Orange Glove Summer

I was running toward the back fence of Miller's Field, heart hammering like I'd just chugged three Monsters back-to-back. The sun was setting in this insane orange blaze, the kind that makes your phone camera look basic no matter what filter you use.

"You're holding it wrong again," Jordan called from the pitcher's mound. He was the kind of bull-headed captain who thought baseball was life itself, while I was just there because my dad signed me up without asking. Again.

I adjusted my glove—this ancient orange thing I'd found at a garage sale, somehow still intact after years of neglect. Jordan hated it. Said it looked like a traffic accident. But I liked how it didn't match anyone else's pristine black gear.

"You got this, new kid!" Tessa yelled from the bleachers. She was leaning against the fence with that effortless fox-like grin that made my stomach do weird gymnastics every time she looked my way. Tessa, who'd transferred here three months ago and already had the whole sophomore class wrapped around her finger. Tessa, who I'd accidentally made eye contact with during lunch yesterday and hadn't stopped thinking about since.

Jordan wound up and threw. The ball sailed toward me, fast and aggressive, demanding my full attention. I caught it, felt the sting in my palm, the weird satisfaction of getting it right this time.

"Not terrible," Jordan admitted, like he was granting me a favor. "Practice Tuesday. Don't be late."

As I walked back toward the dugout, Tessa caught up with me. "Nice catch," she said, falling into step beside me. "Your glove's sick, by the way. Where'd you get it?"

"Garage sale," I managed, trying to sound casual instead of like my brain was currently short-circuiting. "My dad thought I needed a hobby that didn't involve screens."

She laughed. "Parents, right? Mine tried to get me into softball freshman year. I was terrible. Still am." She paused. "Hey, a bunch of us are going to the Dairy Queen after this. You should come."

I looked at my orange glove, then at her easy smile, at the sky shifting from orange to purple. For the first time all summer, I didn't feel like I was running away from something or toward something else. I was just here, and somehow, that was enough.

"Yeah," I said. "I think I will."