Courtside Catfish

The backward snapback was practically glued to my head—a security blanket against the ruthless fluorescent lights of the community center. I adjusted the brim, trying to look casual while internally screaming.

"You coming or what?" Maya called from the padel court, laughing with her varsity friends. She'd invited me. Me. The girl who'd somehow managed to go through three years of high school without attending a single social function.

"Yeah! Just... tying my shoe." I fumbled with laces that were already double-knotted.

The cat incident wasn't helping my confidence. Yesterday, Mrs. Henderson's calico had chosen that exact moment—when Maya was walking by—to projectile vomit a hairball directly onto my fresh Jordans. Maya had witnessed the whole tragedy. She'd laughed, but like, actually laughed. Not mean-girl laughed. Still, I'd spent twenty minutes internally spiraling about whether she remembered.

Now here I was, about to humiliate myself in front of half the cross-country team because apparently everyone here had been playing padel since kindergarten.

The pool area doors swung open, releasing that unmistakable chlorine-and-teen-angst atmosphere into the corridor. Swimming practice must just be ending. Drip. Drip. Everywhere.

"Hey!" Maya jogged over, racket in hand. "You ready to get destroyed?"

"I'll have you know I've been watching YouTube tutorials," I shot back, immediately regretting everything. Why did I say that? That was the lamest thing in human history.

But Maya's grin widened. "Show me what you got, YouTube star."

Three games later, I'd somehow managed to score exactly zero points, trip over my own feet twice, and send a ball flying into the swimming section (thankfully empty). My hat had fallen off during game two, exposing my disastrous hair day to approximately twelve people.

But Maya was still smiling. Actually smiling. Not pity-smiling.

"Same time next week?" she asked as we gathered our stuff.

My brain short-circuited. "Wait, you want me to come back? After I literally served a ball into the pool?"

"Duh." She bumped my shoulder. "You're terrible, but you're hilarious. Plus, you didn't give up. That's rare."

The cat vomit on my shoes suddenly felt like less of a dealbreaker.

"I'll be here," I said, pulling my hat back on. Brim forward this time.