The Padel Court Whisperer

Leo's best friend Amir had a theory: if you wanted to know who was hooking up with whom at Northwood High, you had to position yourself strategically. So here they were, crouched behind the bleachers near the baseball diamond, playing spy like their lives depended on it.

"Dude, your dramatic whispers aren't subtle," Leo muttered, shifting uncomfortably on the splintered wood. "People are gonna think we're creeping."

"That's literally the point," Amir said, tapping his phone. "Information is currency, my friend. And right now, I'm broke."

Leo rolled his eyes but didn't move. The baseball team was warming up, and somewhere across the field, Maya—the girl Leo had been lowkey obsessed with since seventh grade—was supposedly meeting someone behind the new padel courts. The sport had exploded in popularity this year, apparently because tennis wasn't pretentious enough.

"There," Amir hissed, pointing. "Your girl's heading toward the padel courts. And who's that with her?"

Leo squinted. His stomach did that terrible thing it always did when he saw her—like someone had replaced his organs with vibrating marbles. But then he saw who she was with.

"No way," Leo whispered. "That's Justin Chen. The varsity baseball captain? Since when does he even know what padel is?"

"Since approximately five minutes ago when his coach got mad at him for skipping practice again," Amir said, tapping at his screen. "Also, they're holding hands. Just so you know."

Leo felt something heavy settle in his chest. He'd spent months planning the perfect moment to talk to Maya, crafting exactly what to say, and now she was wandering toward the padel courts with the guy who had everything—natural athletic ability, perfect hair, and the kind of confidence that made everyone else feel like they were walking through life with their shoelaces tied together.

"You okay?" Amir asked, his voice actually normal for once.

"Yeah," Leo lied. "It's whatever. I mean, good for them."

But it wasn't whatever, and they both knew it. That was the thing about friendship sometimes—you saw right through each other's BS.

"Wanna go get boba and roast everyone?" Amir offered. "I saw Coach Peters picking his nose earlier. We can start there."

Leo stood up, brushing off his jeans. "Lead the way."

As they walked away from the baseball diamond, leaving behind the spy game and the padel courts and whatever drama was unfolding there, Leo realized something. Maybe he didn't need to be the guy who got the girl. Maybe he just needed to be the guy who had friends who knew when boba was the only solution.

"Hey Amir?"

"Yeah?"

"You're actually the worst, but thanks."

"I know, bro. I know."