Knuckleballs and Cat Whispers

Jordan's palms were sweating so much he could practically water plants with them. Standing in the batter's box during tryouts, with half the sophomore class watching from the bleachers, felt like the most exposed moment of his sixteen years.

"You got this, J!" yelled Marcus, his best friend since kindergarten. Jordan gripped the bat tighter. He hadn't played organized baseball since fourth grade, but his mom had decided this was the year he'd "come out of his shell" — whatever that meant. Apparently her shell-busting strategy involved signing him up for varsity tryouts without actually consulting him first.

The pitcher wound up and released. Jordan swung so hard he practically spun himself into the ground. Strike three. The collective groan from behind the backstop was audible.

"That was... poetic," said Skylar, sliding onto the bleacher next to him after tryouts. She'd been watching, probably for the same reason everyone watched everything: high school was essentially a spectator sport where you were also playing.

"I think I pulled something I didn't know existed," Jordan muttered, hiding his face in his hands.

"Here." Skylar pressed something small and orange into his palm. "Vitamin C. My mom says stress depletes your immune system, and I'm pretty sure you just aged ten years in one inning."

A calico cat appeared from nowhere and wound around Jordan's legs, purring like it had personal stake in his dignity. "Where did this cat come from?"

"That's Mrs. Nguyen's cat. His name is Pickles. He shows up at emotionally significant moments. It's weirdly reliable." Skylar studied Jordan's face. "You know, nobody actually cares that you struck out. Like, literally everyone is thinking about themselves. Marcus is probably worrying about that pimple on his chin right now."

Jordan looked at the cat, at the orange vitamin in his hand, at Skylar who was wearing socks with sandals like she genuinely didn't care what anyone thought. "You think?"

"Bro, I saw Liam faceplant in the cafeteria yesterday and the only person still talking about it is Liam." She punched his shoulder. "Anyway, want to get boba? Marcus is meeting us there. He says he has news about Maya."

"Since when does Marcus talk to Maya?"

"Since Friday." Skylar grinned. "When you were busy having an existential crisis about baseball tryouts."

Jordan laughed, and the weird tension in his chest finally loosened. "Okay. But I'm never touching a bat again."

"Deal." Pickles the cat bumped his head against Jordan's ankle, like even the cat approved. "Anyway, you looked way cooler than Liam. You swung like you meant it."

"That's one way to describe it."

Walking toward the parking lot, Jordan realized his hands weren't sweating anymore. Sometimes the vitamin you needed wasn't anything you could buy — it was just showing up, making a fool of yourself, and realizing that everyone else was too busy worrying about their own strikeouts to notice yours.