Orange Peels and Fastballs

Maya's been **running** laps for forty-five minutes when her **iPhone** buzzes. She ignores it first—out here, with the sky bleeding pink and her lungs burning, she's not the girl who's always in her head overthinking everything. She's just motion.

Then it buzzes again. Chloe: "Marcus asked about you 💀"

Maya's stomach does a full flip. Marcus, the **baseball** team's golden boy, her middle school crush who somehow got even more fine over the summer. She's been lowkey obsessed since he helped her pick up her dropped books in seventh grade.

"wdym???" she types back, thumbs flying.

"He asked if you're coming to the game Friday. I told him maybe?"

Maya's heart sinks. Truth is, she hasn't been to a single game. Crowds ain't it, and she's not trying to be awkward on the sidelines.

Dinner's **spinach** salad again. Her mom's on some health kick. "It's good for you, Maya."

Maya pushes it around her plate, thinking about Marcus at home plate, how his jersey clings to his shoulders, how everyone screams his name like he's the main character. What would she even yell? She doesn't want to be basic.

Friday comes and Maya's staring at herself in the mirror, overthinking her outfit. She settles on her oversized gray hoodie and beat-up Converse. Authentic, right?

The game's actually hype. Bottom of the ninth, two outs, bases loaded. Marcus steps up. The whole stadium's on their feet. Maya's standing too, caught up in it.

The pitch comes. Marcus swings.

CRACK.

Home run. The place goes absolutely feral. Maya's screaming, jumping, everything. For a second, she's not the quiet girl who sits in the back. She's just here.

After, Marcus finds her by the exit. He's got this **orange** Gatorade, sweat dripping, smile brighter than the field lights.

"You came!" he says, actual excitement in his voice.

"Yeah," Maya manages. "You ate that up."

He laughs. "Thanks! Hey, come to the team party tomorrow? Everyone's gonna be there."

"Bet," she says, casual, like her insides aren't screaming.

Walking home, her phone's blowing up from Chloe. The air smells like summer. Maya's grinning at nothing. She's still awkward, still overthinks everything. But she showed up. And tomorrow? She's going to that party.

Maya finally feels like she's playing the game instead of watching from the sidelines.