Fox in the Outfield

Maya's baseball cap felt like a crown she hadn't earned yet. Tryouts were tomorrow, and her palms kept sweating through her batting gloves. "You're gonna crush it," said Jalen, leaning against the bleachers. "You've been crushing BP since, like, February."

Maya wiped her right palm on her jersey—again. "BP isn't real game pressure. Coach Miller is actually gonna be watching this time. What if I choke?"

"Then you choke. Whatever. It's not that deep." Jalen checked his phone. "Hey, that fox from my English class is watching you."

Maya followed his gaze. Riley, the sophomore with the vintage leather jacket and suspiciously good hair, was sitting alone on the grass beyond left field, sketching in a notebook. Their eyes met. Maya's stomach did that embarrassing flutter thing.

"Go talk to her," Jalen said. "Unless you're scared."

"I'm not scared." But her palms were definitely sweating again.

Riley didn't look up when Maya approached. "Your swing's tight."

Maya blinked. "You were watching?"

"I watch everything. I notice things." Riley held out their hand—palm up. "Let me see your hand."

"What? Why?"

"Palm reading. I'm not legit, but my grandma taught me. It's fun."

Maya hesitated, then placed her hand in Riley's. Their fingers brushed. Something electric and terrifying.

"You've got athlete hands," Riley said, tracing the lines. "Strong. But you're worried about something. See this line? It's all jagged. That's anxiety."

"Tryouts," Maya admitted. "Tomorrow."

"You'll make it. You've got this"—Riley pointed at a spot near her wrist—"fire line. People who want things bad enough always get them. Eventually."

"Eventually?"

"Life's a long game, Maya." Riley finally looked up, and their eyes were this impossible golden-brown. "But I'd come watch you play. If you wanted."

The baseball field lights clicked on. Maya's palms didn't sweat at all anymore.

"Yeah," she said. "I'd like that."

Later, when she told Jalen what happened, he dramatically smacked his forehead. "A fox read your palm at sunset? That is literally the most main character energy I've ever witnessed. You're welcome, by the way."

"For what?"

"For being the most incompetent wingman in history until five minutes ago when I basically forced you to talk to them."

Maya laughed. Tryouts were tomorrow. She'd still be nervous. But for the first time, she thought maybe being scared didn't mean she wasn't ready. Maybe it just meant she was about to become something new.