The Dog That Stole My Strikeout

My fingers were shaking so bad I almost dropped my iphone while typing the text. Three little bubbles appeared on Maya's screen—the typing indicator that was currently ruining my entire life.

Practice wasn't for another hour, but here I was, sitting on the baseball bleachers like my whole world depended on Maya's response. The team jogged past, Coach Martinez shouting something about "running those bases like you mean it." I barely looked up.

"You okay, kid?" That was Sam, the third baseman who'd accidentally sent me to the emergency room with a line drive last season. He sat next to me, his uniform already stained with red dirt.

"Fine," I mumbled, thumbs hovering over my screen. The notification dinged. My heart did this weird flop thing.

Maya: i cant make it 2nite

"You're not fine," Sam said. "You look like someone stole your dog."

Before I could respond, something came sprinting out of the parking lot. A dog—a ridiculously fluffy golden retriever—grabbed my iphone right out of my hands and took off toward the field.

"HEY!" I was running before I even processed it, Sam laughing as he chased after me. The dog bolted across the pitcher's mound with my phone like it was some prize. The whole team stopped practicing. Coach Martinez blew his whistle so hard I thought he'd pass out.

The dog stopped at second base, dropped my phone, and sat proudly like it had just won the World Series.

I skidded to a halt, chest heaving, and grabbed my phone. Three new notifications. One from Mom. Two from Maya.

maya: wait i can come actually

maya: r u still @ the field???

The dog—whose collar read "Buster"—chose that moment to lick my face. Sam was doubled over laughing. Coach was shouting something about practice being officially a circus.

I wiped dog slobber off my cheek and typed back: ye im here. bring snacks.

Sam slapped my back. "See? Sometimes the universe steals your phone just to fix your life."

I looked down at my screen, then at Buster, who was now being petted by the entire team like he was some kind of hero. Maybe Sam was right. Some strikeouts are actually home runs in disguise.