The Vitamin Deficiency

Leo's first week of sophomore year and already he'd perfected the art of the strategic bathroom hide. Ten minutes into lunch, he'd slip away, because watching Jayden dominate the social hierarchy from across the cafeteria was basically cardio he didn't sign up for.

"Dude, you coming to padel later?" Jayden slung an arm around Leo's shoulder like they were actually friends. "We need a fourth."

"Uh—"

"Perfect. Wear something you don't mind sweating in."

Leo tugged at his hoodie. He hated padel. He hated sports where his limbs stopped feeling like his own property. But Jayden had this gravitational pull, like he was the sun and everyone else was just caught in his orbit, trying not to burn up.

The real problem was Maya. Maya, who sat two tables over, whose laugh sounded like actual music. Maya, who'd definitely notice if Leo flailed around a padel court like a dying fish.

After school, Leo threw on every vitamin C supplement he could find—his mom swore it helped with stress—and biked to the courts. His hands were shaking so bad he almost crashed twice.

"You good, man?" Jayden called from across the net. "You look like you saw a bear."

"All good," Leo lied, wiping sweat on his shorts.

They played. Leo missed every ball. His arms felt like they belonged to someone else, someone uncoordinated and deeply unfortunate. Maya watched from the sidelines. He could feel her gaze like physical weight.

Then it happened. His phone flew from his pocket, skidded across the court, and he lunged—gracelessly, tragically—and somehow managed to faceplant directly into the padel net.

"Whoa," someone said. "You okay?"

Leo rolled over, certain this was the end. His life, his dignity, any chance with Maya ever—gone. Destroyed. Incinerated.

But then Maya was there, crouching beside him, actually concerned. "That was... intense."

"I'm dead," Leo groaned. "This is my ghost speaking."

She laughed. Not the fake laugh he'd heard from across the cafeteria. Real. "You're ridiculous."

"I know."

"Wanna get out of here? I know this place that has the best smoothies."

Later, as they sat across from each other, Leo realized something: he could spend his whole life orbiting people who didn't actually see him, or he could just... stop. The vitamins weren't fixing anything. The performative panic wasn't helping. Sometimes the scariest thing wasn't embarrassing yourself—it was letting someone witness it and stay anyway.

"So," Maya said, "same time tomorrow?"

Leo smiled. "Absolutely not."