Sweaty Palms and Secrets

Leo stood in the concession stand line, palms sweating so much he practically left puddles. Three years of crushing on Jasmine, and today was finally the day he'd talk to her. Naturally, fate had other plans.

He caught his reflection in the glass — a massive, bright green chunk of **spinach** wedged between his front teeth. From that morning's smoothie, obviously. Because of course.

Leo scrubbed frantically with his napkin, heart hammering. The **baseball** game blared overhead. Bottom of the ninth. His friends were probably wondering where he'd disappeared to, but he'd been too busy hyping himself up for this moment.

He got the spinach out. Fixed his hair. Practiced his opening line under his breath.

Then he saw something that made his stomach drop.

His dad, the stadium security chief, stood by the equipment gate. But he wasn't checking tickets. He was meeting someone in a coach's uniform — **Coach Miller**, from the opposing team. They exchanged something small and metallic. Their **palms** brushed in a handshake that lasted way too long.

What.

The actual.

Heck.

His dad wasn't just security. He was a **spy**. Here. At work. During the championship finals.

Leo's brain short-circuited. All those late nights. The "emergency calls." The weird questions about stadium layout. His dad had been feeding info to the other team for months.

His phone buzzed. Unknown number.

"Tell anyone," the text read, "and you're off the travel team roster. Permanently."

Coach Miller.

Leo's knees threatened to buckle. But then he felt it — wet nose against his hand. Buster, the team's emotional support **dog**, had wandered over from his usual spot by the dugout. The golden retriever nudged Leo's palm, like he knew.

Like he was saying: dude, you got this.

Jasmine walked by, smiled. "You okay, Leo? You look like you've seen a ghost."

Leo looked at his dad, then at Buster, then at Jasmine. His heart was still racing. But suddenly, the sweat on his palms felt different. Not panic. Power.

"Never been better," Leo said. And for the first time in his life, it wasn't a lie.

Blackmail or not, Coach Miller had no idea who he was dealing with. Leo pulled out his phone, started recording. This summer was about to get way more interesting than baseball.