The Summer I Stopped Playing

The baseball cap sat on my dashboard like a bad habit I couldn't quit. Dad had given it to me after I made the travel team three years ago, back when I still believed I loved the game. Now, at sixteen, the only thing I loved was the way Chloe's laugh sounded like wind chimes against the fence at Braden's pool party.

I'd been hiding behind the shed, choking down what I thought was an edible from Tyler's stash (legal, he swore, just chill vibes), when she found me.

"You know those are horse vitamins, right?" Chloe said, grinning. "Tyler's mom's horse vitamins."

I stared at the chewed-up purple gel capsule in my hand. "That explains the... interesting aftertaste."

"That's alfalfa and equine joint support, babe." She plopped down beside me, her wet hair dripping chlorine onto my jeans. "So, baseball practice tomorrow?"

"Maybe." I leaned back against the rough wood. "Or maybe I'll finally tell my dad I'd rather spend my Saturdays literally anywhere else."

Chloe's eyes widened. "For real? But you're like, the star pitcher or something."

"Star inhaler of locker room farts, maybe." I sighed. "I just... I keep waiting for it to feel real, you know? Like everyone expects me to be this baseball guy, but I'm just going through the motions. It's like I'm wearing someone else's hat."

Literally. The cap on my dashboard was starting to fade, the brim bent from all the times I'd twisted it nervous.

"So don't wear it." Chloe reached over and squeezed my hand. "First time I jumped off the high dive, I stood up there for twenty minutes. Literally shaking. Then Braden climbed up and said, 'Chloe, just jump. The water's deep enough to catch you.'"

"Did you?"

"Closed my eyes and stepped off. Scariest, best moment of my life." She nudged my shoulder. "Your dad loves you. He'll catch you."

The pool's surface rippled in the twilight, swimmers' silhouettes gliding like ghosts. I thought about Sunday's game—how I'd purposely thrown four balls just to sit the bench, how relief had washed over me instead of shame.

"I think," I said slowly, "I think I'm gonna jump."

Chloe squeezed my hand. Then she did the unthinkable: she reached forward, grabbed my baseball cap from the dashboard, and tossed it onto the pool's floating surface.

"Hey!"

"Symbolism," she whispered, and kissed me.

My first kiss tasted like chlorine and horse vitamins and pure, terrified freedom. The baseball cap floated away into the darkness, and somewhere beyond the fence, summer waited. I was ready.