The Last Out

Marcus stood at the edge of the community pool, chlorine stinging his nose, his baseball uniform sticking to his skin like a second layer he couldn't peel off. Summer league had ended two hours ago, and his batting average had dropped to .212. Coach said he needed more confidence at the plate. Marcus's dad said he needed more focus. What Marcus actually needed was for his phone to stop buzzing with the group chat blowing up about whether Jenna had actually looked at him during seventh period or if that was just his imagination working overtime again.

"You gonna stare at the water all day, or are you gonna jump?" Maya called from the deep end, splashing water in his direction. Her purple swimsuit was bright against the blue of the pool, and she was grinning like she knew something he didn't. Which, honestly, was probably true. Maya always knew everything before anyone else did.

Marcus stepped back from the edge. "Can't. Dad's got me on that strict summer training regimen. Says if I want varsity next year, I need zero distractions."

"Zero distractions?" Maya rolled her eyes so hard he could practically see her brain doing a full rotation. "Marcus, you're fifteen. You're supposed to be having fun, not turning into some baseball robot.

He almost laughed. If only she knew—robot would be an upgrade. More like a zombie, honestly. Wake up, eat breakfast, practice swings, school, practice, homework, sleep, repeat. Some days he felt like he was moving through life underwater, which was ironic considering how rarely he actually got to swim anymore.

The real problem wasn't baseball though. It was that thing that had happened last Friday at Tyler's party, when he'd spent forty-five minutes working up the courage to talk to Jenna, only to blank completely and accidentally tell her that her shoes looked "very functional." She'd looked at him like he'd grown a second head, and he'd wanted to dissolve into the carpet right there.

"Whatever," Maya said, paddling to the edge. "But you know what they say about all work and no play."

"Yeah? What?"

She pulled herself halfway out of the pool, water dripping from her elbows. "Makes you boring as dirt. Also, Jenna was totally asking about you earlier."

Marcus's stomach did that thing it always did when someone mentioned Jenna—like a fish flopping around inside him. "Yeah right."

"Scouts honor. She asked if you were coming to Ty's tonight. Said something about a zombie marathon on Netflix and extra pizza." Maya paused. "So the real question is: are you gonna stand here in your dirt-covered uniform, or are you gonna actually live a little?"

Marcus looked at his phone—no new messages from Dad yet—and then back at the pool, where Maya was already making giant splashes. Baseball would still be there tomorrow. The varsity team would still be there next year. But moments like this? The kind that actually mattered? Those were the ones you couldn't take back.

He kicked off his cleats.

"Marcus Rodriguez, are you actually—" Maya started, but she didn't finish because Marcus was already jumping, a perfect cannonball that sent water everywhere and felt exactly like freedom.