Spinach Between the Bases

Marcus stood against the garage wall, baseball cap pulled low over his eyes. The Friday night party swirl of sophomore year felt like walking onto the field without ever having picked up a bat. Everyone moved with this effortless rhythm — laughs too loud, clothes too perfect, inside jokes he'd never understand.

He should've stayed home playing MLB The Show. At least there, pressing X meant something predictable.

"Hey, Baseball Cap."

Maya. She appeared with a red Solo cup, her signature mismatched socks somehow working. Marcus had liked her since seventh period English, when she'd argued that symbolism was just authors being pretentious.

"What's up," he managed, his voice cracking slightly. Kill me now.

"You look like you're sizing up the competition." She nodded toward the driveway where some guys played pickup basketball. "Or hiding."

"Both."

She laughed, and it hit him then — spinach. From dinner. His mom's stupid attempt at being healthy, and now he'd been walking around with green stuff stuck between his teeth like some kind of social disaster.

Marcus bolted toward the bathroom, palm sweating around his phone.

A cat darted across his path — some stray that lived under the porch. It stopped and stared at him, judging.

"I know, okay? I know."

He locked himself in the bathroom, scrubbed until his gums felt raw. When he finally emerged, Maya was waiting.

"Better?" she grinned.

"You knew?"

"I was gonna tell you, but you ran away like the place was on fire." She held up her hand. "Want me to read your palm? I learned from a YouTube video. It's probably nonsense, but whatever."

"Sure."

Her fingers traced his lifeline. The basketball game continued outside, someone's phone buzzed with a text, the party kept spinning around them.

"You're going to do something unexpected soon," she said. "I can see it."

"Yeah? What's that?"

"No clue. But you've got this" — she pointed at his palm — "ambition line thing. And this part means you'll figure out who you are when you stop trying so hard."

Marcus looked at his hand, then at her. The baseball cap somehow felt heavier, like he'd outgrown it without noticing.

"Hey," Maya said. "You hungry? There's pizza in the kitchen. No spinach."

He smiled, really smiled. "Lead the way."