The Vitamin Code

I'd been spying on Marcus for weeks—not in a creepy way, just... noticing. How his hair curled perfectly at the ends, how he laughed with his head thrown back, how he made everything look easy, even hitting home runs during gym class baseball.

"You're basically his best friend now," Chloe said, sliding onto the bench beside me. "He sits at your lunch table every day."

"We're not friends," I muttered, staring at my phone. "He just sits there because no one else will."

That stung, but it was basically true. Marcus had transferred to our school three months ago, and somehow he'd decided the back corner table—my table—was his new spot. We'd talked about video games and teachers and the weird smell of the boys' locker room. But friends? That felt like reaching too far.

Until the day he forgot his backpack in the cafeteria.

I zipped it open to grab his ID card before someone swiped it, and instead found a notebook. Not just any notebook—his baseball stats journal, pages filled with careful observations about every player on the school team. Including me.

"Maya: consistent hitter, terrible at catching but makes up for it with speed. Should try out for varsity next year."

I felt like I'd been spying on him, but he'd been studying me the whole time.

"You found it."

I jumped. Marcus stood in the cafeteria doorway, leaning against the frame like he owned the place.

"You—why do you have notes about everyone?" I demanded.

He shrugged, that perfect hair falling over his eyes. "I'm new here. I had to figure out who's who. Who's cool, who's fake, who's actually worth knowing."

"And I'm 'worth knowing'?"

"You're the only person who didn't treat me like either a celebrity or a freak when I transferred," he said simply. "Also, you're the one who noticed I take those gummy vitamins every day at lunch. Most people don't pay attention."

I blinked. I had noticed. I'd even bought the same brand last week, which was ridiculous and something I'd never admit.

"Tryouts are next week," he said, nodding toward the baseball field outside. "You should come. I put in a good word with the coach."

"I'm terrible at baseball," I said automatically.

"You're consistent," he countered. "And you're fast. Also, you're not afraid to look like an idiot trying, which is more than I can say for half the varsity team."

I thought about all those weeks I'd spent spying on him from behind my bangs, too scared to actually talk. How I'd noticed his vitamin ritual, his laugh, the way he made everything look easy when it probably wasn't.

"Fine," I said. "But if I strike out, you're buying me vitamin gummies. The good kind."

Marcus grinned, and for the first time, it didn't look effortless at all. It looked genuine. "Deal."