Strike Zone

The bull stared at me from across the street—massive, muscular, totally blocking my path to the baseball field. His nickname fit. Tyler 'The Bull' Henderson leaned against his pickup, making sure I saw him fist-bump his crew. Everyone at North High knew The Bull ruled the social ladder, and apparently, he'd decided I was his newest climbing wall.

'Hey, Baseball Boy,' Tyler called out. 'Tryna practice for another losing season?'

My cheeks burned. I gripped my bat tighter and kept walking, my heart doing this weird fluttery thing. Behind me, Luna—my scruffy, one-eyed rescue dog—growled low in her throat, sensing my stress like always.

'Ignore him,' I muttered to myself, but Luna had other plans. She trotted right up to The Bull's truck and lifted her leg.

Tyler's crew went dead silent. Then they lost it.

'Your dog just christened my truck, Baseball Boy!' Tyler didn't even sound mad. He was laughing. 'That's messed up.' He high-fived his friends. 'Respect.

I froze. This wasn't supposed to happen. Bullys don't laugh when dogs pee on their property. They explode.

'Sorry!' I choked out, rushing to grab Luna's leash. 'She's—she's never done that before.'

'Total power move, though,' Tyler said, grinning. 'You coming to tryouts today?'

The question hit me like a fastball to the helmet. 'You... want me there?'

'Coach needs a pitcher.' Tyler opened his door. 'And anyone whose dog has that kind of attitude? Yeah. We need that energy.' He pointed at me. 'Don't be late, Baseball Boy.

Luna thumped her tail against my leg as The Bull drove away, and something inside me—something tight and terrified—finally loosened. Sometimes the scariest moments turn out to be the ones that change everything. I adjusted my cap and whispered to her, 'We got this.'