Page 53

DEAD BALL

JAXON

A temporary break in play, usually indicated by the umpire.

I’m trying to focus on Professor Chen’s lecture about cognitive biases, but all I can think about is Camdyn slipping on my baseball hoodie and sneaking out of my room this morning.

The way she kissed me goodbye, fighting a smile.

The way I wanted to pull her back into bed and forget class even existed.

“Yo, Baseball Boy!”

Speaking of cognitive biases, here comes Fork Guy, shuffling down the aisle and dropping into the seat beside me. He’s wearing the most bedazzled eye patch I’ve ever seen—like Claire’s Jewelry store exploded on his face.

“Nice patch,” I whisper, side-eyeing him as his backpack thuds to the floor. “Very pirate chic.”

Pause here. You’re probably wondering what Fork Guy actually looks like. Picture T.J. Miller in Deadpool, add a bejeweled eye patch and they could be twins.

“Thanks!” he says, grinning wide enough to show the gap where his left canine used to be.

“The ER nurse said to keep it covered, but she didn’t specify how fabulous the covering needed to be.

” He adjusts the patch with a flourish, and I finally spot the tiny plastic forks glued around the edge, wobbling as he turns.

“So, how’s Bush Girl's chin? Did you two, you know…” He wiggles his fingers in a way that’s supposed to be suggestive, but looks more like he’s casting a spell.

“Are you asking if we hooked up or if we’re having a medical emergency?” I deadpan, raising an eyebrow.

“Duhhhh.”

He didn’t answer me, did he? “That’s none of your business.” I roll my eyes, but I’m grinning anyway, sliding a little lower in the hard plastic chair. “She’s fine. The chin’s healing.”

“And the emotional forks? Did those get... addressed?” He waggles his eyebrow, leaning in conspiratorially.

Before I can answer, Emerald—aka Crystal Girl—floats into the row ahead, trailing patchouli and jangling bracelets.

Her usual pile of healing stones and tarot cards covers her desk as she arranges everything with laser focus.

Fork Guy straightens so fast I hear his neck crack, his good eye fixed on her.

“Dude,” he hisses, clutching my sleeve. “Help a brother out. What’s a good line for a girl who’s into spiritual stuff?”

“Please don’t,” I mutter, trying to focus on lecture notes.

“No, seriously. I need some rizz. Some game. Some fork-free charm.” He’s grinning like an overcaffeinated raccoon.

“I don't think?—”

“Hey, Emerald,” he calls out, ignoring me. “Did it hurt when you fell from heaven? Because I’m sensing some celestial energy in your aura.”

Oh god.

Emerald looks up from her crystal grid, her mouth a thin line of confusion as she pushes her glasses up her nose. “Actually, Mercury is in retrograde, so all celestial energy is currently misaligned.”

Fork Guy turns to me, panic flaring in his one visible eye. “What does that mean? Is that good? Should I get my chakras checked?” His voice is barely above a whisper, desperate.

I pull out my phone and text Camdyn under the desk, trying not to laugh.

Jaxon

911

Fork Guy is trying to hit on Crystal Girl

He just asked about her celestial energy

Send help

Camdyn

NOOO

Please tell me he's still wearing the bedazzled eye patch

It has tiny forks glued to it now

I wish I was kidding

Where do you even find tiny forks??

“Hey,” Fork Guy nudges me, voice dropping to a stage whisper, “what about this: ‘Baby, you must be a healing crystal because you’re making all my negative energy disappear.'"

My shoulders shake. I snort, trying to hide it as a cough, slouching even lower in my chair. “Bro, that's somehow worse.”

Ask him if he’s tried eating ramen right-side up

Might improve his game

“Emerald,” Fork Guy tries again, twisting so his fork-patch catches the lights, “I couldn’t help but notice your tarot cards. Want to do a reading on our future together?”

Emerald doesn’t even look up. “The cards say you need to work on your root chakra,” she says, deadpan.

He taps her on the shoulder, then quickly pulls his hand back when she glares. “Umm… Is that… is that good?” His voice is hopeful, but his fingers fidget nervously with his backpack strap.

I text Camdyn again:

He just asked about her root chakra

I don't think he knows what that means

OMG at least he’s not trying to eat upside down this time

“So,” Fork Guy whispers, unfazed by the steady stream of rejection, “how are things with Bush Girl? Did my fork metaphor help? Did you guys, you know…” He makes that weird gesture again, this time with a plastic fork held like a magic wand.

“Are you having a stroke? Should I be concerned?”

“Don’t deflect. I saw the way you looked at her in the ER. Like she was the last packet of ramen in the dining hall.” His fork drops with a soft clink onto the desk.

“That’s... that’s not romantic at all.”

“Speaking of romance,” he perks up, glancing at Emerald as she pulls out sage and starts fanning smoke across her crystals, “hey, Em, is that sage in your pocket or are you just happy to see me?”

The entire class goes silent. Professor Chen stops mid-lecture, chalk frozen halfway to the board. Even the guy who’s been asleep since syllabus week lifts his head, blinking.

Updateee

He just used a sage pickup line

I’m transferring schools

Tell him to try ‘Are you a parking meter? Because I’d feed you quarters all night long’

Professor Chen sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Mr. Fork Incident, would you like to share your insights on cognitive dissonance with the class?”

Fork Guy straightens, clearing his throat with theatrical importance.

“Actually,” he declares, “I have some firsthand experience with that. See, last night I tried to eat ramen while doing a handstand, which clearly demonstrated the conflict between my desire for adventure and my basic understanding of physics…”

I text Camdyn again:

He’s giving a presentation on how his fork incident relates to cognitive dissonance

I think he might actually be a genius

A genius who can’t eat ramen properly

I smile. I can’t help it. I send a picture of Fork Guy waving his hands around to the professor.

I can’t wait for you to get back from Utah

Even with your busted chin

She sends a picture of her bruised and busted chin.

Shut up

That was your fault

MY fault??

you were stalking meee

remember??

If you weren't so hot in baseball pants I wouldn't have been in those bushes

just sayinnn

ahh ok so this is my fault

i seee

“And that’s why,” Fork Guy finally concludes what I realize has been a five-minute speech, “sometimes you have to ask yourself: Is the ramen worth the fork? Is the metaphorical parking meter worth the quarters? Are the emotional utensils serving their purpose, or are they just taking up space in your psychological silverware drawer?”

There’s a beat—a long, stunned silence. The air hums with fluorescent light and surprise. Then Emerald, of all people, starts clapping slowly, her silver rings glinting.

Fork Guy turns to me, beaming, sitting up so straight his patch nearly pops off. “Did you see that? She clapped! That’s basically a marriage proposal in some cultures.”

I stare at my phone. “Pretty sure it’s not.”

He leans back, folding his arms with smug satisfaction. “Just wait,” he says, adjusting his fork-covered eye patch with a flourish. “By midterms, she’ll be reading my tea leaves.”

I think Fork Guy accidentally got an A in Psych while trying to hit on Crystal Girl

Modern day Shakespeare

With utensils

FRR

“You’re texting Bush Girl, aren’t you?” Fork Guy asks, somehow managing to read my upside-down phone. “I can tell by that stupid smile. You know, that’s the same look Patricia the parking meter gives the quarter slot when?—”

“Please stop talking,” I say, trying not to laugh.

“I can’t. It’s impossible. Also, can you ask Bush Girl if she knows any good crystal puns? I’m thinking of leaving some healing stones in Emerald’s backpack. Romantically.”

“That’s called stalking.”

“No, that’s called being proactive. Stalking is hiding in bushes and face-planting into concrete.”

He’s got me there. “Says the guy who climbed three floors up a fire escape to spy on Rebecca.”

He points a crystal—definitely stolen from Emerald’s desk—at me, dead serious. “Hey, that was different. Rebecca was giving her TA private Spanish lessons at midnight. Who studies conjugation that late? Nobody, that’s who.”

I raise a suspicious eyebrow, letting the silence hang for a second. “Maybe she knew you’d try something like that?”

“Please,” he scoffs, waving the crystal dismissively. “Rebecca didn’t know anything. Except apparently how to conjugate Spanish verbs in multiple positions—” He stops, cheeks coloring. “I mean, tenses. Multiple tenses.”

I text Camdyn again because she needs to know this.

Fork Guy’s still not over Rebecca

The Spanish tutor??

Apparently she’s very good at conjugation

OMG stop??

“You know what your problem is?” Fork Guy continues, now squinting at Emerald’s abandoned tea leaves and holding them up to the light, “You’re overthinking everything with Bush Girl. Meanwhile, I’m out here living my best life, spreading love and plastic utensils across campus.”

“You literally have an eye patch made of forks.”

“It’s called fashion, Baseball Boy. Look it up. Also, these tea leaves definitely say Emerald’s into me. Unless that’s a coffee stain.” He squints, turning the cup sideways, tongue poking out in concentration. “Hard to tell with one eye.”

“You’re strange,” I tell him, flipping my phone over in my lap.

He shrugs, loose and content. “You know, sometimes love is like eating ramen upside down—messy, probably ill-advised, but hey, at least you’ll have a good story for Psych class. Just maybe avoid fire escapes and security cameras.”

He’s speaking facts.

Professor Chen traps his knuckles against the whiteboard. “All right, everyone. If I can have your attention—yes, even you, Mr. Fork Incident—let’s talk about your next assignment.”

Groans ripple through the room like a bad group text. I prop my chin on my hand, waiting for the catch.

“This will be a partner project,” Professor Chen continues, “analyzing a real-world example of cognitive bias in everyday life. You’ll submit a written report and give a short presentation together. I expect creativity. And, you know, effort.”

Fork Guy’s hand shoots into the air with the speed of someone trying to win a radio contest. “Can we pick our partners?”

Professor Chen sighs. “Yes. But I reserve the right to veto any ‘dynamic duos’ if things get too... lively.”

Fork Guy spins in his seat, locking his one good eye on me like I’m the last slice of pizza at a frat party. “Dibs on Baseball Boy!” he declares, loud enough that half the class turns to stare.

I blink. “Can I have a different partner?”

He’s already grinning, clearly delighted with himself. “Come on, man. We’re basically a team already. You’ve got the brains, I’ve got the... forks? Plus, I have a killer idea about doing our project on why people keep eating instant noodles despite the warning labels.”

Professor Chen’s lips twitch like he’s fighting a smile. “As long as you both agree, that’s fine. Just—please—no live demonstrations. And no fire escapes.”

Fork Guy elbows me, his eye patch glinting. “Bro. We’re gonna crush this. I call dibs on presentation slides.”

I shake my head, but I can’t help grinning. “Only if you promise not to bring props.”

He winks. “No promises.”

After class, Fork Guy’s still plotting his crystal-based courtship when Inez appears out of nowhere, her footsteps muffled by the grubby blue carpet.

She’s wearing what I can only describe as a cardigan that looks like a thrift store exploded on it, paired with those infamous orange leggings.

Her thick black glasses are slightly askew, and she’s clutching her journalist notebook like a shield.

“Jaxon,” she starts, voice tentative as she adjusts her glasses in that nervous way. “Can we talk?”

Fork Guy, bless him, immediately picks up on the tension. “Oh look, Emerald’s doing a tarot reading by the water fountain! This is my moment.” He practically sprints away, his bedazzled eye patch catching the fluorescent lights like a disco ball.

“Sure,” I sigh, already tired. “Look, Inez?—”

“You just left the other day,” she cuts in, twirling a strand of black hair around her finger, eyes darting everywhere but my face. “What happened?”

“Oh, well, Cam was bleeding,” I point out, trying not to sound as annoyed as I feel. “Sorry about that.”

“So you and Camdyn are talking again?” She tries to sound casual but misses by a mile, flipping open her notebook as if she’s about to interview me for the school paper.

“We’re…” What are we? Making bad decisions? Getting stitches? Conducting muscle memory experiments? “It’s complicated.”

“I thought you told me you couldn’t do relationships right now,” she presses, her grip tightening on her pen. Maybe she’s about to stab me with it. “You said baseball was your priority and?—”

“Inez.” I cut her off before this turns into another one of her deep-dive articles. “I meant what I said. I’m sorry things ended suddenly, but I’m not in a place for... whatever you’re looking for.”

She adjusts her glasses again, this time with a shaky breath. “Oh. Okay.”

I try to be gentle but firm. “I can’t have a relationship and give what I need to baseball, so I’m sorry for ghosting you, but it’s how it is with me right now. I’m sorry if I led you on.”

“But you and Camdyn?—”

“Are none of your business,” I finish, probably too sharply, judging by how she flinches. I soften my voice. "Sorry, that came out wrong.”

From across the quad, Fork Guy’s voice rings out, “THE CARDS SAY WE’RE DESTINED TO BE TOGETHER, EMERALD!”

Followed by Emerald: “THAT’S THE DEATH CARD!”

A beat. The wind stirs, and Fork Guy bellows, “DEATH OF MY LONELY ERA, MAYBE!”

For a second, no one moves. Then, thankfully, Inez tucks her notebook under her arm and walks away, shoulders hunched.

I pull out my phone when it buzzes. “What a weird day,” I mumble, heading for the athletic hall for our second practice.

Camdyn

Fork Guy texted me about destiny

Should I be concerned?

How’d he get my number??

He’s trying to seduce Crystal Girl with tarot cards

I think he stole it from my phone somehow

In the distance, Fork Guy appears to be laying out crystals in the shape of a heart while Emerald sage-smudges the entire area.

Just another Tuesday at UW. At least we’re not getting alerts about a guy with a machete again. Though, that was an interesting day.