Waterlogged Summer

The **water** fountain at Riverside Park had been broken for three straight weeks of July heat, which meant Marcus's throat felt like someone had dragged sandpaper through it. He gripped his **baseball** bat so tightly his knuckles turned white, watching Jake—the absolute worst kind of friend—laugh with the cool kids near the dugout.

"You coming, bro?" Jake called, like nothing had changed. Like they hadn't been literally best friends since fourth grade. "Coach wants that lineup."

Marcus's brain served up the entire highlight reel of betrayal: Jake ditching him for lunch, Jake 'forgetting' to invite him to Tyler's party, Jake suddenly too cool for their weekend gaming sessions. Now Jake wanted to act chill about **baseball** practice?

Something snapped. Maybe it was the dehydration talking. Maybe Marcus was just done.

"Actually," Marcus said, loud enough that the cool kids glanced over, "I gotta help my sister with something."

Jake's face fell, just for a second, before the mask slid back on. "Whatever, dude. Your loss."

Marcus walked toward the parking lot, heart hammering against his ribs like it was trying to break out. What had he just done? He loved baseball. He lived for that feeling of connecting with the ball, the perfect crack echoing across the field.

But not like this. Not as someone's backup option.

His phone buzzed in his pocket. Probably his mom asking what he wanted for dinner. Probably the universe mocking his spontaneous terrible decision.

Marcus found himself at the old swimming hole nobody really used anymore, tucked behind the maintenance shed. The **water** looked murky but inviting, and without thinking it through, he stripped to his boxers and dove in.

The cold hit him like a physical blow, shocking all the rage out of his system. He floated on his back, staring up at the perfect blue sky, and finally let himself feel it.

By the time he dragged himself out, pruned fingers and toes, his phone had blown up with seven messages.

Jake: dude where are you

Jake: coach is pissed

Jake: i covered for you btw

Jake: answer me

Jake: are we cool

Jake: i miss you bro

Jake: please respond

Marcus sat on the grass, dripping **water** everywhere, and typed back: we need to talk

The phone rang instantly.

"I'm such an idiot," Jake said without hello. "I thought being popular would feel better than this."

"You're telling me," Marcus said, but he was already smiling. "Same time tomorrow?"

"Your place or mine?"

"Mine. I've got Halo."

"You're on." A pause. "And Marcus?"

"Yeah?"

"Thanks for not quitting the team. I'd literally die without my favorite **baseball** friend."

Marcus laughed, real and genuine, watching his skin dry in the summer heat. "Don't make it weird, Jake."