Summer of Secret Histories

The country club pool smelled like coconut sunscreen and chlorine, but I was stuck in the corner, nursing a flat orange soda like it was my job. My sister Lila ruled the social pyramid here — she was at the top, queen of the padel court, while I was basically her personal spy, hiding behind my sunglasses and reporting back on who was talking smack about her serve.

"You see anything?" Lila whispered, sliding into the seat next to me like we were conspirators in a hostage situation instead of just sisters at the pool.

"Tyler from baseball was asking about you," I said, trying to sound chill even though my heart did this stupid little flutter thing. Tyler. The one with the crooked smile and absolutely no game.

Lila rolled her eyes so hard I thought they might get stuck. "Baseball boys are all the same. They think swinging a bat makes them interesting." She cracked open her own orange soda — the fancy kind with actual pulp, not the gas station stuff I settled for. "Anyway, I need you to do something."

Here it came. The pyramid scheme. The thing that always happened when Lila got bored with her current social arrangement. "What now?"

"Tyler's friend Marcus? The one who's always wearing that Raiders cap?" She lowered her voice to a whisper that was totally unnecessary considering nobody was paying attention to us. "I need you to find out if he likes Maya."

I stared at her. "You want me to what?"

"Spy, dummy. Figure it out. Ask around, be subtle." She stood up, flipping her hair like she was in a shampoo commercial. "I'll make it worth your."

"I'm not doing your dirty work," I called after her, but we both knew I would. Because that was my place in the pyramid — the observer, the one who saw everything but was never really part of it. The girl who watched from the sidelines while her sister lived.

Later that night, I found myself at the baseball field anyway, because apparently I had zero backbone. Marcus was there, taking batting practice with Tyler. The field lights hummed this low electrical sound, and the dirt kicked up under his cleats smelled like summer and memory and all the things I couldn't have.

"Hey," I said, walking up like I belonged there. "Nice swing."

Marcus turned, grinning, and for a second I forgot I was supposed to be asking about Maya. Forgot I was just the spy in someone else's story.

"You play?" he asked, tossing me a bat like it was the most natural thing in the world.

The wood felt familiar in my hands. Better than padel racquets, better than the sideways glances at the pool. Here, nobody cared about pyramids or positioning or who sat where at lunch. You either hit the ball or you didn't.

"Sometimes," I said, stepping into the batter's box. And then I did something I never did with Lila watching — I swung for the fences.