Three Strikes and a Text

Jordan's palms were sweating so much the iPhone screen kept glitching. Again. She wiped them on her jeans for the third time, staring at the group of varsity baseball players by the dugout like they were some rare species of cool kid that only existed in teen movies.

They were all wearing their team hats backward—the universal signal that you were someone at Creekwood High. Jordan wasn't someone. She was the quiet sophomore who sat three rows behind them in English and had exactly zero conversations with anyone who could legally drive.

Until Tyler's Instagram story from the game tonight.

"You coming?" it said, with a location tag. That was it. Just that and a stupid emoji. But her heart had done that fluttery thing it did whenever he actually looked in her direction during class, which was almost never.

So here she was, standing at the edge of the baseball field like a total weirdo, wearing her brother's old Marlins hat because she thought maybe, just maybe, she could pull it off. Spoiler: she couldn't. The brim kept dipping over her eyes.

Someone shouted. A ball came flying over the fence, headed straight for her. Jordan didn't think. She just started running—away from it, toward it, she didn't even know. Her legs moved on their own, dodging across the grass, and suddenly she was sliding (yes, actually sliding, like in movies) and the ball was in her hand.

Perfect.

She looked up. Tyler was jogging over.

"Nice catch," he said, actually smiling. Not the fake polite smile. The real one. "You always this fast?"

"Only when I'm terrified," Jordan said, and immediately wanted to die.

But Tyler laughed. "Hey, you coming to the party afterward? Everyone's going."

The iPhone in her pocket buzzed. Her mom, probably. But for once, she didn't care.

"Yeah," Jordan said, tossing him the ball with zero aim and somehow nailing it perfectly into his glove. "Yeah, I think I am."

Her palms were still sweating. The hat was still crooked. But for the first time all year, Jordan actually felt like she belonged.