Chasing Air

Marcus stood on the padel court, sweat plastering his hair to his forehead while everyone watched. Again. His phone buzzed in his pocket — seventh time this practice.

"You good, bro?" Jace called from across the court, bouncing the yellow ball like he had all the time in the world. "You've been staring at that wall like it owes you money."

"Yeah. Just vibing." Marcus lied, knowing exactly who was texting. His baseball coach. Who definitely didn't know about his secret padel practices with the cool crowd.

The ball sailed toward him. Marcus's racquet connected — completely wrong angle. The ball ricocheted backward, narrowly missing Jace's head.

"Whoa there," Maya laughed, flipping her ponytail. "Chill, Tiger Woods. It's just a game."

Just a game. That's what they all said. But at this school, if you weren't on the padel team, you were basically invisible. Marcus had spent three months curating this entire persona — the casual padel player who'd picked it up over summer "just for fun." In reality, he'd watched forty-seven YouTube tutorials and practiced against his garage wall until his neighbor called the cops because they thought someone was being murdered.

His real passion? Baseball. The sport his dad had played, the one that made sense to him, the one where he could actually hit something without feeling like an impostor. But baseball was "so middle school" now. Padel was where the clout lived.

"Alright, round two!" Jace announced, serving aggressively.

Marcus's phone lit up again. *Tryouts moved to 4: Tomorrow. Be there or be square.*

Panic seized his chest. Baseball tryouts. Same time as the padel exhibition match against Oakwood.

The ball smashed into the court beside him. "Yo, Marcus! You gonna play or what?"

Something in him snapped.

"Actually," Marcus said, his voice shaking, "I gotta go."

"What?" Maya's perfectly manicured eyebrows shot up. "We've got the match in-"

"I know." Marcus shouldered his bag, heart hammering against his ribs. "I have... somewhere else to be."

"Like what?"

He didn't answer. Just walked. Then jogged. Then flat-out sprinted toward the park where he could smell the chlorine from the swimming pool that sat next to the baseball field.

When he burst onto the baseball diamond, Coach Miller looked up, surprised. "Marcus? You made it."

"Yeah." Marcus bent over, hands on his knees, gasping. "I'm here."

A huge grin spread across Coach's face. "Grab a glove. Let's see what you got."

That night, Marcus's phone was blowing up. The group chat was going feral about his disappearance. Jace had posted something on his story. Maya had texted him five times asking if he was okay.

He typed out a response, deleted it, typed again. Finally sent: *Sorry about today. I quit the team.*

Three dots bounced. Then a response from Maya: *Wait. Since when?*

*Since now.* Marcus hesitated, then added, *I play baseball actually.*

The dots bounced again. Then: *No way. That's actually sick.*

Then Jace: *Bro you should've led with that. I lowkey wanted to try baseball anyway.*

Marcus stared at his screen, hardly believing it. Then smiled, pulling on his worn-out baseball cap.

Some bulls just needed to learn to stop charging at the wrong fences.