Swiping Through the Strike Zone

The carnival lights flickered against my iPhone screen as I sat on the bench, alone. Again.

"You gonna play or what?" Jake called from the makeshift baseball diamond they'd carved out of the park. He was up to bat, his swing effortless, like he was born holding a Louisville Slugger.

"Maybe later," I mumbled, already knowing I wouldn't. Baseball wasn't exactly my vibe. Neither was sitting alone at a Friday night carnival while everyone else had found their people.

My screen lit up. Chloe posted a photo with her new crew. #squadgoals. Meanwhile, my goldfish–yes, the one I'd won earlier that evening because I threw three darts and still missed everything–swam in its tiny plastic bag on the bench beside me. A literal prisoner of my lack of athletic coordination.

"Hey."

I jumped. Jake had dropped onto the bench next to me, sweat-dampened hair falling over his eyes.

"You're missing your turn," I said.

"Eh." He shrugged, wiping his forehead with his wrist. "Baseball's whatever. You know what's actually kinda based? That you kept the fish."

I stared at him. "What?"

"Everyone else won a goldfish and left it. You're literally sitting here babysitting it." He nodded at the plastic bag. "What's its name?"

"I... haven't named it yet."

"Derek," Jake decided immediately. "He looks like a Derek."

Derek the goldfish swam in lazy circles, completely unaware he'd just been named by the cutest guy in tenth grade.

"Your Insta's private," Jake said suddenly.

"What? No it's not."

"Yeah, it is. I tried to follow you like five times." He held up his own phone. "Was gonna DM you about the algebra homework, but..."

My heart did this absolutely embarrassing little flip. "You could've just asked. In person."

"And seem like I cared too much?" Jake laughed, but his ears were pink. "Please. I have a reputation."

"A baseball player reputation?"

"A don't-care-about-anything reputation. But." His knee pressed against mine, just barely. "Maybe that's kinda... mid?"

I stared at him, then at my phone, where Chloe's #squadgoals photo still glowed. Then at Derek, swimming in circles in his plastic bag, completely fine with being the only fish in his bowl.

"Maybe," I said, "it's time to switch things up."

Jake's smile was slow and real. "Yeah? You gonna play baseball?"

"Absolutely not." I stood up, Derek's bag in hand. "But I will let you teach me how to throw a dart without hitting the wrong target."

He stood too. "Deal. After I name your next fish."

"There won't BE a next fish."

"We'll see." His phone buzzed. He ignored it.

I did the same with mine.

For the first time all night, my screen stayed dark. And the game was just getting started.