The Crack in the Armor

Marcus's palms were sweating so bad he could barely grip his iPhone. Across the cafeteria, Sarah laughed at something Jake said — Jake, who'd started varsity at shortstop as a sophomore. Jake, whose batting average was literally .423.

"Dude, you good?" Ty slid into the seat opposite him, crunching on a gummy vitamin like it was candy. "You look like you're about to puke."

"I'm fine," Marcus lied, checking his phone again. Still no text. He'd messaged Sarah three hours ago: 'baseball game Friday? gonna be lit'

What if she thought baseball was boring? What if she'd already said yes to Jake? Marcus's stomach did something awful and sudden.

His mom's voice echoed in his head: 'Did you take your vitamin D? Dr. Patel said you're deficient.' He'd forgotten again. He was always forgetting — to take vitamins, to study for Spanish, to be the kind of guy Sarah would notice.

The truth was, Marcus loved baseball. He lived for the crack of the bat, the dirt stains on his pants, the way the world made sense when he was on the field. But Sarah didn't know that. She'd transferred in last month, and somewhere along the way, Marcus had accidentally let her think he was 'more of an academic type.' Because Jake was the baseball guy, and Marcus was... Marcus.

His iPhone buzzed.

'Sure! sounds fun (:'

Marcus stared at the screen. She'd said yes. She actually wanted to come to his game.

"You going to tell me what's up, or...?" Ty asked, already knowing the answer.

Marcus grinned, something bright and unfamiliar spreading through his chest. "Sarah's coming Friday. To watch me play."

"Finally." Ty rolled his eyes. "Maybe now you'll stop being weird about it. Also, drink some milk or something. You look pale."

Marcus laughed — really laughed — for the first time all week. Friday couldn't come fast enough. He'd take his vitamins. He'd crush it at baseball. And he'd text Sarah back right now, just because he could.