The Bull in the Dugout

Maya's hair looked like a bird's nest after softball practice, but she didn't care. She had bigger problems—like the spinach stuck between her teeth from the smoothie her mom swore would help her "grow strong." Gross.

"Hey Spinach Breath," sneered Tyler, the biggest jerk on the baseball team. "Thought I smelled something weird."

Maya's face burned. This was it—the moment everyone would realize she didn't belong here. She'd only tried out for the team because her crush, Sam, played second base. Now she was trapped in the dugout with literal spinach in her teeth and no mirror in sight.

"Leave her alone, Tyler," Sam said, sliding onto the bench beside her. His baseball uniform was impossibly clean, unlike Maya's grass-stained knees. "Actually, I like spinach. It's... distinct."

He winked at her. Her stomach did that thing where it forgot how to be a stomach.

"Whatever," Tyler muttered, grabbing his bat. "Coach says bull pen session in five. Don't be late, new girl."

The BULL pen? Wait—the actual bull pen? Where the school's agricultural program kept their prize-winning show cattle? Nobody had mentioned THAT part of tryouts.

Maya's hands shook as she attempted to fix her hair in her phone's camera reflection. A huge piece of green spinach smiled back at her from her front tooth.

"You got something..." Sam reached out like he was going to help, then stopped. "Actually, you know what? It's kind of perfect. Shows you're not taking yourself too seriously."

Maya laughed, actually laughed, and used her tongue to finally dislodge the spinach.

"So," she said, "about this bull situation..."

Sam grinned. "Yeah, the team helps out with the ag program. We feed them, clean stalls, stuff like that. It's weird, but... kind of cool? You'll see."

He stood up and extended his hand. "Coming, Spinach Breath?"

"Coming," she said, and for the first time all day, her smile wasn't nervous at all.

Her hair was still a mess. She still had spinach breath. But somehow, none of that mattered anymore.