The Boy Who Threw Like Gravity

Marcus stood at the edge of the pool, clutching the tiny plastic bag containing his new goldfish. Its name was Spud, because that's what his little sister had called it before losing interest in approximately three seconds. The bag was sweating against his palm, and somewhere in the back of his mind he wondered if goldfish could feel claustrophobic.

"Hey! Nice fish!"

Marcus jumped, nearly dropping Spud into the deep end.

Lena Harper was standing there, baseball gear slung over her shoulder like she owned the entire world. Her hair was still damp from swim practice, somehow perfect anyway. Behind her, the varsity baseball team was loud and awful, taking over the pool area like they'd personally invented chlorine.

"Thanks," Marcus managed. "My sister won it. She's seven."

"Cool." Lena adjusted her bag. "You're Marcus, right? From English?"

His heart did something embarrassing. "Yeah. You're Lena. From everywhere."

She laughed, and it was the worst and best thing that had ever happened to him.

The baseball players started horsing around near the diving board. Water sprayed everywhere. Some guy named Kyle—university polo shirt, confidence that definitely wasn't earned—shoved another kid toward the pool.

"What are they even doing here?" Marcus asked, trying to sound casual and not like his stomach had folded itself into origami.

"Coach is making us do cross-training. Something about stamina." Lena rolled her eyes. "I mean, baseball's already basically standing around waiting for something to happen. How much more stamina do we need?"

Marcus laughed before he could stop himself.

"You're funny," she said.

And then Kyle was shouting, doing something with a baseball that definitely violated at least three pool rules. The ball arced through the humid summer air, heading straight for Spud's bag.

Marcus started running—he didn't think, just moved—lunging for the plastic bag as the baseball splashed into the water exactly where he'd been standing. He caught Spud, somehow, momentum carrying him into a stumble that ended with him half-falling into Lena's waiting arms.

She steadied him, hands on his shoulders. "Whoa. Nice save."

His face was on fire. The baseball team was losing it. Kyle was yelling something about how Marcus should join the team since he could actually catch.

"You good?" Lena asked, and she wasn't laughing, not really. Her eyes were serious.

"Yeah," Marcus said, standing up straighter. Spud's bag was still clutched against his chest, the fish swimming in tiny, confused circles. "Just. You know. Protecting the fish."

"Goldfish need guarding," she agreed solemnly.

"They really do."

"Hey," she said, shouldering her baseball gear again. "You wanna hang out after practice? We could get Spud a real bowl. Something that doesn't look like a temporary prison for innocent aquatic life."

Marcus looked at her, then at the jerks by the diving board, then at Spud, who was definitely judging him for taking this long to answer.

"Yeah," he said. "I'd like that."

"Cool." She grinned. "Try not to rescue any more fish before then, okay? My shift's gonna be boring if you're not here to almost drown for a cause."

Marcus watched her walk away toward the locker rooms, clutching his fish like it was the most important thing in the world. Which, for today at least, it kind of was.

Spud swam in a small circle, entirely unimpressed with teenage romance.