The Green Between My Teeth

The baseball dugout smelled like—well, like teenager, locker room, and that distinct metallic tang that follows you everywhere during softball season. I checked my phone again. No message from Skylar since Thursday.

"You're spiraling, Mars," said Keisha, slapping a **vitamin** gummy into my palm. "Take this. It's for stress. Or whatever you're doing with your face right now."

"I'm not spiraling," I lied. "I'm processing."

"You asked Skylar to hang out three days ago and they haven't replied. That's not processing. That's, like, emotional purgatory."

I sighed, staring at the gummy. It was shaped like a bear. A bear that knew my romantic life was a cosmic joke.

Coach Martinez blew her whistle. "Marshall! You're up!"

I stepped to the plate, heart hammering against my ribs like it wanted to escape my body and start a new life somewhere without high school. The pitcher wound up—and I swung at nothing but air.

"Strike!" the umpire yelled.

Third out. Inning over. I trudged back to the dugout while my teammates exchanged looks that said it all: we love you, but also, yikes.

Then Skylar walked past the bleachers. They were wearing that oversized hoodie I'd mentally complimented approximately four hundred times. Our eyes met.

I smiled. Big. Warm. Desperate.

"Hey!" I called out. "You came!"

"Yeah," they said, grinning. "Sorry I didn't text, my phone died. But I wanted to catch your game."

Wait. Their phone DIED? That was—that was actually a thing that happened? That wasn't some elaborate excuse?

"That's so valid," I managed, trying to play it cool while my stomach did full gymnastics routines. "I'm glad you're here."

"You too." They tilted their head, still smiling. "You've got a little something—"

Keisha appeared beside me, her eyes wide. "Marshall, please tell me you didn't eat the **spinach** wrap at lunch."

I froze. The **spinach** wrap. The one with the aggressively green pesto sauce that refused to be fully chewed.

"There's spinach in your teeth," Skylar said, like it was the most normal thing in the world. "Just, like, right in the front."

My face burned with the heat of a thousand suns.

"I got you," Keisha said, handing me a compact mirror she apparently carried everywhere, like a mom friend from the future. "Fix it. I'll keep Skylar company."

I stared at my reflection. A tiny green warrior was stationed between my front teeth, defending my dignity with zero success. I picked it out with my fingernail while silently vibrating with embarrassment.

When I looked up, Skylar and Keisha were laughing about something. Not at me—with each other, but comfortably.

"So," Skylar said, turning back to me as I approached. "Since I came all this way to watch you strike out—"

"Hey, I struck out with dignity."

"—you want to grab food after this? There's that boba place downtown."

"Yes," I said. "A thousand times yes."

Keisha mouthed YOU'RE WELCOME behind Skylar's back.

As I walked back to the field, I caught Skylar's eye again. They waved. A small, genuine wave that somehow made everything—the strikeouts, the spinach, the spiraling—feel like part of a bigger story. One where maybe, just maybe, I was going to be okay.

I wiped my sweaty **palm** on my uniform pants and stepped into the batter's box again.

This time, I was ready.