Washout King

Summer between freshman and sophomore year, I figured I'd max out on Xbox and sleepovers. Then Marcus moved in next door—the kid who wore Vans with everything and actually used the word 'unalive' unironically. I tried vibing with him, really. But when he invited me to the padel courts at his country club, I tapped out hard.

'I don't do sports,' I told him, dead serious.

'Bro, it's literally tennis but easier,' he countered, bouncing a ball off my garage door until my mom popped her head out, probably wondering if she should've bought those noise-canceling headphones.

Three weeks later, I was standing on a padel court looking like a complete clown while Marcus served with the confidence of someone who'd been training since birth. The ball whizzed past my ear. I pivoted, tripped, and face-planted into the glass wall. The seniors on the next court lost it. One of them—this girl Maya who sat behind me in bio—actually wheezed.

'You good?' Marcus asked, trying to suppress a grin.

'Never better,' I muttered, wiping dirt off my chin. 'This is exactly how I pictured my Saturday.'

But here's the thing about Marcus: he didn't make me feel like a total loser. He just kept inviting me back. And somewhere between the embarrassing failures and the accidental aces, we became actual friends. Not the school variety where you sit together at lunch because you both have nowhere else to be. The real kind.

Then came the pool party at Maya's house—the one everyone was talking about because her parents were never home and she somehow got away with hosting ragers. Marcus showed up at my door holding a pair of board shorts he swore were 'practically new.'

'No way,' I said. 'You didn't.'

'They're clean,' he insisted. 'My cousin left them here last summer.'

I borrowed swim trunks from my dad. Don't judge.

We walked into Maya's backyard like we owned the place. Literally everyone from school was there—sophomores, juniors, the popular crowd I'd been ghosting since middle school. Someone had hooked up massive speakers, and the air smelled like chlorine and coconut sunscreen.

'Yo, isn't that padel kid?' Some guy I'd never met pointed at Marcus. 'Saw you destroying that freshman at the courts last week.'

Marcus laughed it off, but I caught his forearm tense up. That's when I realized it: Marcus was trying just as hard as I was.

'He didn't destroy me,' I said, loud enough for the circle around the pool to hear. 'I got one past him. Last set. You guys missed it.'

Marcus looked at me, and for the first time, his guard dropped.

Maya surfaced from the pool, water dripping from her hair. 'Wanna play chicken?' she called out.

I looked at Marcus. He looked at me. We didn't say anything, just nodded and jumped in.