The Vending Machine Incident

The ethernet cable lay across my bedroom floor like a dead snake, a constant reminder that my gaming setup was incomplete. Again. Mom had grounded me from buying the fifty-foot cable I needed to reach the router in the hallway—something about "budget priorities" and "responsibility."

"You need focus, Maya," she'd said, handing me a bright orange bottle of gummy vitamins shaped like bears. "These will help with your concentration. And you're getting a job."

That's how I ended up working at Gene's Vitamin Shack at the mall, surrounded by shelves of supplements that promised everything from "brain clarity" to "athletic performance." I spent three hours a day explaining the difference between Vitamin D3 and D2 to people who didn't care.

Then Tyler walked in.

Tyler, who played varsity baseball and had that effortless confidence I'd been faking since seventh grade. Tyler, whose dad coached the team everyone actually cared about. He wasn't supposed to be in a vitamin store on a Tuesday afternoon.

"Hey," he said, leaning against the counter like he belonged there. "You're Maya, right? From AP Bio?"

I froze. "Yeah?"

"Cool." He picked up a bottle of something called "Focus Factor" and squinted at the label. "My dad wants me to take this stuff for the season. Says it'll help with my batting average." He laughed, and something in my chest did that stupid flutter thing. "Anyway, there's a party this Friday. At Jackson's house. You should come."

"Oh," I said, because my brain had stopped functioning. "I mean—yeah. Maybe."

"Awesome." He smiled, and I noticed his eyes were actually hazel, not brown like I'd thought from across the classroom. "Oh, and you might want to fix your setup. The lag's probably killing your K/D ratio."

I blinked. "What?"

"Gaming," he said. "I saw your profile. You're actually pretty good. But I bet your cable's too short, right?" He gestured vaguely at the floor behind me, where I'd been absentmindedly braiding some craft cord while I worked. "I can help you set up a proper ethernet run. My brother does IT for the school district."

"Wait—you game?"

"Since I was like, twelve," Tyler said, shrugging. "Baseball's just what I do so my dad doesn't worry about my college applications. I'm actually way better at Valorant."

I looked at the baseball star standing in front of me, holding a bottle of fake focus supplements, offering to help me run cable through my house so we could play video games together.

"Friday," I heard myself say. "I'll be there."

"Cool." He paid for the vitamins with crumpled bills. "See you then, Maya."

After he left, I texted my mom: I need that fifty-foot cable. It's for an... important project.

She texted back: Fine. But you're still taking your vitamins.

I laughed and grabbed a gummy bear from the display bottle. Some things, I figured, were worth the compromise.