Zombie at the Plate

I looked like a zombie. Four hours of sleep, energy drinks for breakfast, and now stuck working the concession stand at my brother's baseball tournament. The synthetic vitamins I'd choked down that morning weren't doing squat.

"You good, Maya?" Jace asked, leaning against the counter. He smelled like sunscreen and that indefinable boy scent that made my brain short-circuit.

"Totally," I lied. "Just living my best life."

He laughed. "You're paler than the team mascot."

Speaking of—the giant bear costume was already sweltering in the morning heat. I'd agreed to wear it for extra credit, which had seemed like a good idea before temperature hit ninety. Now I was questioning every life choice that led here.

"You're up next inning," Jace said. "Try not to melt."

No promises.

The bear suit smelled like junior high boys and desperation. I waddled to the dugout, overheating already, watching my brother step up to the plate. He'd been working on his swing all summer, vitamins and protein shakes and midnight practices. He was everything I wasn't: focused, driven, actually good at stuff.

CRACK. The ball sailed toward the fence.

Then everything blurred. The heat, the exhaustion, the bear—I went down hard, head bouncing off the packed dirt.

"Maya!" Jace's voice cut through the haze.

Water splashed my face. Cool, perfect water. I gasped, sitting up to find Jace kneeling beside me, pouring from a sports bottle. The bear head had fallen off, my hair was everywhere, and every player from both teams was staring.

"You fainted," Jace said, like I couldn't tell. "Straight up zombie collapse."

My brother ran over. "Maya, you idiot, you were supposed to wave at the crowd, not become the entertainment."

Jace helped me stand, his hand steadying my elbow. "You okay?"

"Actually," I said, wiping water from my face, "yeah. I think I am."

Because right now, in the middle of my most embarrassing moment ever, Jace Carter was looking at me like I was interesting. Not weird, not his best friend's awkward sister. Interesting.

"Good," he said. "Because someone needs to teach me how to actually hit the ball."

Behind me, my brother whooped. "Finally! Even the bear gets more action than me!"

I laughed. Maybe this summer wouldn't be so bad after all.