The Art of Losing Gracefully

Maya's mom had started her on a new vitamin regimen that morning, claiming it would help with "focus and energy." Whatever. The only thing Maya needed focus for was not embarrassing herself at the championship padel match against Crestwood Academy.

"You've got this, Maya," Leo said, bumping her shoulder with his. He was wearing those ridiculous knee socks again, but somehow he made them work.

The opposing team walked onto the court, and there he was — Caleb, the fox-eyed senior who'd ghosted Maya after three weeks of talking stage. Classic. He winked at her across the net, and she felt her face do that thing where it betrayed her entire emotional state.

"You good?" Leo whispered.

"Peachy." Maya adjusted her grip on the racket.

The game was brutal. Every time Maya missed a shot, she felt like she was drowning in slow motion. But here's the thing about Leo — the boy was absolute chaos on the court, diving for balls like his life depended on it, grinning like a golden retriever even when he face-planted. Which he did. Twice.

They were down 14-16. Match point for Crestwood. Caleb served, and somehow — Maya still doesn't know how — she returned it. The ball hit the metal fence at exactly the wrong angle and bounced back, catching Caleb completely off guard. Point recovered.

"Did you see that?!" Leo yelled, chest-bumping her so hard she nearly toppled over.

They won the next three points. The comeback of the century. Afterward, Leo's dog, Barnaby, escaped his leash and bolted across the courts, with both of them chasing him like maniacs until Leo tackled him into the grass.

"You're insane," Maya said, lying next to him in the grass, both of them covered in dog hair and dirt.

"Takes one to know one." He held up his hand for a high-five. "We absolutely bull-rushed that game."

She laughed, really laughed, for the first time in weeks. The vitamins probably had nothing to do with it, but for once, she actually felt okay.