The Bear in the Padel Court

My social life was basically a pyramid scheme where I was at the bottom holding everyone else up. That's why I was hiding in the bathroom during lunch again, doomscrolling through my iPhone until my eyes burned.

"You coming out?" Leo's voice carried through the door. "Coach is making us play padel today. You know, that tennis-squash hybrid thing?"

I groaned. Padel was what the cool kids played at the country club. I was about as coordinated as a baby giraffe on ice.

When I finally emerged, I found out why the whole school was whispering in the hallway. Someone in a bear mascot costume—the actual Riverside High Bear—had walked onto the padel court during third period and absolutely destroyed the varsity captain in a pickup game. Now #BearBoy was trending on TikTok.

"Dude, that was legendary," Leo said, showing me the video on his iPhone. "Whoever that was has hands."

I froze mid-step. I knew those moves. That crossover step to the left. The way they adjusted the mascot head with their racket hand.

Oh no. Oh HELL no.

"You good?" Leo asked.

"Yeah," I managed, my face heating up. "Just... impressed."

My older brother Marcus had borrowed the bear costume for his "marketing project." The same brother who made me play padel with him every weekend because his "best friend" bailed constantly.

The pyramid of high school social hierarchy had just inverted, and somehow my family was at the center of it. I pulled out my iPhone and texted Marcus: You're literally famous and you don't even know.

His response came instantly: lol cool. Can you pick up padel gear on your way home? We're playing tomorrow.

I sighed. Some things never changed. But watching the bear spin around on screen, hitting that impossible winner, I felt something weird. Like maybe I wasn't stuck at the bottom of the pyramid forever. Maybe next time, I'd be the one making people whisper in the hallways.

"Hey Leo," I said, heading toward the exit. "Teach me that backhand."