Lightning in the Dugout

The lightning crackled across the sky, perfectly matching the chaos in my stomach. I adjusted my cap for the fiftieth time, trying to look like I belonged on the baseball field instead of hiding in the dugout like a fraud.

"You good, Marcus?" Jordan asked, sliding onto the bench beside me. He was the kind of guy who made everything look effortless—his baseball jersey actually fit, his hair somehow stayed perfect in humidity, and he'd never once gotten spinach stuck in his braces during lunch period like I had last week. The entire cafeteria had witnessed my green-toothed glory. I was still recovering socially.

"Just thinking about my batting average," I muttered. "Which is currently zero."

He laughed, throwing an arm around my shoulder like we'd been best friends since kindergarten instead of since last week's chemistry lab pairing. "Dude, everyone strikes out. It's literally part of the game."

Easy for him to say. He wasn't dealing with the fact that his cousin Riley—the fox-eyed pitcher with the wicked curveball and the smile that made my brain short-circuit—was watching from the mound. Every time she looked my way, I transformed into something between a zombie and a malfunctioning robot.

"Marcus! You're up!" Coach's voice cut through my spiral.

I grabbed the bat, my palms sweating. Riley wound up, and the ball came at me like it had personal vendetta. I swung, connected with nothing but air. Strike one.

"Tighten your swing!" someone yelled. Probably Tyler, who'd been making zombie apocalypse jokes about me since I tripped over my own cleats yesterday.

Second pitch. I swung again. Strike two.

Then the sky opened up. Rain poured down as lightning flashed closer, and the umpire called the game. Everyone scattered toward the locker room, but I froze, suddenly hyper-aware that I was alone in the downpour with Riley jogging toward me.

"Hey!" she called, dodging puddles. "You almost had that last one."

I stared at her, rain plastering my hair to my forehead, probably looking like a drowned rat. "I swung at nothing."

"Yeah, but your form was solid." She grinned. "Same time tomorrow? I can help you with your swing if you want."

I nodded, unable to form words. As she ran toward the locker room, I stood there in the rain, zero hits but somehow feeling like I'd won everything.