Strikeout at Sunset

Marcus's palms were sweating so much he could practically water the grass. Standing at home plate during the most important baseball game of freshman year—town rivalry against Westbridge—with everyone watching. Including Emma.

'Swing batter!' someone yelled from the bleachers. Great. Now the whole school would witness his impending humiliation. Not that his social standing could get much lower after accidentally liking his crush's Instagram post from 2017 last week.

'You got this, M!' Emma shouted, cupping her hands around her mouth. Marcus's stomach did that weird flutter thing. The same flutter he'd been ignoring all semester while they'd been partnered in bio.

The pitcher wound up, and crack—Marcus connected. He took off running like his life depended on it, diving safely into second base just as the ball whizzed past. But as he scrambled up from the dirt, lightning split the sky. Everyone froze.

'Game called!' the umpire shouted as thunder rattled the metal bleachers. 'Everybody, now!'

Rain poured down as students scattered toward the covered concession stand. Marcus ended up pressed shoulder-to-shoulder with Emma under the narrow awning, watching palm trees bend in the wind like they were dancing to some invisible beat.

'You were amazing,' Emma said, her breath visible in the sudden chill. 'That slide? Insane.'

'Pure luck,' Marcus laughed, though his palms were still sweating for a completely different reason now.

'Marcus?' She looked up at him through rain-fringed lashes. 'I've been meaning to ask—'

'Yeah?' His heart hammered harder than any at-bat.

'There's this party at Jake's Saturday. His parents are out of town. You going?'

Was she asking what he thought she was asking? No, probably not. Emma Chen, homecoming court material, asking Marcus 'two-left-feet' Rivera to a party? Yeah right.

'Probably not,' he said, trying to sound casual. 'Not really my scene.'

'Oh.' Emma looked away. 'Cool. Just thought... never mind.'

The rain slowed. The team gathered their gear. Marcus walked home alone, realizing too late he'd just struck out with the one person he actually wanted to impress. Sometimes in baseball, and in life, you have to swing at the pitch—even when you're terrified you'll miss.