Padel Court Problems

Maya's hands shook as she clutched the padel racket, her palms sweating through the grip. Tryouts for the varsity team were in twenty minutes, and she'd spent the entire morning doom-scrolling through Instagram, watching clips of last year's players absolutely crush it on the court.

"You got this, girl," said Sasha, sliding onto the bench beside her. "Remember what Coach Martinez said — it's not about being perfect, it's about having that fire."

Maya nodded, trying to believe it. She'd been taking these weird immunity vitamins her mom bought from an influencer online — supposedly they boosted energy and focus. So far, they'd mostly just made her burp glitter.

Across the court, Brad and his crew were loud-talking about their weekend plans, deliberately projecting their voices so everyone would notice. Brad, who acted like he invented padel itself, kept glancing over at Maya and smirking.

"Nervous, Maya?" he called out. "Don't worry, there's always JV."

Something inside her snapped. Maybe it was the vitamins kicking in, or maybe she was just done letting Brad dictate her confidence.

Suddenly, a golden retriever darted onto the court — someone's dog from the park next door. It made a beeline for Brad's racket bag, grabbed his spare racket, and took off running.

"Hey! That's my Limited Edition Pro Model!" Brad yelled, chasing after the dog.

Everyone burst out laughing. Even Coach Martinez was trying not to crack up. Brad's face was bright red as he finally retrieved his slobber-covered racket from the dog's mouth.

Maya stepped onto the court, racket in hand, something clicking into place. She didn't need some influencer's glitter-burp vitamins. She didn't need Brad's approval. She just needed to play.

Her first serve nailed the corner line. Perfect.

"Alright then," Coach Martinez called out, grinning. "Let's see what you've really got."