The Vitamin A Incident

Marcus stood in front of his bathroom mirror, popping another chewable **vitamin** C tablet. The orange flavor exploded on his tongue—same one he'd been taking since kindergarten, only now he was sixteen and still waiting for that growth spurt his mom swore was coming.

"You gonna obsess all morning or actually get ready?" His little sister Maya leaned against the doorframe, already dressed in her soccer uniform. "Tryouts are at nine. You're gonna miss them."

"Not obsessing," Marcus lied, adjusting his jersey for the third time. "Just... preparing."

The **baseball** field at Roosevelt High was already buzzing when Marcus arrived. Coach Miller stood near home plate with a clipboard, while older kids from last year's team lounged against the backstop, looking way too comfortable. Marcus's stomach did that thing it always did—like a swarm of bees had taken residence inside his ribcage.

"Freshmen on the left!" Coach Miller shouted. "Let's see what you got."

Marcus ended up in the outfield with three other nervous-looking guys. When his turn came to bat, his hands were sweating so much he could barely grip the bat. First pitch: swing and a miss. Second: same. The third one grazed his shoulder, and he managed to awkwardly jog to first base.

"Way to take one for the team, kid," the catcher said. Marcus couldn't tell if he was being sarcastic.

Later that night, Marcus flopped onto his bed, scrolling through Instagram. Someone had already posted about tryouts—Roosevelt Baseball 2026, with a photo of the returning varsity players looking like they owned the world. No mention of the hopeful freshmen who'd spent three hours fielding grounders and striking out.

His phone buzzed. Group chat: Catching the premiere of The Bear tonight? Anyone?

Marcus stared at the message. That show everyone was obsessed with. He'd never seen it.

He grabbed his backpack and rummaged through the front pocket until he found what he was looking for—the bottle of gummy vitamins he'd shoplifted from CVS yesterday. Not because he needed them. Because Tyler from the baseball team had mentioned them in the locker room, said his older brother swore by them for recovery.

Marcus stared at the bottle. The label claimed they'd help with "muscle function" and "energy production." Yeah, right. Like a gummy **bear** shaped supplement was gonna fix everything.

He texted back: Count me in.

Maybe tryouts hadn't gone perfectly. Maybe he was still waiting on that growth spurt. But Marcus was done sitting on the sidelines of his own life. He grabbed his keys. Tonight, he was showing up.