The Vitamin C Catastrophe

Marcus stood in front of his bathroom mirror, arranging his hair for the third time. The vitamin C supplement sat on the counter like an accusation. His older brother had been the baseball star of the family—captain of the varsity team, homecoming king, all that perfect nonsense. Marcus? He was just the sophomore who'd somehow accidentally signed up for baseball tryouts because Jordan, the girl he'd been crushing on since September, had mentioned she liked guys who played.

"You coming, bro?" his brother called from downstairs. "Coach hates it when you're late."

Marcus grabbed the vitamin and swallowed it dry. Bad idea. He choked, splashing water from the sink everywhere, his reflection now looking like a drowned rat rather than a potential baseball phenom. Great start.

The tryouts were happening at the field behind school, and Marcus's stomach was doing that thing where it felt like tiny demons were having a mosh pit in there. He'd never even held a baseball properly, unless you counted that one time in gym class when he'd somehow managed to throw it backward and hit the scoreboard.

"Marcus!" Jordan waved from the bleachers. She was wearing that oversized hoodie she always wore, the one with the paint stains on the sleeves. His heart did that stupid fluttery thing. "You got this!"

He stepped up to the plate. The coach, a guy who looked like he'd eaten too many protein shakes and spent too much time yelling at teenagers, tossed him the ball. Marcus swung so hard he nearly dislocated his shoulder, missed everything, and stumbled backward into the water cooler.

The water cooler exploded.

Cold water everywhere. Drenching his jeans, his sneakers, his dignity. The entire baseball team stared. Jordan covered her mouth, but her eyes were crinkling like she was trying not to laugh.

But then Marcus started laughing too. Like, actually laughing. Because this was ridiculous. He'd taken a vitamin, choked on water, and destroyed a water cooler all in one morning, all because he was trying to be someone he wasn't.

"You know what," he said, dripping wet, "I think I'm gonna go join the art club instead. They probably don't have water coolers."

Jordan hopped down from the bleachers. "Actually, art club meets in the room next door. I was heading there anyway."

Marcus grinned. Maybe striking out wasn't the worst thing that could happen. Sometimes you had to spill some water to figure out where you actually belonged.