Orange Padel Bull Run

Marcus adjusted the bright orange padel racket strapped to his backpack, feeling like a walking traffic cone. His sister had lent it to him—said it was "vintage," but Marcus knew she just wanted him to look ridiculous at tryouts today.

"You got this, Marcus," muttered Toby, his best friend since third grade, who was currently struggling with his own locker combination. "Just don't think about how everyone's watching. Or how Jenna Cameron will be there. Or how you've never actually played padel before."

"Thanks, Toby. Your optimism is truly inspiring."

They were walking behind the school near the old Henderson farm when Marcus heard it—a low, ground-shaking rumble. Like thunder, except the sky was perfectly blue.

"Did you hear that?"

"Hear what?" Toby pulled out his phone, already scrolling. "I'm just saying, if you choke, at least make it funny. Choke with style."

Then came the snort. Loud, wet, and unmistakably NOT thunder.

Marcus turned. Standing twenty yards behind them, munching on a truly impressive amount of grass, was a bull. An actual, fully-grown, horns-for-days bull, wearing a faded orange collar that matched Marcus's racket perfectly.

"Toby."

"Yeah?"

"There is a bull behind us."

"Cool story, bro."

Marcus grabbed Toby's shoulder and spun him around. Toby's phone slipped from his hand, clattering onto the pavement. The bull lifted its head, chewed thoughtfully, and stared them down with what Marcus interpreted as mild judgment.

"OH MY GOD THAT'S A BULL," Toby shrieked, his voice cracking three times in one sentence. The bull took a step forward.

"RUN!"

They bolted toward the school, Marcus's orange padel racket bouncing wildly against his back. He could hear the bull's hooves thundering behind them—loud, rhythmic, and entirely too close.

"WHY IS IT CHASING US?" Toby yelled, wheezing.

"MAYBE IT DOESN'T LIKE YOUR SHIRT!"

They burst through the gym's back doors, skidding across the waxed floor and crashing directly into Coach Miller, who was holding a clipboard and looking extremely unamused.

Behind them, the bull stopped at the doorway, snorted once, and turned back toward the field like it had somewhere better to be.

"Running late again, gentlemen?" Coach Miller raised an eyebrow. "And why is Mr. Henderson's bull wearing my daughter's orange collar?"

Marcus and Toby exchanged glances. Then they started laughing. First Toby, then Marcus, until they were doubled over, gasping for breath while Coach Miller sighed and called animal control.

Later that day, Marcus walked onto the padel court with his ridiculous orange racket. Jenna Cameron was there, watching. Everyone was watching. But for some reason, the terrifying pressure of tryouts felt different now. Manageable.

He'd been chased by a bull. He could handle anything.

"Nice racket," Jenna called from the sidelines. "Very bold."

Marcus grinned, adjusting the strap. "Yeah. I run from bulls in it on the weekend."

She laughed. A real laugh.

"Cool," she said.

Maybe his sister's vintage gear wasn't so bad after all.