The Sphinx at Slater's Pool

The chlorine stung my eyes, but I wouldn't get out of the pool. Not with Jamie watching from the diving board, surrounded by the varsity baseball team like they owned the place.

"Hey, mute boy!" Jamie called out. Everyone laughed. I'd earned the nickname last year when I froze up during the eighth-grade showcase. For three minutes and forty-two seconds, I stood there like a stone sphinx, saying nothing while my presentation notes burned in my pocket.

A baseball splashed into the water beside me. The team's star catcher, Marcus, smirked from the deck. "Oops. Our bad."

I fished it out, water dripping down my arms. My older brother Alex had been on that team before he graduated. Now I was the disappointing little brother who couldn't speak when it mattered.

"Toss it back!" someone yelled.

My fingers tightened around the baseball. Just throw it, I told myself. But that voice in my head started whispering: what if I throw wrong? What if they laugh? What if—

"You okay?"

I looked up. Marcus was actually in the pool now, swimming over. His expression wasn't mocking anymore. Just confused. "You've been holding that ball for like five minutes, bro."

"I..." My voice cracked. "I'm not good at sports."

Marcus blinked. "So? Neither is half the team. We just mess around. Jamie's an idiot, don't let him get to you." He gestured toward the group. "Wanna play goalie? We're doing water baseball. It's idiotic and impossible, which is why it's fun."

For the first time since the sphinx incident, I didn't overthink it. I tossed the baseball back.

"Why not," I said.

By the time the sun set, I was exhausted, prune-fingered, and had made three new friends. Sometimes the hardest part isn't speaking—it's believing someone actually wants to listen.