Three Strikes at Forever

The spinach stuck between my teeth felt like a glowing neon sign announcing my awkwardness to everyone at Jordan's party. I'd been hovering by the snack table for twenty minutes, too nervous to actually talk to anyone, especially not him.

My iPhone buzzed in my pocket — probably Riley demanding to know why I wasn't living my best first-party-of-summer life. But I couldn't move. Not with the spinach situation. Not with Jordan playing baseball in the backyard with that effortless confidence that made everything look easy.

"You gonna stand there all night?"

I jumped. Jordan stood there, grass stains on his knees, baseball cap backward, holding a red Solo cup. My heart did that stupid flutter thing it always did when he was within ten feet.

"Just... admiring the spread," I managed, wishing the ground would swallow me whole.

He laughed, and it was worse up close — all warm and genuine and unfair. "You've got a little..." He gestured to his own teeth, and I wanted to evaporate. "Spinach, right?"

I frantically tried to wipe it away with my finger, probably making it worse. This was it. The social execution. My first high school party, and I'd be remembered as Spinach Girl forever.

But then Jordan did something unexpected. He reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone, showing me the screen. "Check this out — my sister sent me this video of a goldfish she won at the fair. It's been following her finger around the bowl for three days straight."

I leaned in, forgetting the spinach for a second. The goldfish was actually mesmerizing, all orange scales and flowing fins, endlessly circling its tiny world.

"That's kind of beautiful," I said, then immediately regretted sounding so philosophical about a fish.

Jordan shrugged, smiling. "Yeah. Sometimes I feel like that, you know? Just going in circles waiting for something to happen."

The sun was setting behind the backyard fence. Someone called his name — baseball time again. But he didn't move.

"Hey," he said, "you should come play. We need another player for teams. And..." he lowered his voice, "the spinach's gone, by the way."

I smiled, really smiled, and followed him toward the makeshift diamond. Sometimes the smallest things — a fish in a bowl, a moment of honesty, a boy who notices but doesn't make you feel small — are exactly what you need to finally break out of your corner and start playing the game.