The Fox at the Plate

Marcus stood at the plate, sweat trickling down his spine. The varsity baseball team tryouts—his one shot to prove he wasn't just the quiet kid who sat in the back of pre-calc. His iPhone buzzed in his back pocket, probably his group chat roasting each other about who'd choke today. He ignored it. Coach Miller watched from the dugout, arms crossed, clipboard ready like a weapon.

"Batter UP!"

Marcus tightened his grip on the bat. One swing. That's all it would take. He'd spent all winter practicing in his garage, hitting off a tee until his hands bled, watching YouTube videos at 2 AM until his eyes burned. This was it.

The pitch came—fast, outside corner. He checked his swing. Ball one.

Next pitch: too high. Ball two.

Third pitch: RIGHT down the middle. He connected—solid contact, but foul. Straight back, clinking off the metal **cable** that held up the backstop net. The vibration rattled up his arms.

"Come on, Marcus! You got this!" yelled Jenna from behind the fence. His stomach did that stupid flip thing it always did when she looked at him. She'd moved here last year, all confident energy and perfect hair, while he was still figuring out who he even was.

Two strikes now. The entire field seemed to hold its breath.

He remembered last summer, staying at his dad's apartment, watching that **goldfish** swim in endless circles in its bowl. How it would forget it had already been to every side, swimming with purpose toward nothing new. Was he just swimming in circles too? Trying out for teams, taking honors classes, posting curated photos—it all felt like performing for an audience he couldn't see.

"Last chance, kid!"

The pitch came. Time slowed down like in those slow-mo TikTok edits his friends were obsessed with. He didn't think. He just SWUNG.

CRACK.

The ball soared over the right fielder's head, bouncing toward the woods. As Marcus sprinted toward first, something moved at the tree line—a **fox**, all orange flash and wild eyes, watching him like it understood something about choosing your moment, about taking your shot even when everything's on the line.

He rounded second, heart hammering. The fox was gone.

Safe at third. Jenna was cheering. Coach Miller was actually smiling.

Maybe he wasn't swimming in circles after all. Maybe this was just the beginning.