The Palm Reader's Pitch

Marcus's palms were sweating. Again.

"You're staring at your hands," Jordan said from the bleacher beside him. "You always do that before you pitch."

Marcus wiped his right **palm** on his jersey. "They're just sweaty. It's the heat."

"It's not the heat." Jordan pointed to the **water** fountain behind the backstop. "You've drunk, like, five bottles of water. You're not hydrated—you're spiraling."

Marcus groaned. The championship game was twenty minutes away. His phone kept buzzing with texts from the team group chat. _Bro, don't choke._ _We got this._ _No pressure lol._

"What if I'm not ready?" Marcus said quietly.

Jordan rolled their eyes. "You've been **running** plays since February. You threw a no-hitter last week against North. You're good."

"That was different. This is different." Marcus's chest felt tight. "Everyone's watching. Scouts, coaches, my dad..."

"Your dad who showed up to, what, two games this season?" Jordan's voice softened. "Marcus, you pitch for YOU. Not them."

The **baseball** field shimmered in the late afternoon sun. The dirt was groomed to perfection. The chalk lines were crisp. Everything was ready except him.

"Hey." Jordan turned toward him fully. "Give me your hand."

"What?"

"Your hand. Give it."

Marcus hesitated, then held out his right hand.

Jordan traced the lines on his palm with one finger, pretending to examine them seriously. "Hmm. Interesting."

"You don't know how to read palms."

"I'm seeing something very clearly." Jordan looked up, grinning. "This line says you're going to strike out their best hitter. This one says you're going to hit a home run when you're up to bat. And this tiny one right here?"

"What?" Marcus leaned in.

"Says you're going to stop overthinking and just play ball."

Marcus laughed. For the first time all day, his chest loosened.

"Now give me five," Jordan said. Marcus slapped their hand. "Let's go."

As Marcus walked toward the mound, the crowd noise faded into the background. His palm didn't feel sweaty anymore. It felt ready.

He could do this.

He already was.