Palm Trees Don't Care

The problem wasn't that I couldn't play padel. The problem was that I couldn't play padel while making it look effortless, like Maya and her squad somehow did naturally.

I stood at the edge of the court, gripping my racquet like it was a lifeline. Beyond the fence, palm trees swayed in the breeze, completely unbothered by my existential crisis. Lucky them.

"You coming, Hayden?" Maya called from across the net. She flipped her ponytail, and I swear slow motion was involved.

"Yeah! Just... stretching."

I fumbled with my iphone,假装 to check a notification that absolutely didn't exist. My screen showed 11:47 AM and zero new messages. The screen was so clean it practically reflected my panic back at me.

The bright orange ball bounced near my feet. Someone—probably Jake—had hit it way too hard.

"Sorry!" he called, not sounding sorry at all.

I scooped it up, my palm sweating against the rubber surface. This was it. The moment I'd been overthinking all week. I'd somehow gotten invited to Maya's Saturday padel session, and instead of being excited, I was calculating approximately forty ways I could embarrass myself.

But then I noticed something.

Maya's phone had cracked screen. Jake was wearing socks with sandals (intentionally, apparently?). The perfect squad wasn't perfect.

They were just people, hitting an orange ball around a fenced court, pretending they knew what they were doing.

I stepped onto the court, sweat dripping down my back. Who cared if I missed? The palm trees definitely didn't.

"Alright," I said, surprising myself. "Let's do this."

Maya grinned. "Finally! Prepare to lose, newbie."

I hit the ball straight into the net.

Everyone laughed.

And for the first time all day, I did too.