Strikeout at Sunset

Jamie's palms were sweating so much she could practically water the dying succulent on her windowsill. Sixteen years old and she'd never successfully talked to Caleb without sounding like a malfunctioning AI assistant.

"You coming to the baseball game today?" Maya asked from their shared bedroom doorway, already decked out in face paint and school spirit. Jamie groaned into her pillow.

"No thanks. I'd rather watch literal paint dry. Or eat that spinach salad Mom made us finish last night."

"Caleb's playing shortstop."

Jamie was out of bed in three seconds flat.

The afternoon sun turned the baseball field into something close to actual torture. Jamie positioned herself three rows up, perfectly angled to watch Caleb without looking like she was watching Caleb. Smooth. Professional. What could go wrong?

Then her stomach made a sound like a dying whale during a perfectly silent inning.

Maya cracked up. "Nice. Real subtle."

Jamie's face burned hotter than the pavement. She should've just eaten the stupid spinach. Or at least brought actual food instead of surviving on anxiety and hope.

Then the sky turned that weird purple-green color that means absolutely nothing good. Lightning cracked across the horizon like something from a disaster movie. The announcer's voice echoed over the PA system: "Folks, we've got weather incoming. Please seek shelter immediately."

Everyone scattered toward the concession stand. Jamie, being Jamie, tripped over someone's abandoned backpack and went down hard. Her palms hit the concrete with enough force that she almost threw up.

A hand appeared in her vision. Calloused, dusted with infield dirt, unmistakable.

"You good?" Caleb said.

Jamie's brain: [error 404, response not found]

"I," she started intelligently.

He laughed, but not in the mean way. In the way that crinkled his eyes at the corners. "Classic. I'm Caleb, by the way. We've had, what, three classes together since middle school?"

The wind picked up. Another lightning strike illuminated everything in stark white — Caleb's perfect hair, his uniform that said Mendoza across the back, Jamie's very uncool attempt at lying flat on the ground.

"Jamie," she managed. "I mean, I'm Jamie. Obviously. You know that. I just—"

"You good to stand up? There's a covered bench over here. My mom's got some snacks in the cooler if you're hungry."

She let him pull her up. His palm was warm against hers, and suddenly this wasn't the most embarrassing moment of her life anymore.

"I might take you up on that," Jamie said. "But no spinach. I've had enough of that to last me until college."

Caleb laughed again as the first raindrop fell between them. "Deal. But I'm warning you — my mom's a health nut. You might regret saying no to the greens."

The storm broke. So did Jamie's terrible luck. And somewhere in the middle of all that lightning and rain and terrible snack choices, she finally figured out how to talk to another human being.

Progress.