The Dugout Water Boy

Marcus stared at the neon orange Gatorade tub like it held the secrets to the entire universe. Freshman year. Tryouts. And somehow he'd been relegated to water boy duty while the upperclassmen took batting practice.

"Hey rookie, more water over here!" Jake, the varsity shortstop, yelled without even looking up from his swing.

Marcus grabbed the plastic pitcher, his palms sweating. This wasn't how it was supposed to go. He'd been playing baseball since he was six, had the swing, had the arm. But nobody knew that because he'd transferred districts and now he was just the new kid hauling refreshment coolers.

He made his way to the dugout, dodging bats and gear bags. Someone had left a bottle of gummy vitamins spilled on the bench—those fancy performance supplements that Marcus's mom said were a waste of money. He swept them into his pocket while everyone was looking at the field.

"You play?" It was Chloe, the team manager, sitting on the bench with a clipboard. She was looking at him, really looking at him.

"Used to," Marcus shrugged. "Back at my old school."

"Why don't you try out next week? There's an open spot on JV."

Before Marcus could answer, Jake stumbled back to the dugout, looking green. "Yo, who's got Advil? My head's killing me."

The dugout went silent. Jake NEVER showed weakness.

Marcus reached into his pocket and pulled out the vitamins he'd found. "Got these? They're supposed to help with... stuff?"

Jake stared at him, then at the vitamins, and suddenly cracked up. "Dude, those are my grandma's vitamins. I've been looking everywhere."

The tension broke. Everyone was laughing, even Jake. And somehow, in that moment, Marcus wasn't the water boy anymore. He was part of something.

"Hey," Jake said, still grinning. "You should grab a bat after practice. Let's see what you got."

Marcus nodded, feeling something shift inside his chest. Maybe this year wouldn't be so bad after all.