The Catcher in the iPhone

Marcus's glove felt heavy as he adjusted his position behind home plate. Baseball practice usually cleared his head, but not today. Not with the text lighting up his iPhone in his back pocket every thirty seconds.

"You good, M?" Maya called from the mound, whipping a fastball that nicked the corner.

"Yeah. Just... stuff." Marcus shoved the phone deeper, ignoring the notification from Tyler. The group chat had been blowing up all morning.

He couldn't stop thinking about last night. How he'd finally worked up the nerve to tell everyone he thought he might be bi. How the silence had stretched for too long before someone changed the subject. How Tyler had messaged him at 2 AM: we need to talk.

Practice ended. Marcus grabbed his gear, trecking toward the old Stevens property behind the field. That's where he went when he needed space. The place was practically a forest now, but Mr. Stevens kept a few animals—a reminder of when this whole area had been farmland.

His dog Buster, a scrappy terrier mix he'd "borrowed" from his cousin's house, came bounding from behind a rusted tractor. "Hey bud." Marcus knelt, letting Buster lick the sweat off his face. "You wouldn't believe it. Everyone's acting weird."

Buster woofed and bolted toward the pasture.

"No! Buster, stop!"

The dog charged straight at the massive bull grazing near the fence. The animal raised its head, huffing.

Marcus sprinted, heart hammering. He vaulted the fence, grabbed Buster's collar, and yanked him back just as the bull snorted and pawed the ground.

His pocket buzzed. Again.

Breathless, Marcus checked his iPhone. Three new messages from Tyler.

dude

seriously

we're cool. my sister's bi. i was just surprised lol. you're still my boy.

Marcus stared at the screen, the world tilting sideways. The bull watched him, then returned to grazing. Buster squirmed in his arms, tail wagging.

He'd spent all day playing spy in his own life, reading into silences that weren't really there. The sabotage, the exclusion—it had all been in his head.

"You're dramatic as hell, M," he muttered to himself, grinning. "Seriously dramatic."

Buster barked like he agreed.