Orange Crush & Baseball Caps

Marcus pulled the brim of his brother's old baseball hat lower, trying to disappear into the bleachers. The Carolina-blue fabric smelled like old sweat and better times, back when Devin still lived at home and life made sense.

"You good?" Maya asked, bumping his shoulder with hers. She had that annoying way of seeing right through his fortress of solitude.

"Fine," Marcus mumbled. He'd rather be anywhere but here, watching his high school's baseball team get absolutely destroyed. The guy at bat—the one everyone called "Chad" even though his name was Chad—swung and missed for the third time. The crowd's collective groan was physically painful.

Maya sighed dramatically. "This is painful. I need sustenance." She dug through her backpack and pulled out a colorful bottle of gummies. "Want one? They're those hair-skin-nails things my mom's obsessed with. Basically a multivitamin that costs thirty dollars."

Marcus snorted. "I'm good. My mom still makes me take those chewable orange Flintstones things. Like I'm seven."

"No way." Maya's eyes lit up with mischief. "Show me."

"What? No."

"I bet you have them in your backpack right now. Don't lie to me, Marcus."

He felt his face heating up. Because yeah, okay, they were there. His mom had slipped them into his side pocket that morning with a sticky note that said "Don't forget! Love you! ❤️" Which was honestly worse than the vitamins themselves.

"Okay, fine." He unzipped the pocket and produced the bottle, which featured a dancing cartoon orange on the label. Maya absolutely lost it, cackling with genuine delight, and Marcus found himself laughing too. Something about the absurdity of it—sitting at a baseball game he didn't care about, failing at being cool, while his best friend roasted him for children's vitamins.

"You know what?" Maya said, wiping actual tears from her eyes. "At least they're orange flavor. That's valid. Orange is a top-tier flavor."

"Top-tier? What does that even mean?"

"It means I'd rather eat an orange gummy vitamin than watch this game. Also, Chad just struck out again. We should leave."

Marcus looked at the field, where the players were dejectedly gathering their equipment. He looked at Maya, still grinning, her hair messy from the wind. He looked at the stupid orange vitamin bottle in his hand.

"Yeah," he said, actually smiling for real this time. "Let's bail. I know a place."

"Do they sell orange soda?"

"Obviously. What kind of question is that?"

As they walked away from the baseball diamond, Marcus adjusted his hat—and this time, he didn't pull it down to hide. He just wore it. Maybe that was enough. Maybe that was everything.