First Serve

The cable had been fraying for weeks, but of course it chose tryout day to finally give up the ghost. My phone sat at 4% battery—dead, done, no escape route.

"You're still coming, right?" Jordan asked, already halfway out the door.

I sighed, grabbing my racket. "Yeah. But if I embarrass myself, you're dead."

We walked to the rec center where the new padel courts gleamed under the lights. Padel was like tennis crossed with something cooler—more walls, more angles, more vibes. Everyone at school was suddenly obsessed.

Coach Rivera stood by the bench, looking as impassive as a sphinx. She'd played pro in Spain and rumor was she didn't cut anyone slack.

"Alright," she said, clapping her hands. "Show me what you've got."

My hands shook as I stepped onto the court. This was stupid. I was the kid who sat in the back of math class, the one no one really noticed. Why did I think I could do this?

"Hey." Jordan bumped my shoulder. "You got this. Remember what we practiced?"

I nodded, though my stomach was doing full-on gymnastics. My mom had shoved some vitamin supplement at me that morning, claiming it'd help with "stress and focus." Pretty sure it was doing absolutely nothing.

First serve. I tossed the ball up, racket back, and—

WHAM. Right into the net.

Someone snickered. I felt my face burn.

"Reset," Jordan whispered. "You're good."

Second serve. This time I connected. The ball sailed over the net, hit the back wall, and dropped perfectly in the corner. Coach Rivera's eyebrows went up.

By the end of tryouts, I was dripping sweat, my arm felt like jelly, and I'd missed more shots than I'd made. But I'd also nailed three aces and had this weird buzzing feeling in my chest—like maybe, just maybe, I belonged here.

"Not bad," Coach said as we packed up. "Defensive work needs help. But you've got instinct."

I grinned so hard my face hurt.

Jordan high-fived me. "Told you. Now you gotta make the team so we can crush these fools together."

Walking home, I realized my phone was still dead. And somehow, that was fine. The real connection I'd needed wasn't a charging cable anyway—it was finding something that made me feel alive, and a friend who wouldn't let me quit.

The vitamin pills could wait. I'd found my own supplement: showing up, even when you're terrified, and discovering you're stronger than you thought.