Lucky Hat

Marcus stood at the edge of the diamond, his heart doing that stupid fluttery thing it always did when he mattered. The baseball tryouts were tomorrow, and he hadn't picked up a bat since middle school. But this was sophomore year, and everything was supposed to be different this time.

He tugged his older brother's faded baseball hat lower over his eyes. It was practically ancient, the brim curled at the edges, smelled like old sweat and victory. Jason had worn it when he made varsity as a freshman. Marcus figured some of that magic might still be clinging to the fabric.

"You good, bro?" Zoya asked, dropping onto the bench beside him. She looked fresh as hell, like she hadn't spent the entire night overthinking her existence while doomscrolling through TikTok.

Marcus groaned. "I've been functioning on like, three hours of sleep. I'm literally a zombie right now. If Coach Miller asks me to run bases, I'm gonna faceplant into second base and it's gonna be a whole thing."

"You're overthinking it again," she said, bumping his shoulder. "Just hit the ball, don't hit the ball. It's whatever."

Easy for her to say. Zoya had moved through freshman year like she owned the place, while Marcus had spent most of it trying to become invisible. But this year was supposed to be different. This year, he was supposed to be the guy who did stuff. The guy who joined teams and talked to people and didn't spend every lunch period calculating the optimal time to leave so nobody noticed he was eating alone.

The nickname said it all, though. Around school, Jason was still "The Bull" — the kid who charged through everything, stubborn and fierce and unstoppable. Marcus was just... Jason's awkward little brother. The one who got nervous ordering pizza. The one who practiced conversations in the shower.

But maybe that's why he needed this. Maybe he needed to charge at something instead of away from it.

He tightened the hat, feeling the ghost of his brother's confidence against his forehead. First practice was in an hour. First time stepping onto the field like he belonged there. First time maybe becoming his own person instead of someone's shadow.

"Alright," Marcus said, standing up. His legs felt like jelly but his voice didn't shake. "Let's do this."

"That's the spirit," Zoya grinned. "But if you faceplant, I'm absolutely filming it for the clout."

Marcus laughed. "Deal."