Page 1 of Baseball and Shifters

Rachel

10 years ago

Racing down the stairs, my footsteps echo through the foyer as I run for the kitchen. I slide across the tiled floor, rounding the final corner into the berry-and-syrup-scented room. Today is my birthday, and I know Ms. Coleman will have a big plate of blueberry pancakes just for me. When I make it to my favorite breakfast spot, a stool at the island in the middle of the big kitchen, where I can watch Ms. Coleman work, I'm not disappointed.

I dash over and throw my arms around Ms. Coleman's middle. Her kind eyes gleam as she looks down, shooting me a smile and hugging me back. She may not be my grandma, but I've alwayswished she could be. Ms. Coleman is the nicest grown up I have ever met.

“Good morning and happy birthday, sweet girl,” she says, as she pats my head.

“Good morning, Ms. Coleman.” I give her one more big squeeze and then let her go.

“Wow, the big one-oh, I can't believe you're already ten. Before you know it, you'll be as old as me,” she chuckles. “Now go eat your pancakes before they get cold.”

I make my way back to where my amazing stack of yummy pancakes sits and hop up on my chair. It doesn’t take long before I’m scooping the last of the blueberry pancakes off of my plate and into my mouth.

Ms. Coleman’s chuckle draws my attention to where she stands near the stove. I take the napkin from beside my plate, wipe my face, then grab my glass of milk and take a big drink.

“That was sooo yummy! Thank you for making blueberry pancakes, they’re my favorite!”

“I know, sweet girl, that’s why I made them. So, what are your plans for the day?”

I want to respond to her question, but I can’t because something weird is going on inside me.

It feels like someone else is in my mind, like I’m worried and excited all at once.

Then it hits me.

My tiger is here!

I thought it didn’t happen until I was sixteen, but I can feel her spinning and yipping in my head. If I focus on her, I can almost see her, tiny and red orange.

But where are her stripes?

I look up at Ms. Coleman, barely able to contain my excitement. She’s still watching me, waiting for my answer to her question.

“Guess what?” I whisper-shout at her.

She’s a little startled by my question, but still responds, “What?”

“My tiger is here!” I yell out.

I’m shocked when Ms. Coleman's face is sad and maybe scared instead of happy like me. She quickly crosses the kitchen towards the pantry before opening it and grabbing a picnic basket from inside. Without a word, she begins packing it with picnic supplies. I’m still confused by why she is acting like this, but I don’t say anything because something is obviously wrong. It doesn’t take too long before she has the basket slung on her arm, standing at the door that leads out back, signaling for me to follow.

We’re about halfway across the huge backyard when my patience wears out.

“Where are we going, Ms. Coleman? Why are you acting weird? What’s wrong?” I don’t want to whine, but I am.

It’s hard not to when the baby tiger in my brain is yipping and hopping around like a crazy person. Ms. Coleman turns, and I think I see a tear in her eye before she quickly swipes it away. She pulls me in for a quick hug before she responds.

“Shh, child, just come with me. We’re going to have a birthday picnic, and I’ll explain everything.” With that, she turns away from me and again we’re walking quickly to the forest's edge.

The second we get beyond the tree line, my tiger doubles her efforts to drive me insane.

I fall to my knees and clamp my hands around my head, internally begging her to stop.

Something I do must work because she calms down enough that I can think again.

When I look up, I’m shocked to see that Ms. Coleman now towers over me. Looking at my feet, I try to understand what I’m seeing. I’m even more surprised by the four white paws I findthere instead of my usual favorite sparkly pink sneakers. It takes me longer than it should to realize I’ve shifted because these are not the paws I expected.

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