Wild Pitches and Stray Hearts

The baseball sat heavy in my glove like a stone I couldn't throw. Another strikeout, another chorus of disappointed sighs from the dugout. My dad's voice echoed in my head: "You gotta want it, Leo."

I slumped behind the backstop, away from everyone's eyes, when I saw him—a scrawny tabby cat with one ear chewed raw, lurking by the dumpster like he owned the place. He fixed me with yellow eyes that said, *Yeah, I see you sucking out there.*

"Whatever, cat," I muttered.

He crept closer, tail twitching. Something about his jacked-up ear, his don't-mess-with-me attitude—it reminded me of myself. I tossed him a piece of my protein bar. He sniffed it, then ate.

"You're welcome, dude."

"Who're you talking to?"

I jumped. Jenna. The new girl. The one with the jacket covered in band patches and that I-can't-believe-you-actually-said-that smile.

"Just... myself. And this cat."

She sat beside me. "Cool cat. He's got character."

That's when her dad showed up. Coach Miller. The guy everyone called The Bull behind his back—intense, old-school, full of bullshit speeches about toughness. I'd heard him screaming at his own daughter during warm-ups.

"Jenna, get back to the dugout. You're not here to socialize."

She rolled her eyes at me, mouthing *sorry* as she left.

The cat butted my hand, purring like a rusty engine. And something snapped. I stood up, walked to the dugout, and Coach Miller turned his glare on me.

"Garcia. If you're not playing, get off the field."

"Actually, Coach?" My voice shook, but I kept going. "Jenna was being cool. She's got a better arm than half your starters. Maybe let her pitch instead of screaming at her."

Silence. The Bull's face went red-purple. Then he laughed, sharp and mean. "Big talk from someone who struck out looking."

"Yeah. I did." I met his eyes. "But at least I swung."

The team went nuts. Someone high-fived me. Jenna grinned from the dugout, giving me a thumbs-up.

I walked back to the dumpster. The cat was gone, but he'd left something behind—a dead mouse, placed like an offering. I laughed, actually laughed. Sometimes you find confidence in the weirdest places.

And sometimes, you just have to take your swing.