Spinach Stains and Second Serves

The locker room smelled like old sweat and aerosol body spray. Leo stared at his cleats, then at the sleek padel racquet in Maya's hand.

"You coming?" Maya asked, leaning against the door frame. She'd been his best friend since kindergarten, back when they'd both worn mismatched socks without caring. Now she was varsity captain, popular, and somehow effortless at everything.

"I can't," Leo said. "Baseball tryouts are in two weeks. Coach says if I miss practice, I'm off the team."

Maya rolled her eyes. "Baseball, seriously? Nobody cares about baseball anymore, Leo. Padel's where it's at. Even Jenna's playing now."

Jenna. The name hit like a bad pitch. Leo had been crushing on her since seventh grade, and she'd barely glanced his way until last week, when she'd laughed at one of his jokes in chem lab.

"Fine," he said. "One time. But if Coach finds out—"

"He won't." She tossed him a spare racquet. "Meet at the courts at four. And Leo? Maybe don't wear your baseball uniform."

At dinner, his mom served spinach lasagna. "You've got something in your teeth," she said.

Leo spent twenty minutes with floss and a mirror, but the stubborn green shred wouldn't budge. He gave up and grabbed his gear.

The padel courts were buzzing. Maya waved him over to a glass-walled court where Jenna waited, stretching in those expensive everyone-has-them leggings.

"Hey!" Jenna smiled, and Leo's stomach did something weird. "Maya said you play baseball? That's cool."

"Yeah," Leo said, self-conscious. "It's okay."

"Show me your swing," she said.

He stepped up to the service line, baseball reflexes kicking in. He wound up, planted his feet, and swung the padel racquet like a bat—hard, with follow-through.

The ball sailed backward, smashing directly into his own forehead.

Silence. Then laughter—not mean laughter, but actual genuine laughter. Even Jenna was laughing.

"Oh my god," Maya said, wiping tears. "That was legendary."

Leo's face burned. He caught his reflection in the glass wall. A perfect green spinach fragment was wedged between his front teeth, framed by an angry red welt.

"I think I have spinach in my teeth," he mumbled.

"Yeah, you really do," Jenna said, grinning. "It's kind of charming, though?"

They played for two hours. Leo was terrible at padel, but Jenna kept giving him tips, and her shoulder brushed his every time they switched sides. By the time they left, the sun was setting, his forehead throbbed, and he'd made plans to meet them tomorrow.

"Same time?" Jenna called.

Leo nodded, not even caring about baseball practice anymore.

"You're welcome," Maya whispered as they walked home. "And for the record? That swing was absolutely tragic."

Leo smiled. Some things were worth being terrible at.