The Spy in Right Field

Marcus tugged his baseball cap lower, eyes scanning the crowd like a spy on a secret mission. The bill of his hat cast a shadow across his face—perfect cover for the major reason he'd even come to this game: Her. Chloe. The girl whose locker was three down from his, whose laugh sounded like sparklers, and who had no idea he existed.

Right field was the perfect position for invisible observation. Nothing ever happened here, which meant everything could happen in his head. He leaned against the chain-link fence, one hand shoved in his pocket, fingers curled around his iPhone like a lifeline. Three missed texts from Kyle:DUDE. Stop being creepy. JUST TALK TO HER.

Easy for Kyle to say. Kyle wasn't the one whose voice cracked every time he tried to say "hey" in the hallway. Kyle wasn't the one who'd practiced conversation starters in the mirror until his little sister walked in and asked if he was okay.

"Marcus! You gonna stand there or actually play?" his coach yelled.

He blinked. The ball was soaring toward him like a slow-motion miracle. This was it—the moment to prove he wasn't just some awkward freshman hiding behind a hat. He planted his feet, heart hammering against his ribs, and stretched his glove toward the sky.

The ball hit his palm with a satisfying thud. He'd caught it. He'd actually caught it.

Chloe was watching. She was clapping.

He threw the ball toward the infield, but his hands were shaking. The throw sailed wild, bouncing past second base. His face burned hotter than the sun beating down on the field.

But then—a notification lit up his iPhone screen, glowing against his thigh. A number he didn't recognize, with a text that made his stomach flip:

Nice catch btw. This is Chloe. Kyle gave me ur number. wanna hang after?

Marcus read it three times. Then four.

His hat felt crooked suddenly. He straightened it, took a breath, and typed back with fingers that finally, finally knew what they were doing.

yeah. i'd like that.

The spy in right field had just been made. And somehow, he didn't mind at all.