Fish Out of Water

Marcus's dad lived for **baseball**. Every weekend since Marcus was six, they'd be at the park, dad shouting tips from the bleachers while Marcus swung until his arms burned. But somewhere around freshman year, the burn started feeling less like passion and more like indigestion.

"You've got natural talent, son," his dad would say, gripping his shoulder. But Marcus didn't feel talented anymore. He felt trapped.

Then came the day his phone buzzed with a weird invite from Chloe—the girl who sat behind him in bio, the one with the rainbow hair and zero interest in sports. "Wanna play **padel** after school?"

Marcus had no clue what padel even was, but he said yes because Chloe's smile did something weird to his stomach that had nothing to do with indigestion.

The court was hidden behind the community center, a glass-walled cube that smelled like rubber and teen spirit. Chloe handed him a racquet. "It's like tennis ate squash and had a cute baby."

She destroyed him. Like, actually humiliated him. But Marcus found himself laughing—genuinely laughing—for the first time in months. His arms burned again, but different. Good different.

"My brother's the star pitcher for varsity," Chloe said afterward, sitting on the bench and sharing her Gatorade. "Everything's **baseball** this, baseball that with my family. Sometimes I just wanna... not be that."

Marcus stared at her. That night, he stared at his room instead.

Finley—his **goldfish**, named after Derek Jeter because his dad was aggressively on-brand—drifted in his bowl, orange and indifferent. Marcus had won Fin at a carnival when he was twelve, back when being the Baseball Son still felt like a choice he'd made.

"You ever feel like you're drowning in like, two inches of water?" Marcus whispered. Finley blew a bubble.

His phone lit up. Chloe: Same time tomorrow?

Marcus typed: Absolutely.

His dad knocked on his door. "Big game Saturday. Coach says you're starting at short."

Marcus looked at his glove in the corner. Then at his padel racquet leaning against the wall. Then at Finley, who'd finally found a way to survive in water that wasn't even his natural habitat.

"Actually," Marcus said, "can we talk?"

Later that night, he texted Chloe: I think I'm gonna come out. As someone who likes padel more than baseball.

She replied: Bold of you to assume I haven't been playing padel in secret for three years lol

n

Marcus grinned. His arms burned. His chest felt light. Finley swam in circles, and Marcus finally understood: sometimes you have to leave the bowl to find out who you're supposed to be.