The Backhand Bet

The neon sign flashed CLUB PADEL behind me, but I couldn't turn back now. Maya stood at the net, adjusting her ponytail with that casual confidence I'd been trying to fake since seventh grade.

"You coming or what?" she called. Her hairband matched her wristband—of course it did.

I gripped the racquet like it might save me from drowning. This was supposed to be Jacob's thing. Jacob, whose idea of friendship was bailing thirty minutes before tryouts because he "forgot" he'd promised to help his sister move. Or whatever.

"Yeah," I said. "Totally ready."

My voice cracked. Smooth.

The first serve sailed past me, hit the fence with a sad thwack. Maya didn't laugh, but the guy picking up balls behind her definitely did. I felt it in my chest—the specific warmth that comes from humiliating yourself in front of the one person whose opinion you actually care about.

"Your grip's too tight," she said, walking over. "Here."

She adjusted my fingers, and suddenly I was hyperaware of everything. The squeak of sneakers on court. The humidity sticking my shirt to my back. The way her bracelet caught the light when she stepped back.

"Better?" she asked.

"Much," I lied.

We rallied. I missed. She corrected. I missed again. She kept trying. After twenty minutes, my arms were Jell-O but something shifted—I actually returned two balls in a row. Maya smiled, really smiled, and I forgot about Jacob entirely. Almost.

Walking home, I heard it first. A low, miserable sound from behind the dumpster behind the bodega.

"Hello?" I called. Stupid. What did I expect?

A scraggly cat limped out, orange fur matted with something I didn't want to identify. It looked at me with eyes that said, I know. I know you failed. I know she was just being nice.

I crouched down. "Hey, little guy."

He—butted his head against my sneaker. Purred like a tiny motor that might stall any second.

"Yeah," I said, scratching behind his ears. "Me too."

My phone buzzed. Unknown number: *Hey, this is Maya from padel. You actually showed promise today. Same time tomorrow?*

The cat nudged my hand, demanding attention. I thought about Jacob waiting for me at his place, probably playing FIFA instead of helping his sister. I thought about Maya's genuine smile when I finally got my form right.

I texted back: *See you there.*

The cat purred harder. I might've found a new routine, after all.