?"

"My dad's fixing WiFi upstairs," I blurted. "I'm not supposed to—"

"Wireless can wait." She climbed out of the pool, grabbed a ball from the grass, and tossed it. Simple, easy, like she'd been doing it her whole life. "Your form's all wrong. You're thinking too hard."

We threw for twenty minutes while the game continued around us. My dad honked when he finished the job, but I pretended not to hear. For the first time in six towns, I didn't want to leave.

"Same time tomorrow?" Maya asked, already backing toward the pool.

"My dad's got another install," I said, adjusting the hat that suddenly didn't feel so big anymore. "But I'll be here."