The Sphinx in the Dugout

Leo's cat Luna stared at him from the windowsill like she knew something he didn't. Which was honestly offensive, considering she spent 90% of her life sleeping and the other 10% knocking his water bottles off the desk.

"You're judging me," Leo muttered, shoving his phone in his pocket. "That's rich coming from someone who got stuck in a tree for three hours last week."

Luna yawned.

Outside, Jordan's horn honked — two short bursts, their signal since sixth grade. Leo grabbed his baseball gear and bolted, heart already doing that stupid fluttery thing.

"You nervous?" Jordan asked as they pulled up to the field. Tryouts. The word alone tasted like copper.

"No," Leo lied.

"Bull." Jordan grinned, tapping their fingers against the steering wheel. "You've been obsessing over this for weeks. You're gonna crush it, Lee."

The nickname still hit weird. Three months ago, Leo had posted a single coming-out Instagram — just a rainbow flag emoji, nothing dramatic — and somehow Jordan had started calling him "Lee" like it was the most natural thing in the world. Like his whole identity hadn't done this terrified, electric reshuffling.

Like he wasn't still trying to figure out who he even was.

The field was packed. Coach Miller stood by home plate, clipboard in hand, looking terrifyingly serious. Near the dugout, Sarah Chen laughed with her friends like she didn't have a care in the world. Two years ago, Leo had spent every single English class stealth-glancing at her, convinced she was his sphinx — this mysterious, perfect riddle he'd never solve.

Now he just thought she was cool. It was weird how much simpler everything had gotten once he stopped trying to perform feelings he didn't actually have.

"Alright, listen up!" Coach Miller's voice cut through the chatter. "Batting practice starts now. Let's see what you've got."

Leo's stomach dropped.

Jordan bumped his shoulder. "Hey. You've been working on your swing since, like, March. You're ready."

What if he wasn't, though? What if he choked? What if everyone —

"Lee." Jordan's voice softened. "Breathe."

He did.

First pitch: solid contact. Second: better. Third —

nThe crack of the bat echoed across the field. The ball arced toward the fence, clearing it easily. For a second, nobody moved. Then someone whistled, and Sarah Chen actually yelled "YEAH LEO!" and okay, maybe his face was burning but also —

Also he felt like he could fly.

Jordan whooped, slapping his back. "That's what I'm talking about!"

Later, as they walked back to the car, Leo thought about Luna's judgmental stare, about the terrified kid he'd been three months ago, about how sometimes the scariest riddles were the ones you asked yourself.

"Hey Jordan?"

"Yeah?"

"Thanks. For, you know. Everything."

Jordan shrugged, but they were smiling. "That's what friends are for, Lee."

His phone buzzed. His mom had sent a photo: Luna curled up on his bed, looking thoroughly unimpressed by everything.

Leo grinned. Some sphinxes never changed — and honestly? That was okay.