Sweaty Palms & Stolen Bases

The palm of my hand wouldn't stop sweating.

I stood against the chain-link fence, watching as Marcus and the guys laughed near the dugout. They were the kind of loud that sounded like confidence. My best friend since elementary school, now too cool to wave back.

"Yo, Tyler!" Marcus called. "You coming or what?"

My brain short-circuited. Come where? Join the pickup baseball game that had been going on every Sunday since seventh grade? The same one I'd bailed on for three weeks straight because my anxiety had decided this was the summer I'd become socially inept?

I opened my mouth but nothing came out. Then I heard it — barking. A golden retriever came tearing around the outfield, chasing a ball that wasn't there, tongue flopping, ears flying. The most dog thing I'd ever seen.

Everyone stopped. Laughed. Pointed. The dog galloped toward me, stopping at my feet like I was its person.

"That's Butter's dog," someone said. "Got out again."

My heart was doing that running-away-from-bears thing it did whenever I had to interact with humans, but as I knelt to pet the dog, something shifted. The dog leaned into my hand, all warmth and no judgment. No asking why I'd been weird lately. No awkward pauses.

"Hey." A voice behind me.

I turned. Marcus. Alone.

"You okay, man? You've been acting different."

I looked at my friend, then at the dog, then back at him. "Yeah. Just... overthinking everything. You know how it gets."

"Same." Marcus sat in the grass beside me. "Everyone's kinda going through it. Freshman year was supposed to be this whole thing, and then it's just... school and more school and trying to figure out who you're supposed to be."

The dog curled up between us. I wiped my palm on my jeans. Marcus noticed.

"Nervous hands?" he asked, grinning.

"Whatever." I shoved him.

"Wanna join? We need an outfielder. Jacob can't catch for crap."

I looked at the baseball field, at the sky turning pink-gold behind the trees. This summer wasn't turning out like I'd planned. But maybe that was okay. Some of the best moments were the ones you didn't see coming.

"Yeah," I said. "Yeah, I'm in."

My palm was still sweating. But for the first time in weeks, I didn't wipe it off.