Three Strikes and a Goldfish

Marcus stood in the outfield, glove practically dangling from his hand like it was radioactive. PE baseball was basically his personal torture chamber—second period, every Tuesday and Thursday, like clockwork misery.

"Yo Marcus, heads up!" someone yelled, but Marcus was too busy watching Riley—the girl everyone called Fox because she was sleek, clever, and impossible to catch. She sat in the bleachers, supposedly studying but actually looking like she owned the entire school.

A real fox darted across the edge of the baseball field, orange tail flashing. Marcus did a double-take because what? Since when did actual foxes roam suburban high schools? But nobody else noticed. Maybe it was a sign. Maybe the universe was telling him to stop being such a coward and just talk to her already.

Instead, he got hit in the head with a fly ball.

"Dude, are you good?" asked Jake, the pitcher who was basically a walking Jordan cologne ad.

"Yeah, totally," Marcus lied, rubbing his skull. "Just vibing."

His face burned hotter than the pizza bagels they served at lunch. Fox-Riley was definitely laughing. He could feel it radiating from the bleachers like cosmic judgment.

Later that night, Marcus flopped onto his bed and stared at his goldfish bowl. Captain Bubbles floated there, mouth opening and closing, looking for all the world like he was about to drop some serious wisdom.

"I'm doomed," Marcus told the fish. "Like, completely cooked. She probably thinks I have the coordination of a newborn giraffe."

Captain Bubbles said nothing, because he was a goldfish with a three-second memory and approximately zero insight into the teenage social hierarchy.

Marcus's phone buzzed. Unknown number.

Hey, it's Riley. Fox girl. You okay today? That looked like it hurt.

His heart did something completely illegal. He typed and deleted approximately seventeen responses before settling on:

Yeah I'm good lol just having a moment

Cool. Want to hang at the baseball game Friday? I'll make sure nobody hits you in the head again.

Marcus smiled at Captain Bubbles. "See? Sometimes the universe throws you a strike, but then you get a hit."

The fish continued to not care.