Poolside Strikeout

The baseball lay forgotten in the grass, exactly where I'd thrown it after striking out for the third time that week.

I zipped through the cable channels, settling on MTV while Miguel FaceTimed me. He was still at the field, high-fiving his teammates like he hadn't just watched me humiliate myself at bat again.

My older sister's friend Sophia waltzed in, interrupting my pity party. She wore cutoffs and this effortless confidence I couldn't pull off if my life depended on it. I had her cable-knit sweater draped across my beanbag chair from when she'd borrowed my room earlier.

"You coming to Jordan's?" she asked casually, already knowing the answer.

My stomach twisted. Jordan's party would have everyone — varsity players, perfect people, the crowd that barely acknowledged my existence. Probably exactly where I didn't want to show my face after today's disaster.

"Nah, not feeling it." I kept my eyes glued to the TV.

Sophia sighed dramatically. "Ari, you're being dramatic. Nobody cares that you struck out. They're all gonna be too busy trying not to drown in Jordan's pool anyway."

Something in her tone made me pause. Sophia knew something. She always did.

I slipped on my slides. Being the friend who always showed up mattered more than my pride.

The house thumped with bass when we arrived. I spotted Miguel across the pool, doing cannonballs with his varsity jacket still on. He caught my eye and pointed at the diving board.

"Your turn!" he yelled.

But I wasn't thinking about baseball anymore. I was thinking about cable ties.

Jordan's dad owned a hardware store, and someone had discovered a massive bucket of cable ties near the patio. The boys had started a game — hands zip-tied behind backs, competing to hold their breath underwater the longest. The loser had to jump in fully clothed.

It was stupid. It was dangerous. It was exactly the kind of thing I would have talked myself out of before tonight.

Mikkel, a quiet kid from my English class, sat poolside watching. He caught me looking and nodded toward the chaos.

"Wanna go next?" he asked.

I didn't have to think. I pulled off my slides and stepped toward the chaos.

For the first time all week, I didn't care about striking out. I was just ready to play.