Strikeout Season

Maya's hair was supposed to be copper highlights. Instead, it looked like a fox had exploded on her head.

"It's... bold," her best friend Ji-won said, wincing.

"Bold" meant disaster. Maya had spent her babysitting money on this haircut before sophomore year, and now she had to walk into baseball tryouts looking like a woodland creature in cleats.

The sky crackled. Actual lightning forked across the clouds as Maya stepped up to the plate. Perfect. The universe was literally laughing at her.

"Fox girl's up!" someone shouted from the dugout. Maya gripped the bat, palms sweating. She could just walk away. Quit. No one would blame her—not after the hair, not after last season's epic fail when she'd frozen at home plate and watched the ball roll past her like it was moving in slow motion.

But her dad was in the stands. He'd taken time off his night shift just to be here. Again.

The pitcher wound up and released. Fastball.

Maya didn't think. She swung.

CRACK.

The ball sailed into the outfield as Maya bolted toward first base, her shoes gripping the dirt, heart hammering. She could hear her teammates screaming. She slid into second, legs burning, hair flying everywhere—orange disaster and all.

Safe.

Ji-won was jumping up and down. Even the pitcher gave her a nod.

"Nice hit, Fox," said the captain, slapping her helmet. "Weird hair, though."

Maya grinned, wiping dirt from her cheek. Maybe the hair was a disaster. Maybe she'd still get cut from the team. But in that moment, rounding second base while lightning flickered overhead like paparazzi flashes, she didn't care. She was just a girl who'd finally taken a swing.