Strikeout Secrets

Marcus stood at the plate, baseball bat gripped tight, palms sweating like crazy. This was it—make the team or spend another summer as the backup benchwarmer for his little sister's coach-pitch league.

"You got this, bro!" Jordan yelled from the dugout, but Marcus could barely hear over the pounding in his ears. Coach Miller wound up and released the pitch—lightning fast, barely a blur. Marcus swung, connected with a solid THWACK, and the ball sailed into a perfect arc toward left field.

But he wasn't thinking about the hit. He was thinking about Maya.

She stood in left field like a sphinx—mysterious, unreadable, watching everything with those dark eyes that made his stomach do these weird little flips. They'd been lab partners since September, and he still couldn't figure her out. Sometimes she barely spoke, other times she'd drop these random deep thoughts that caught him completely off guard.

"Nice hit!" someone yelled, snapping Marcus back to reality. He sprinted toward first base, legs pumping, heart hammering against his ribs. He made it easily, then turned to see if the ball had reached the outfield.

Maya had caught it effortlessly, like she did everything. She stood there a moment, palm resting on her hip, then finally—FINALLY—smiled in his direction. A real smile. Not the polite half-smile she gave teachers. The one that crinkled her eyes and made his chest feel all warm and awkward.

Later, while the team huddled for post-game snacks, Marcus found himself standing next to her by the concession stand. He'd had that stupid spinach wrap from the cafeteria earlier, and he'd been paranoid about his teeth for three hours.

"Hey," Maya said, breaking the silence. "You were actually good out there."

"Thanks." Marcus scratched the back of his neck. "You too, obviously. I mean, you caught that ball like it was nothing."

She shrugged, but her eyes stayed on his. "Hey, Marcus?"

"Yeah?"

"There's something in your teeth."

Mortifying. Absolutely, completely mortifying. He wanted the ground to open up and swallow him whole.

But Maya was laughing, not in a mean way. Her laugh was like—okay, yeah, he was gonna say it. Like lightning. Bright and impossible to look away from.

"I'm messing with you," she said. "You're good. And I was gonna ask if you wanted to study for the bio test tomorrow? At the café?"

Marcus stood there, palms suddenly sweating again for a completely different reason. "Yeah. Yeah, absolutely."

"Cool." She smiled that real smile again. "See you there."

As she walked away, Marcus noticed Jordan watching from the dugout, eyebrows raised. Marcus just shook his head, grinning like an idiot. He might have struck out his first time at bat, but somehow, he'd still won.