The Cap That Saved Me

Marcus pulled the vintage Dodgers cap down lower, trying to disappear into the fabric of the rocking chair on his aunt's porch. This was supposed to be a "low-key hangout" but somehow it had morphed into a full-blown rager, and he was severely not built for this.

"Yo, Marcus! You gonna sit there all night looking like you're mourning your pet goldfish?" That was Jayden, varsity baseball captain, currently holding court by the cooler like he owned the place. Marcus adjusted the brim of the hat—his grandfather's, actually, from back when he actually played in the minors. It smelled like old leather and memories Marcus barely remembered.

"I'm good," Marcus managed, but his voice cracked like he was still going through puberty at seventeen instead of already having survived it.

Suddenly, a blur of fur came BOLTING through the sliding glass doors. Mrs. Higgins' prize-winning poodle, escaped from the backyard, was now doing laps around the keg like it was chasing invisible bases. The dog vaulted over a freshman, skidded across the spilled beer on the linoleum, and made a beeline straight for Marcus.

"DOWN!" Marcus commanded, because apparently he spoke dog now.

The poodle—Buster, according to the red tag on its collar—chose that exact moment to mistakes Marcus's grandfather's hat for a frisbee. JUMP. SNAP. The vintage Dodgers cap was airborne.

"DUDE." Jayden was suddenly there, laughing so hard he had to brace himself on the railing. "That's literally the most hype thing I've ever seen. Your hat just got stolen by a ten-pound ball of fluff."

Marcus's face burned. But then—Jayden reached down, grabbed a handful of cheese puffs from a nearby bowl, and started luring the dog like it was some kind of tactical operation. "Buster! Come get these delicious processed cheese products, you absolute legend."

The dog returned the hat. Jayden dusted it off and handed it back, their fingers brushing for a second too long. "So," Jayden said, dropping his voice, "you ever talk about why you're always wearing this vintage masterpiece? My dad's got this whole baseball card collection from the nineties, and I feel like you'd appreciate the autism of it all."

Marcus grinned despite himself. "Autism?"

"You know what I mean," Jayden said, nudging his shoulder. "The obsession. The dedication. The vibe."

Maybe parties weren't so terrible after all. Or maybe it was just the cheese puffs. Marcus pulled the hat back on, tilting it slightly higher this time.