Three Strikes You're Out

Leo gripped the baseball bat until his knuckles turned white. Varsity tryouts. Sophomore year. The defining moment he'd been stress-dreaming about for weeks.

"You're up, Marcus!" Coach yelled, getting his name wrong again.

Leo stepped to the plate, heart hammering against his ribs like a trapped bird. The first pitch sailed past — strike one. He adjusted his helmet, trying to channel the confidence of his older brother, the one who'd made varsity as a freshman. The second pitch: swing and a miss. Strike two.

"Looking tight, kid," muttered the catcher — a senior whose dad owned half the car dealerships in town. The kind of guy who'd never felt awkward a day in his life.

Third pitch came high and inside. Leo swung anyway. Pop fly to right field. Incomplete.

"Next!" Coach was already looking at his clipboard.

Leo trudged back to the dugout, fighting the burn in his throat. This was it. The moment where everyone realized he was a fraud. Just some kid whose brother could actually play.

He didn't go home right away. Instead, he found himself at the edge of the woods behind the school, where the stray cat — the one with the patchy gray coat and one shredded ear — liked to hang out. Leo'd been feeding it lunch meat sandwiches for weeks. It was the one thing that didn't expect anything from him.

"Hey, Cat," he whispered, sitting against the old oak tree. The cat appeared from nowhere, winding through his legs like it owned him. "You won't believe the day I had. Actually, you probably would. You seem like you've seen some stuff."

Something rustled in the brush nearby. Cat froze, ears back.

Then Leo saw it — a massive black bear, not thirty feet away, watching them with curious dark eyes.

His brain short-circuited. Every safety video from elementary school flashed through his mind: PLAY DEAD. MAKE NOISE. BACK AWAY SLOWLY. Which one was it? He couldn't remember.

Cat arched its back, hissing. The bear took a step closer.

"Hey!" Leo yelled, voice cracking. "Go away! Go on!"

The bear paused, head tilting like it was considering him. Then, with a huff, it turned and lumbered away, disappearing into the trees like it had never been there at all.

Leo sat there for a long time, heart finally slowing down. Cat returned to rubbing against his shin, purring like a tiny engine.

"We just scared off a bear," Leo whispered. "A literal bear."

Something shifted in his chest. If he could face down a bear behind the school, maybe strikeout number twelve at tryouts wasn't the end of the world. Maybe he could show up tomorrow, try again. Maybe that's what actual players did.

Cat head-butted his hand, demanding attention.

"Yeah, yeah. I got you." Leo dug into his pocket for the other half of his sandwich. "You earned this."