The Vitamin Dugout

Maya's mom stood in the bathroom doorway, holding a bottle of neon-orange gummy vitamins like they were contraband. "You forgot these again. Your hair's been falling out, and your skin looks dull. We talked about this."

Maya groaned, grabbing her baseball cap from the hook. "I'm fine, Mom. I have tryouts today."

"For that BOYS' team." Her mom popped two gummies into Maya's palm. "Why can't you just do cheer like Ava? Her hair always looks perfect."

That was the thing about Ava. Everything about her was effortless—the cascading waves, the curated Instagram aesthetic, the way she could make anyone feel like they were nobody. But Maya? Maya had zero interest in being aesthetic. She wanted to play shortstop.

The baseball field stretched out before her like a promise. Coach Miller nodded as she stepped into the batter's box. First pitch—a fastball, high and tight. Maya swung late.

"You're thinking too much," said Ryan, the team's catcher, leaning against the backstop. He had that effortless cool that made everyone listen. "You're trying to be perfect like your sister."

"What do you know about my sister?"

"Everyone knows Mia," Ryan said. "She's, like, TikTok famous or something. But you? You've got this... I don't know, intensity. It's sick."

Maya's ponytail fell out of her cap, frizzy and wild. She shoved it back in, face burning. "Great. Now everyone can compare our hair too."

"Nah." Ryan grinned. "My mom's all about that holistic stuff. She's got me taking these massive vitamins that taste like chalk. Says it'll help with growth." He gestured at himself. "Clearly working, right?"

Maya snorted. "You're like six feet tall."

"Exactly." Ryan tossed a baseball to her. "My point? Nobody cares about that stuff. They care if you can hit."

Next pitch: line drive to right field. Then another. And another. By the time she stepped out of the box, Coach Miller was already making notes.

"Not bad," he called. "See you tomorrow."

Walking home, Maya's phone buzzed. Mia had posted another selfie—perfect hair, perfect lighting, perfect caption. Maya paused, then typed: *Made the team.*

Her hair was still frizzy. Her mom would still nag about vitamins. But for the first time, Maya didn't care about being aesthetic. She was just herself, and that was enough.