Three Strikes at Midnight

Jordan's baseball cleats clicked against the cafeteria floor—echoing like a countdown to something that wasn't happening. Varsity tryouts were tomorrow, and his stomach was doing backflips that had nothing to do with the questionable spinach salad staring back at him from his tray.

"You're overthinking it again," Maya said, sliding into the seat across from him. She stabbed at her own salad with the precision of someone who'd given up on caring what people thought. "Baseball is literally just hitting things with sticks. You've been doing that since tee-ball."

"Easy for you to say," Jordan muttered, pushing the spinach around with his fork. "You're not the one whose dad starts every conversation with 'so, about that scholarship...'"

The truth was, Jordan wasn't even sure he wanted baseball anymore. Last summer, while his teammates were at showcases, he'd been home watching his brother's goldfish circling its bowl in endless, perfect loops. Finnegan the fish had more freedom than Jordan felt—swimming wherever he wanted, no expectations, no coaches analyzing his form, no scouts in the stands with clipboards and judgment.

But then there were moments like last week, when he'd crushed a line drive into the gap and rounded the bases so smoothly his body seemed to know something his mind didn't. The way the ball connected with the bat—that perfect crack that echoed through the entire field like thunder. That feeling when everything clicked and nothing else existed.

Maya sighed, dramatic and world-weary in that way only fifteen-year-olds can be. "You know what your problem is? You're trying to be the person everyone thinks you should be. Maybe try being Jordan first, Baseball Player second."

She grabbed his tray, spinach and all. "I'm throwing this away before you make yourself more nervous. Let's go to the pet store."

"Why?"

"Because," she said, dragging him up by his sweatshirt, "you need a goldfish. Something that doesn't care if you make the team or not. Something that just swims in circles and exists. Reminder that life's not that deep."

Jordan laughed, and something loosened in his chest. Maybe tomorrow would be what it would be. Maybe he'd make varsity, maybe he wouldn't. But for now, he had a best friend who dragged him to pet stores for existential reasons, and that was enough.

The baseball tryouts could wait. Tonight, they were getting a fish.