The Bullpen Truth

Marcus stood alone in the bullpen, baseball cap pulled low, rehearsing his apology for the third time. The varsity team's biggest game of the season had ended in disaster, and now he had to face his dad—the man who'd coached him since tee-ball, whose disappointed face Marcus had been dodging for three days.

But the bullpen wasn't empty. Sasha was there, sitting on the bench, scrolling through her phone like she owned the place. Sasha, with her perfect grades and varsity jacket, who'd barely said two words to him until last week's chemistry lab disaster.

"Rough game?" she asked, not looking up.

"Whatever." Marcus leaned against the chain-link fence. "Like you care."

"I care that you missed that pop fly in the seventh. I was watching."

He flushed. "You don't know bull about baseball."

Sasha finally looked up, deadpan. "I know you were distracted. By the dog running onto the field."

"That was a service dog, actually. "

"And I know why you were really off your game." She stood up, walked toward him. "Your dad's bear of a boss showed up, didn't he? The one who threatened to transfer him if he didn't work weekends anymore?"

Marcus froze. "How'd you—"

"Small town, Marcus. Word gets around." She hesitated. "My uncle works at your dad's company. Said your dad stood up to the guy. Said he chose your game over some bullshit corporate power move."

The weight on Marcus's chest shifted, suddenly lighter. All this time, he'd thought his dad was disappointed in him. But his dad had chosen him.

"Seriously?"

""Yeah. Your dad's kind of a legend today." Sasha's phone buzzed. She glanced at it, then back at him. "Anyway. Just thought you should know."

She started to walk away, then turned back. "You okay, though? About the game?"

Marcus thought about it. The weird tension in his shoulders released. "Yeah. Actually, I think I'm good."

"Cool." She smirked. "See you in chem lab, MVP."

Marcus watched her go, then pulled out his phone to text his dad. No apology needed. Just three words: Thanks for showing up.

Behind him, the field lights flickered on, casting long shadows across the diamond. Tomorrow, they'd lose the championship. Tonight, he'd won something bigger.