The Hat Trick

Jordan's adidas hat was two years old, slightly stained, and absolutely not something anyone would wear to tryouts for the varsity padel team. But it was lucky, or at least that's what Jordan told themselves while standing outside the community center, heart doing somersaults.

"You good?" Maya asked, spinning her padel racquet like she owned the place. Of course she owned it. Maya was the one who'd talked Jordan into this in the first place, back when they were eating papaya slices at her house after finals week. "You're not gonna die, J. It's just tryouts."

"Easy for you to say," Jordan muttered, adjusting the hat's brim. "You've been playing since freshman year. I'm out here looking like a baby deer on ice."

Maya laughed, but it was the nice kind. The friend kind. "Bro, you've got a wicked backhand. We've been playing together all summer. Remember when you absolutely destroyed me at the court last Tuesday?"

"That was beginners' luck," Jordan said, even though they both knew it wasn't.

The truth was, Jordan had been hiding their natural talent for months, scared that being good at padel would somehow change everything. But standing there, with Maya's reassuring presence and the ridiculous lucky hat that had seen them through algebra tests and first dates and that one time they accidentally dyed their hair green, Jordan realized something.

Sometimes growing up meant taking the shot, even when your hands were shaking.

"Alright," Jordan said, taking a deep breath. "Let's do this."

"That's my best friend," Maya grinned, bumping Jordan's shoulder. "And hey, if you make the team, I'll buy you papaya smoothies for a week."

Jordan smiled, adjusting the hat one more time. "Deal."

The doors opened, and together, they walked in.