Goldfish in the Dugout

Marcus gripped the plastic bag like his life depended on it. Inside, a single orange fantail goldfish swam in tiny circles, completely oblivious to the fact that its new owner was about to make a complete fool of himself at baseball tryouts.

"You're seriously bringing that?" TK whispered, elbowing him. Marcus's best friend had been roasting him since he'd won the fish at the carnival last night—the same carnival where Sarah Jenkins had actually noticed him for the first time, which was probably why he'd gotten competitive about tossing ping-pong balls into fishbowls until he'd won one.

"Shut up," Marcus muttered, jamming the bag into his backpack. Only the fish's translucent orange tail poked out.

Coach blew his whistle. "Freshman tryouts, let's go! Marcus Chen, you're up first."

His stomach dropped. Everyone knew his brother Damien had been the team's star pitcher before graduating last year. The whole "bull in a china shop" reputation—that was Damien. Marcus was more like "the china shop."

He stepped up to the plate, bat trembling. The varsity pitcher, some junior who looked like he shaved twice daily, gave him this look that said *freshman* and *not worth my time*.

First pitch: strike. Marcus blinked too late.

Second pitch: ball. Too high.

Third pitch came fast, and somehow—*somehow*—Marcus connected. The bat vibrated through his hands, a sweet sting he'd never felt before. The ball sailed toward right field, past the outfielder's glove, bouncing toward the fence.

"RUN!" someone yelled.

Marcus booked it, legs pumping, lungs burning. He slid into second base, jeans skidding against dirt, heartbeat hammering in his ears. Safe.

He looked up to find Sarah Jenkins watching from the bleachers, actually smiling. At *him*.

"Nice hit, freshman," the varsity pitcher called, almost sounding like he meant it.

Marcus grinned so hard his face hurt. In his backpack, the goldfish swam on, oblivious to the fact that somehow, against all odds, they'd both survived their first day.

"Told you," TK said later, as they walked home. "You just had to stop overthinking it. Bull through the fear, my friend."

Marcus nodded, already planning how he was going to tell Sarah about his fish. Maybe she'd want to come over and see it. Maybe she'd even help him name it.

"You think 'Slider' is good name?" he asked.

TK rolled his eyes. "For a *goldfish*? Seriously?"

"What? It's baseball-related!"

"You're impossible." But TK was grinning too.

The orange sunset painted the sky as they walked, and for the first time, Marcus didn't feel like he was living in his brother's shadow. He was just Marcus—the guy who'd hit a double and won a goldfish at the carnival, both in the same weekend.

Life, he decided, was pretty freaking good.