The Art of Drowning Perfectly

Marcus stood at the pitcher's mound, the baseball feeling like a grenade in his sweaty palm. The whole team was watching, probably wondering why their star player was suddenly shaking like a chihuahua in a refrigerator. His phone had buzzed earlier— scouts from USC were coming to next week's game. No pressure, right.

After practice, he bolted before Coach could give him another pep talk about "trusting his stuff." He grabbed Chewy, his ancient golden retriever who'd been his emotional support since the divorce, and headed to the creek trail. Running was the only thing that shut off the noise in his head.

The sun beat down as Marcus's Nikes pounded the dirt path, Chewy lumbering beside him, tongue flapping like a ridiculous pink flag. Marcus's mom was obsessed with him taking these vitamin D gummies because "growing athletes need their nutrients" and whatever, but honestly? He just chewed them when he was anxious. Which was constantly.

Chewy suddenly bolted toward the creek, barking at something in the water. A turtle? No—a baby deer was trapped in the mud, struggling. Without thinking, Marcus waded in, water soaking his expensive baseball practice gear. The deer kicked, terrified.

"Hey, hey, I got you," Marcus murmured, sounding like those calming videos his mom made him watch. He grabbed it by the scruff, mud sucking at his legs like quicksand. For a second, they were both going down—then with one heave, he dragged the fawn onto dry land.

It scrambled away, and Chewy chased it happily before Marcus called him back. Standing there, covered in mud, water dripping from his eyelashes, Marcus started laughing. He'd literally just ruined his gear, was probably late for dinner, and had almost drowned in two feet of water.

But for the first time in weeks, he wasn't thinking about baseball. About USC. About whether he was good enough.

He reached into his sweaty pocket, pulled out a squashed vitamin gummy, and chewed it slowly. Chewy shook water all over him, spraying mud everywhere.

"Thanks, buddy," Marcus said, grinning. "Vitamin Mud. Definitely what the nutritionist ordered."

Whatever happened next week with the scouts, at least he knew how to save a drowning deer. That had to count for something.