Surveillance at the Padel Court

Leo's golden retriever, Buster, had zero chill. Every time the popular kids gathered at the Miller's pool house for their legendary padel tournaments, Buster would lose his entire mind. Whining. Scratching at the fence like a dramatic teenager who'd just been grounded.

"Bro, you're ACTUALLY embarrassing me," Leo whispered, though nobody could hear them. They were crouched behind the pool house, on what Leo had dubbed his "spy perch." Technically trespassing. Technically being a creep.

But also: technically gathering intel.

The padel court had become the new social hierarchy. If you couldn't play, you didn't exist. Leo had watched from the sidelines—okay, from behind bushes—as Sophie Chen, eighth-grade goddess, dominated the court with her devastating backhand. Her laugh echoing across the pool area like it was paid for by the laugh budget.

Buster bolted.

"NO. BUSTER. NO."

Too late. The dog burst through the rhododendrons like a furry missile, straight toward the padel court where Sophie and her friends were mid-game. Leo scrambled after him, shouting whispers that weren't actually whispers.

Sophie stopped mid-swing. Everyone stared.

"Is that... your dog?" she asked, and Leo's entire life flashed before his eyes. Every awkward lunch table moment. Every time he'd spoken when nobody was listening.

"Yeah. Sorry. He's just—"

"ADORABLE." Sophie dropped her racquet and was suddenly kneeling in the grass, Buster immediately accepting her worship like he'd been planning this whole thing. "What's his name?"

"Buster."

"Buster. I love that. Are you Leo? From algebra?"

He nodded, waiting for the roast. The eye roll. The "okay, you can leave now" energy.

"You play?" She pointed at the empty padel court.

"Terribly."

"Perfect."

And that was how Leo found himself playing padel with Sophie Chen, Buster serving as an extremely biased line judge, while the rest of the popular kids actually watched. Not like they were watching a joke. Like they were watching him. Like he was someone worth watching.

Later, as the pool party heated up, Sophie sat beside him on the pool edge, legs dangling in the water. "We thought you were, like, too cool to hang out with us. You were always watching from back there."

Leo laughed. "I was just intimidated."

"Same," she said. "I thought you were judging my backhand."

Buster chose that moment to shake pool water all over both of them.

"Okay," Leo said, wiping water from his face. "That's valid. Your backhand DOES need work."

Sophie splashed him, and for the first time, Leo didn't feel like the kid watching from the spy perch. He was just another teenager at a pool party, with the world's worst dog, figuring it out as he went.