Spinach Incident at Home Plate

Marcus Chen's dad literally installs cable for a living, which might as well be a criminal offense in the social pyramid that constitutes Lincoln High. But today, Marcus had a plan. A brilliant, foolproof plan that would finally launch him out of the basement-level social tier and right into the stratosphere where Jordan Park and the varsity baseball gods lived.

"You got this, bro," his best friend Leo said, though his face said 'you're absolutely going to embarrass yourself.'

Marcus adjusted his cap, trying to look like he belonged at baseball tryouts instead of like someone who'd rather be home watching anime. His plan: impress Jordan with his pitching skills, get invited to the party this weekend, finally stop being known as 'that cable guy's kid.' Simple. Elegant. Destined to fail.

The lunch bell had interrupted his spinach-and-feta wrap mid-bite, so now a green fleck the size of a small country was absolutely stuck between his front teeth. He'd spent twenty minutes in the bathroom trying to dislodge it with his tongue, a finger, and finally a paperclip like a desperate weirdo.

"Chen! You're up!" Jordan yelled from home plate, and suddenly Marcus was walking toward the mound while sixteen pairs of eyes evaluated his worth as a human being.

His first pitch sailed wild. "Looks like cable runs in the family," someone snickered, and Marcus felt his face burn hotter than a thousand suns. His dad's job had followed him here, like a curse he couldn't escape.

Second pitch: a strike.

Third pitch: Jordan hit it straight back, laughing with that effortless confidence that made everyone want to be him or be with him. "Not bad, cable guy. Not bad."

Marcus's hand went to his mouth in horror. THE SPINACH. The entire tryout, the entire time he'd been trying to impress Jordan Park and ascend the social pyramid, he'd been smiling with spinach in his teeth like a total goblin.

He wanted to dissolve. He wanted to transfer schools. He wanted his dad to install cable on Mars.

But then Jordan was jogging toward him, still grinning. "Yo, you got something right—" Jordan gestured to his own teeth, and Marcus died inside. "But honestly? That spin move on the mound was sick. You're coming to the party tonight, right?"

Marcus stood there, spinach and all, and realized maybe the pyramid wasn't so steep after all. Or maybe baseball players just didn't notice stuff like that because they were too busy hitting things with sticks. Either way, he'd take it.