Goldfish on the Court

Marcus stood outside the community center, his baseball glove gathering dust in his backpack. Three weeks ago, he would've given anything to make the varsity team. Now? Now he was clutching a padel racquet like his life depended on it.

"You coming or what?" Jenna called from the entrance, her padel racquet slung over her shoulder like she'd been born with it. "Tyler's waiting."

Marcus swallowed hard. Tyler. The reason Marcus had suddenly developed an obsession with padel, despite having zero experience and absolutely zero hand-eye coordination with anything that wasn't a baseball.

"Yeah," Marcus managed. "Just, uh, stretching."

Inside, the glass-walled courts smelled like rubber and teenage anxiety. Tyler was already there, warming up with his cousin, hitting the ball back and forth with this easy rhythm that made Marcus's stomach hurt. Tyler, with his stupid perfect hair and his stupid perfect padel game and his stupid pet goldfish that he talked about like it was a person.

"Marcus!" Tyler grinned, jogging over. "Ready to get destroyed?"

"In your dreams," Marcus shot back, immediately regretting it. He was going to get destroyed.

The game was exactly as embarrassing as Marcus had anticipated. He swung at air. He tripped over his own feet. At one point, he accidentally served the ball directly into his own forehead. Jenna and Tyler dissolved into laughter, and Marcus felt his face burn.

But then something weird happened. Instead of making fun of him, Tyler started actually coaching him. "No, not like that, look at how I'm holding it—"

And Jenna: "Dude, relax. You're trying too hard. It's just padel, not brain surgery."

By the end of the hour, Marcus had actually hit two balls that went where he intended. Tyler gave him this fist bump that made Marcus's whole brain short-circuit.

"Not bad, rookie," Tyler said. "You should come back Thursday."

Marcus floated out of the community center feeling absolutely lit. Jenna was walking beside him, shaking her head.

"You know," she said, "Tyler's been talking about you all week."

Marcus nearly stopped walking. "What?"

"He noticed you watching us from the baseball field last week. Thought you were checking out the game, but I told him you were probably just checking out him." She smirked. "I think I was right."

Marcus's face burned all over again. "Shut up."

"I'm just saying." Jenna nudged him. "Next time, don't wait three weeks to join us. And maybe—" She paused. "Maybe don't hide your baseball glove so deep in your backpack. It's okay to like both."

Marcus watched her walk away toward her bike, then pulled his phone from his pocket. His mom had sent him a picture of their new goldfish—this tiny orange thing swimming in circles in its bowl.

'Named him Splash,' her text read. 'Think he'll grow up to be strong like you?'

Marcus smiled. Maybe it was time to stop hiding parts of himself to fit in. Maybe he could be a baseball player and a padel player and someone who liked goldfish all at the same time.

He texted back: 'Yeah. I think he's gonna be fine.'