Orange Courts and Old Bears

The fluorescent **orange** of the padel court blurred through my tears as I stood frozen, racket gripped so tight my knuckles turned white. "You good, Maya?" Jake called from across the net, his voice tight with that specific teenage awkwardness when someone's having a moment and nobody knows what to do.

I wiped my eyes with the back of my hand. "Yeah, just... allergies."

Total lie. Maya Chen doesn't do allergies. Maya Chen is the girl who aced pre-calc without trying, whose Instagram aesthetic is deliberately chaotic-chic, who moved here eighth grade year and somehow slid into the popular crowd without even trying. But Maya Chen also hasn't spoken to her best **friend** since the Incident™ last month, and apparently that catches up with you eventually.

"You're holding the racket wrong," Jake said, approaching tentatively. "Here, like this." He adjusted my grip, his hands brushing mine. My stomach did that awful fluttery thing it's been doing since September, which is ridiculous because Jake is literally dating Chloe, whose hair somehow always looks perfect even during third period gym.

"My grandma swears by **vitamin** C for stress," Jake added casually, like he hadn't just made my heart do backflips. "Probably pseudoscience though."

I let out a surprised laugh. "Probably. But honestly? At this point I'll try anything."

The truth was, I hadn't been sleeping. The silence where Luna used to be was louder than any fight we'd ever had. We'd been inseparable since sixth grade, bonded over our shared obsession with obscure indie bands and making fun of everyone at our middle school. Then high school hit, and Luna decided she was too cool for everything we loved, started hanging out with the seniors who smoked behind the gym, and slowly, painfully, drifted away.

"You know," Jake said, hitting a **padel** ball against the wall, "Luna talks about you constantly."

My head snapped up. "What?"

"Yeah. She thinks you hate her now." He shrugged. "Teenagers are dumb, right?"

The confession hit me like a physical thing. All this time, I'd thought Luna was the one who outgrew me, when really we were both just... scared.

"I have this giant **bear** from when I was little," I found myself saying. "His name's Barnaby and he's seen some stuff. Luna gave him to me when I broke my arm in sixth grade."

Jake's grin was genuine. "That's honestly kind of adorable, don't even front."

My phone buzzed in my pocket. A text from Luna: heard ur at padel w Jake. can we talk?

"I think I need to go," I said, already moving.

"Go get your friend back," Jake said, nodding toward the exit. "And hey, Maya? Your backhand's actually fire."

I didn't look back, but I could feel the orange court glowing behind me like a promise.