Three Seconds at Bat

The chlorine stung my eyes, but not as bad as the humiliation currently searing my cheeks. I'd been working as a lifeguard at the community pool all summer, mostly rescuing floaties and watching old ladies do water aerobics to 80s pop hits. My actual swimming skills? Solid. My social skills? Drowning.

"Hey, Fish!" Marcus called from the bleachers, using the nickname he'd given me freshman year because I'd won a goldfish at the carnival and somehow kept it alive for three years. "Baseball tryouts today. You coming or what?"

"Nope," I said, focusing very intensely on the pool filter. "Busy."

"Doing what? Having a staring contest with your goldfish again?" He laughed, and Sarah—the Sarah who'd sat behind me in bio and whose smile could actually stop time—giggled along.

My goldfish, Fin, was actually a low-key genius. He'd mastered the art of looking deeply philosophical while basically being orange with panic attacks. Which was basically my entire personality.

"Come on," Sarah said, appearing suddenly beside me. How she got there without me noticing was a mystery. "It'll be fun. Besides, we need someone who can actually catch a ball."

The old me would've made an excuse about having to vacuum. The new me—the one trying to be bold and stuff—nodded. "Sure. Why not."

What. Was. I. Thinking.

Baseball practice was exactly what I expected: chaos, dirt, and Marcus somehow looking annoyingly athletic while hitting everything into orbit. When Coach Miller pointed at me and said "You're up," I felt like I was going to throw up.

The first pitch came at me like it had personal business. *Swing and a miss.* The second one wasn't better. By the third one, I could hear Marcus and his friends barely containing their laughter.

Then Sarah yelled, "Just imagine it's a really big bug! SWIMMING toward you!"

Something clicked. All those hours in the pool, watching trajectories, calculating distances—I channeled everything into that swing. *CRACK.* The ball sailed past Marcus's stunned face into left field.

"Yesss!" Sarah screamed.

Later, Fin and I had a deep conversation about how sometimes you have to step out of your bowl, even if it's terrifying. He just blew bubbles, but I'm pretty sure he agreed.