Spinach Slide into Home

Leo's vintage Dodgers hat was his armor. Worn backward, pulled low enough to hide his eyes but not his insecurity. At fifteen, he'd mastered the art of blending into the background.

"You coming?" yelled Jenna, tapping her bat against home plate. Summer pickup baseball in the park—her idea. Not his.

Leo adjusted his hat and shuffled toward the outfield, where he'd strategically position himself to make zero contact with the actual game. Jenna, with her effortless confidence and perfect swing, was everything he wasn't. Which was exactly why he'd been crushing on her for three months.

His neighbor's dog, a chaotic golden retriever named Buster, bolted across the field chasing a butterfly. Someone had left the gate open again. Buster was like that—uncontainable energy, zero impulse control, a total idiot but lovable.

Leo's stomach growled. He'd skipped breakfast to avoid his mom's kale smoothies, but now he regretted it. There was a cooler on the bench with sandwiches. He'd grab one after this inning. Maybe sit by Jenna without his brain turning into static.

Foul ball sailed toward him. Leo froze, arms flailing like a panicked flamingo. The ball bonked off his shoulder.

"My bad, haha," someone called. "You okay, Leo?"

"Yeah, totally," he managed, though his face burned.

Afterward, he slunk toward the cooler, grabbed a turkey sandwich, and took a massive bite. Spinach leaves exploded from the bread, cascading down his front like confetti from a terrible party. Bright green chunks dotted his gray t-shirt.

Jenna dropped beside him on the bench. "Hey."

Leo's brain short-circuited. He tried to swallow but choked instead, hacking like a dying seal while pointing frantically at his spinach-covered shirt, as if that would somehow help.

Jenna burst out laughing. Not mean laughing. The real kind. She reached over, picked a spinach leaf off his shoulder, and flicked it away. "I did that last week with blueberry yogurt. Looked like I'd been shot."

Leo stopped choking. "Seriously?"

"Walked around for twenty minutes," she said, grinning. "No one told me because they thought it was war paint."

Their shoulders brushed. Leo's hat slipped slightly, and for the first time, he didn't adjust it.

"Want to play again?" Jenna asked. "Or we can just sit here and look like we got into a food fight."

Leo smiled. "Let's play. But warn me if Buster comes back. I don't need anymore accessories."

Buster chose that moment to return, sliding across home plate like a baseball pro, scattering stolen hot dog buns everywhere.

"Okay," Leo said. "Maybe I spoke too soon."