The Orange-Stained Hat

Marcus yanked the orange hat lower on his forehead—his brother's old fitted cap, bleached by the sun into this weird peach color Marcus tried convincing himself was actually aesthetic. The crown had these mysterious stains from years of sweat and Gatorade explosions. Perfect. Exactly the vibe he wanted for baseball tryouts.

"You shaking?" Chloe called from the dugout bench. She was the only other freshman with the audacity to show up fifteen minutes early. Already stretching like she'd been doing this since birth.

Marcus reached into his pocket and fished out a vitamin C chewable. His mom swore these boosted immunity during stressful situations. He figured he needed all the immunity he could get when seniors like Kyle Reynolds were roaming the field.

Coach Miller's whistle cut through the morning. "Listen up! Equipment pyramid in the dugout, now. We organize our gear the same way we organize our game—from the foundation up. Novices at the bottom, experienced players supporting from above."

Great. A literal hierarchy test. Marcus grabbed a bat and headed toward the dugout.

Kyle brushed past him—shoulder-check, actually. The guy had hit three home runs last season and walked around like his confidence was a cologne he'd over-applied.

"Nice hat, rookie," Kyle said, loud enough for everyone to hear. "Did you get that from a lost and found? In 2019?"

A couple juniors snickered.

Marcus's face heated up as he slotted the bat at the pyramid's base, careful, precise. His hands were literally sweating.

Then came the hitting drills.

Marcus's first swing was tragic. A gentle breeze could've made better contact with the ball.

Second swing: foul tip.

Third—he connected. Not a home run, not even close. But solid. A clean line drive to left field that actually made a satisfying *crack* sound.

"Not terrible," Kyle admitted later, nodding with something resembling approval.

Marcus exhaled. The stupid peach-colored hat stayed on.

Afterward, Chloe found him collapsed against the backstop, chugging water. "You held the pyramid together. That's literally something."

"Guess so." Marcus smiled, wiping sweat from his forehead. "Maybe next year I'll aim for the top layer."

"Or maybe you'll just be the guy who keeps it standing," she said. "Sometimes that's harder than being at the top."

Marcus tipped the orange-stained hat toward her.

Yeah. He could work with that.