Undercover at the Plate

Maya stood behind the bleachers, baseball cap pulled low over her eyes, feeling like the world's worst spy. Her best friend Chloe had dared her to "investigate" why Tyler—THE Tyler, who'd moved here three months ago and somehow already ruled the school—always sat alone during lunch.

"You're basically a spy," Chloe had said with her dramatic flair, handing Maya a crumpled tissue. "For science. For humanity. For my Instagram feed."

Now here she was, at the varsity baseball game, pretending to be interested in balls and strikes when really she was just gathering intel. Tyler sat two rows down, elbows on his knees, watching the game like it contained the answers to the universe.

The baseball field stretched out under the lights, dirt and grass and teenage boys in tight uniforms swinging at tiny white spheres. Maya still didn't get the appeal, but she felt weirdly jealous of how completely Tyler could focus on something so trivial.

Her phone buzzed. Chloe: "STATUS REPORT?"

Maya typed back: "Target is watching baseball like his life depends on it. Still weird loner status."

She was about to leave when Tyler suddenly turned, catching her eyes dead-on. Her palm went sweaty against her phone case. Busted. The worst spy in history, exposed.

But instead of looking annoyed, he grinned. "You've been standing there for twenty minutes. Either you're really into baseball, or you're stalking me."

Maya's face burned. "I was just... the game seemed..."

"Relax." He scooted over, patting the empty spot beside him. "I'm Tyler. And you're terrible at being subtle."

"Maya," she managed, sitting beside him. "I'm usually not this creepy."

"Usually?"

They talked through four innings—about nothing and everything. Turns out Tyler wasn't mysterious; he was just new and socially anxious, and baseball was the one thing that made sense when everything else felt weird and lonely.

"Want to know why I like baseball?" he said as the game ended. "Because every time you strike out, you get another chance to swing. Life should work like that."

Maya looked at her palm, where she'd drawn a tiny reminder in pen earlier: BE BRAVE. She wiped it on her jeans, then typed to Chloe: "Mission accomplished. Target acquired. Will report tomorrow with full intel."

"You coming tomorrow?" Tyler asked.

"Maybe," Maya said, feeling like she'd just hit her first home run. "If you promise not to expose my terrible spy skills."

"Your secret's safe with me." He held out his palm. "Deal?"

She high-fived him. "Deal."