Swipe Left on the Bull

Maya's iphone buzzed with the notification she'd been waiting for all week. Padel tryouts. Her fingers hovered over the screen—this was it, her shot at finally being part of something at Northwood High.

"You're doing that thing where you forget to blink," said Leo, her older brother, leaning against the doorframe. He held their cat, Mango, like a furry baby. "Also, Mom wants you to eat breakfast. She made that papaya stuff again."

Maya groaned. "It's papaya with lime and chili. It's actually good when you don't act like it's radioactive."

"Hard pass. I'll stick to food that doesn't taste like soap." Leo set Mango down, and the cat immediately jumped onto Maya's bed, knocking over her carefully arranged padel gear.

"Seriously?" Maya shoved her phone into her pocket. "I have to leave in ten minutes."

"Nervous?" Leo's smirk faded. "Hey, you've been practicing since last summer. You're ready."

The truth was, Maya wasn't just nervous about tryouts. She was nervous about Jordan—the bull of the courts, as everyone called him. He'd dominated the padel scene since middle school, all confidence and backhand shots that sailed exactly where he wanted them. Last year, when Maya had shown up to watch, he'd laughed at her worn-out racquet.

At the community center, Maya's stomach did backflips. The courts smelled like rubber and old sweat. Jordan was there, of course, stretching near the net like he owned the place. His friends clustered around him, their laughter bouncing off the walls.

Then she saw her: Brianna, the new girl, sitting alone on a bench, tying her shoes with careful precision. Something about her calm presence made Maya's shoulders drop half an inch.

"Want to warm up?" Maya asked, surprised at her own voice.

Brianna's face lit up. "Yes. I'm totally screwing this up."

"Same," Maya admitted. "Let's be nervous together."

They hit the ball back and forth, and something clicked. Brianna had this wicked forehand, and Maya's backhand was on fire. They moved like they'd been playing together for years.

When tryouts started, Jordan paired himself with his usual crew, but the coach mixed everyone up. Maya ended up partnered with—Jordan. Great.

First point, Jordan smashed a ball that should have been impossible to reach. Maya sprinted, dove, and somehow got her racquet under it. The ball sailed back low and fast, catching the tape and dribbling over. Jordan's eyebrows shot up.

"Not bad," he said, actually looking at her for the first time.

"Not bad?" Maya grinned, adrenaline flooding her veins. "That was insane and you know it."

By the end of tryouts, Maya and Jordan had won three straight games. But when the coach posted the team list, Maya's name wasn't next to Jordan's. It was next to Brianna's.

"Coach's call," Jordan shrugged, but he nodded at Maya. "See you at practice."

Walking home, Maya's phone buzzed. Brianna had sent a meme: two cats high-fiving, captioned "WE MADE IT."

Maya smiled so hard her face hurt. Sometimes the things you thought would break you turned out to be exactly what you needed to find your people.