The Orange Padel Phantom

Maya's freshmen year existed at the bottom of the social pyramid—invisible, quiet, basicallynpc energy. But today marked change. Today she'd joined the padel club because Tyler ( sophomore, perfectly messy hair, smiled at her that one time) played there.

The hat stayed pulled low. Her security blanket, her identity cloaking device. Beanies were basically a personality at this point.

"You gonna hit or just vibe?" Tyler called from across the court. He was grinning. Maya's stomach did that embarrassing flip thing.

"Hit," she managed.

Her first swing whiffed so dramatically she almost faceplanted. The entire club erupted. Maya felt her face burning—that specific shade of mortification that probably looked neon.

"My bad," someone yelled. "Wrong court."

The orange ball had bounced off the fence and nailed Tyler in the back of the head. He turned, rubbing his skull, and locked eyes with Maya.

She died. She literally died and was now a ghost haunting the padel courts forever.

But then Tyler started laughing. Not mean laughing—genuine, doubled-over, can't-breathe laughing.

"Yo, you trying to assassinate me?" He jogged over. "That's honestly a skill."

"I—my aim is tragic," Maya said.

"Nah, it's legendary." Tyler's eyes crinkled. "Wanna team up and terrorize everyone else? I call myself The Hazard."

"I'm... The Phantom."

"Perfect." He bumped her fist. "Also your hat is sick."

Later that night Maya FaceTimed her best friend while bleaching her hair orange. "Today was iconic," she said, watching the color transform in the mirror. "Bottom of the pyramid my ass."

The Phantom had arrived. And she'd brought her racket.