First Pitch at the End of the World

The baseball cap sat three sizes too big on my head, the brim covering my eyes like a veil. I'd grabbed it from the lost-and-found at school that morning, desperate for anything to hide behind. Today was the day I'd finally talk to him—Carlos, the pitcher with the arm like a cannon and the smile that made my stomach do backflips.

The party was already in full swing when I arrived, kids spilling out onto the lawn where someone had set up a makeshift baseball game. I stood at the edge, clutching a red solo cup like it was a lifeline, feeling like a total zombie. Three hours of sleep after binging that new zombie apocalypse show will do that to you. My brain was foggy, my moves were definitely off, and I was pretty sure I was walking into things sideways.

"You gonna play or just stand there looking dead?"

I looked up. Carlos. Standing right there. Wearing that baseball jersey, number 7, holding a papaya in one hand like it was the most normal thing in the world.

"I..." Words failed me. Totally.

He laughed, and it was better than I'd imagined. "Chill. I'm Carlos. You're the new girl, right? The one who transferred from Wilson?"

"Maya," I managed, though it came out more like a whisper.

"Cool. Want some?" He held out the papaya. "My abuela grows them. Seriously good once you get past the weird texture."

I stared at it. Never in my sixteen years had I considered eating papaya at a high school party. But Carlos was watching me, waiting, and suddenly my sleep-deprived brain decided: yes. Yes to the papaya. Yes to the boy with the cannon arm and the perfect smile. Yes to being the kind of person who says yes.

"Sure," I said, and reached for it.

Our fingers brushed. Electric. Absolutely electric.

"So," he said, leaning against the porch railing. "You play baseball?"

"Never," I admitted. "But I've always wanted to learn."

"Well," Carlos said, that smile crinkling his eyes. "First pitch's tomorrow at dawn. I could teach you. If you're not too busy being a zombie, that is."

I adjusted my too-big hat and smiled back, feeling something spark to life inside me. Something that wasn't fear, or exhaustion, or the constant worry about fitting in. Something new.

"I'm never too busy for that," I said.

And for the first time since I'd moved to this town, I believed it.