The Zombie Who Couldn't Base Running

Marcus's stomach did that thing again—the way it always did before **baseball** tryouts. Like someone was wringing out a towel inside him. He'd eaten **spinach** with dinner last night because his mom said it'd make him strong, but now he just felt like a weak plant who couldn't hit anything.

"You got this, bro," Tyler said, bumping his shoulder. Tyler, who'd been starting varsity since freshman year. Tyler, whose hair somehow defied physics.

Marcus nodded, trying to look confident. Inside, he felt like a fraud. A **zombie** going through the motions of being an athlete when he'd rather be anywhere else. Maybe that was his problem—maybe he was already dead inside, and nobody had noticed.

Coach Ortiz blew his whistle. "Base running drills! Let's see what you've got, freshman!"

Marcus's legs pumped as he sprinted toward first base, cleats digging into the dirt. His lungs burned, heart hammering against his ribs like a trapped bird. He was **running** from something—not toward something, but away. Away from the expectations, away from his dad's old varsity jacket gathering dust in the closet, away from the weight of being the kid who was supposed to pick up where his older brother left off.

"Faster! Push it!" Coach yelled.

Marcus's foot caught. He went down hard, sliding through the dirt like he'd just stolen home plate without meaning to. His knees burned. Laughter rippled through the outfield—maybe at him, maybe with him, maybe he was paranoid.

He pushed himself up, dusting off his uniform. That's when he saw it—a massive **bear** of a senior stepping onto the field. Javier. 6'3" and built like a tank, with a soft smile that caught Marcus off guard.

"You good, rookie?" Javier asked, extending a hand.

Marcus took it. "Yeah. Just... clumsy."

"Nah, you've got heart," Javier said, pulling him up. "That slide? Pretty epic. Coach loves that stuff. Shows you're not afraid to get dirty."

Marcus blinked. "Really?"

"Bro, I ate it twice as hard my first day," Javier laughed. "We're all just zombies out here sometimes, you know? Running on coffee and vibes. But the ones who stick around? They're the ones who keep getting back up."

For the first time all morning, Marcus's stomach settled. Maybe he didn't have to be his brother. Maybe he didn't even have to be good at baseball. He just had to keep showing up.

"Thanks," Marcus said.

"Don't mention it," Javier said. "Now let's see you steal second like you mean it."