Strikeout Season

Jordan's baseball cap sat crooked on his head, practically screaming 'I'm trying too hard.' He leaned against the backstop, watching Maya practice her swing. She was everything he wasn't: confident, graceful, completely unaware that his heart did this weird fluttery thing every time she laughed at something her friends said.

'You gonna stare all day or actually talk to her?' Marcus appeared beside him, dunking a vending machine pretzel.

Jordan's iphone buzzed in his pocket — his mom asking if he needed a ride. Typical.

'I'm not staring,' Jordan lied. 'I'm observing. There's a difference.'

'Man, you've been observing since March.' Marcus laughed. 'Strikeout season's almost over, and you haven't even stepped up to the plate.'

Jordan shoved his hands deeper into his hoodie. The truth was, every time he tried to talk to Maya, his brain short-circuited. What was he supposed to say? 'Hey, nice swing'? Lame. 'I've been watching you from afar'? Creepy.

Then came that moment — the kind that feels like lightning striking way too close. A coach's phone blasting through the speakers, interrupting practice. Everyone's attention shifted. Jordan's iphone slipped from his sweaty grip, clattering onto the concrete with a sickening crack.

Dead silence. Eight people staring.

Maya was the first to move, jogging over. 'You okay?' She picked up his phone, turning it over. 'Screen's shattered but the phone still works.' Her fingers brushed his as she handed it back. 'At least it still turns on.'

'Yeah,' Jordan managed. 'Great timing, right?'

'Actually,' Maya grinned, 'it's perfect timing. Coach was about to make us run laps again.' She leaned closer, lowering her voice. 'Hey, are you going to the carnival this weekend? Everyone's gonna be there.'

The lightning bolt hit again, but this time it didn't short-circuit anything. It cleared everything up.

'Yeah,' Jordan said, and this time his voice didn't shake. 'Yeah, I think I will.'

Maya's smile did something to his chest that felt suspiciously like hope. 'Cool. Save me a turn on the Ferris wheel?'

Baseball practice faded into the background. Strikeout season was over, and Jordan had finally stepped up to the plate.