The Hat Trick

I was definitely not the kind of kid who wore hats. Or played sports. Or did anything that required leaving my house before noon on a Saturday.

So when Leo, my oldest friend in the world, dropped his dad's vintage **baseball** cap on my head and said "keep it, it looks better on you anyway," I should've given it back. I should've laughed it off. But I didn't.

The thing was, Leo was moving away at the end of the summer, and something about accepting his hat felt like accepting a piece of him I could keep. Not that I'd ever tell him that — he'd literally never let me live it down.

Two weeks later, Maya noticed.

We were at the park, sitting on the swings like literal children even though we were supposed to be too cool for that now. She was kicking her legs against the dirt, watching me out of the corner of her eye.

"You've been wearing that hat every day," she said, casual but definitely not casual. "Since when do you do accessories?"

I shrugged, feeling my face get hot. "Since Leo gave it to me. It's... I don't know. Comfortable, I guess."

Maya raised one perfect eyebrow. "Comfortable. Right. That's definitely why you haven't taken it off in fourteen days straight."

She hopped off her swing and started **running** toward the old baseball field behind the park.

"Hey!" I yelled, scrambling to follow. "Maya, what are you doing?"

"Race you there!" she called back, already yards ahead, her hair streaming behind her like she was in a commercial.

I wasn't a runner. I was the kid who sat in the back of the classroom and read during lunch. But I found myself sprinting after her anyway, my lungs already burning, Leo's hat somehow staying perfectly on my head.

We reached the outfield at the same time, both of us gasping and laughing and kind of falling onto the grass together. The sun was setting behind the backstop, turning everything gold and hazy, and Maya rolled onto her side to look at me.

"You kept up," she said, sounding weirdly impressed.

"Barely," I admitted, still trying to catch my breath.

She reached out and tugged the brim of the hat, adjusting it so it sat straight on my head for once. Her fingers lingered for a second, just barely brushing my forehead, and my entire body felt like it had been plugged into an electrical socket.

"It really does look good on you," she said softly.

I looked at her, really looked at her, and realized something that had been building for months. Something huge and terrifying and wonderful.

The hat wasn't about Leo at all.

"Yeah?" I whispered.

Maya smiled, and it was the realest thing I'd ever seen. "Yeah. You should wear it more often."

I think I fell in love with her right there, lying in the outfield grass with **baseball** dust in my hair and my best friend's **hat** on my head, completely out of breath from **running** after someone who'd already caught me without even trying.

I'd never tell Leo that, though. Some things were worth keeping to yourself.