The Bear in the Dugout

Jordan's cleats clicked against the concrete as he slumped into the dugout, sixth inning of the worst baseball game of his life. Coach Miller had benched him after two strikeouts—a new personal low.

"You good, bro?" Marcus asked, dropping beside him. Marcus, his ride-or-die since third grade, the friend who'd covered for him when he ghosted that party last month. But Jordan caught him wincing.

"Yeah. Just"—Jordan gestured at the field—"you know."

"Your dad's gonna lose it," Marcus said quietly.

That hit different. Jordan's dad lived for baseball. Gave him his old glove. Coached his teams since T-ball. The whole deal.

Then Marcus pulled up his sleeve, revealing fresh ink on his forearm: a bear, mid-roar. Black lines still healing, skin angry-red around it.

"What the actual—"

"My spirit animal," Marcus said, dead serious, then cracked up. "Nah, I was high and it seemed sick. Don't tell your mom."

Jordan stared at it. A bear. This fierce, clawed-out thing Marcus had permanently etched into his skin like it was nothing, while Jordan was scared to tell his dad he hated baseball. Hated the pressure. Hated that everyone expected him to care about something that felt like wearing someone else's shoes.

"My dad thinks I'm gonna play college," Jordan said, the words tumbling out. "I don't even want to play next season."

Marcus went still. The outfielder caught a fly ball. Someone cheered. The sun beat down on the back of Jordan's neck.

"So quit," Marcus said, like it was simple.

"You think I can just—"

"Bro, I got a bear tattooed on my arm while listening to 'Call Me Maybe.' You can quit baseball."

Jordan started laughing, couldn't stop. Marcus joined in, clutching his ribs. They were both losing it, tears streaming down, right there in the dugout while the game continued without them.

"I'm telling him after the game," Jordan said when he could breathe again.

"Bet," Marcus said, bumping his shoulder. "And if he doesn't get it?"

Jordan looked at the bear on his friend's arm—this permanent, ridiculous, perfect choice.

"Then we figure it out."