Curveballs and Dead Batteries

The stadium lights hummed above us as Marcus and I sat in the bleachers, mitts resting on our laps like we were still the kids who'd spent every summer practicing fly balls in his backyard. But somewhere between freshman year and now, baseball had become just background noise to whatever was happening on our phones.

"Dude, check this," Marcus said, shoving his iphone in my face. A TikTok of some kid doing backflips played for the third time.

"Nice," I mumbled, already feeling like a zombie from three straight nights of finishing AP History papers. Senior year was draining the life out of me, and Marcus posting about his "lit" weekend while I studied wasn't helping.

The crack of a bat echoed through the stadium. Our team's best player, this sophomore everyone called a prodigy, had just sent one soaring into the outfield. The crowd roared. Marcus didn't look up from his screen.

Something tightened in my chest. We used to live for these games. Now I couldn't remember the last time we'd actually talked about anything real.

"Marcus," I said, suddenly serious. "Put the phone away for one second."

He blinked, then actually laughed. "What is this, an intervention?"

"No, it's—" I gestured at the field, where the sunset was painting everything gold and perfect. "It's this. Remember when we actually watched the games? When we were gonna play together in high school?"

Marcus's face shifted. The cocky grin slipped. He set his phone down. "Yeah. Before you got all serious about grades and I got serious about... I don't even know, man. Being popular?"

The admission hung between us like a foul ball frozen in midair.

"I miss my friend," I said quietly. "Not your tiktoks. Not your follower count. You."

Marcus looked at his iphone, then at me, then at the field where our team was rallying. Something like recognition flickered across his face.

"Yeah," he said, surprising me. "Me too."

The crowd erupted as someone hit a home run. Marcus and I watched it sail into the sky, both of us actually seeing it this time, and for the first time in months, I didn't feel like I was sleepwalking through my own life.