Page 2 of The Perfect Play

We walked into class and took our seats at the back of the room, ready for choir to begin. Why they had choir so early in the morning, I’ll never understand. My voice never sounded normal until closer to lunch.

“Do you want to go grab food with us after the game tonight?” Serena asked. The girls basketball team had made it to the semi-finals, and Brynn was the starting center. Kate had to go to the game as one of the student body officers for Rosemont High, and Serena just loved any excuse to get out of the house since the volleyball season had wrapped up.

“Raincheck? I have tryouts after school, and then I have to work at the diner.”

Kate frowned. “Good luck today. We should do something this weekend when you’re free. Or are you working all weekend too?”

“That would be fun. I get next week’s schedule tonight, so I’ll let you know.” It wasn’t the first time I’d gotten the third degree from my friends. The only other one of us with a job was Hazel, but her hours were more flexible. My job was necessary to just survive. My father barely made enough to allow us to keep living in the home we had, which meant any school fees, softball fees, gas and insurance, or minor expenses that came up were my responsibility.

There were times when I wished my life could be as simple as theirs, as simple as it was when my mother was living with us, her job making her the breadwinner. But those feelings usually fled as soon as I remembered what she’d done to us.

The pit in my stomach formed, and I bit the corner of my lip harder than I should have. We were doing just fine without her, and it wasn’t possible to put a price on the peace that came with minimal fighting in the house.

I went through my success checklist for the future, hoping it would help ease the anxiety pulling me in different directions:

1. Pass my AP tests in four months.

2. Get seen by college coaches this summer.

3. Get a scholarship.

4. Help kids of divorced parents as a family therapist.

I felt better. Having something in my control to cling to made a world of difference. I could study enough to pass those classes. I could practice enough to impress college coaches. And I was willing to put in the time to become the best therapist there was. The only thing out of my control was the scholarship, but if I gave it my all, then something was sure to come through. At least, that’s what I continued to tell myself.

Mrs. Dublin began class with our usual warm-up routine, and I tried to focus on the sounds, hoping it would ease my anxiety about tryouts later. I’d never worried like this with the last coach we’d had, but Coach Ambrose’s reputation as the softball coach at Pecan Flatts, one of our rival high schools, was that she was strict and tough on her players. I could handle all that, but if she played favorites and Tammy Starling got to pitch over me, I could kiss broken records and my jersey hanging in the trophy case goodbye.

Everything would work out. It had to.

Chapter 2

Jake

Pulling into the parking lot of the school as the last bell rang, my brain worked to map out the shortest route to my first-period class. Hopefully, I wouldn’t get caught by an administrator. I already had enough tardies to last until the end of time, and while I knew I was going to have to work them off at some point, it didn’t motivate me to get to class on time.

Walking through the locker-room door, I checked both directions before darting out far enough to swing around the handrail and onto the stairs to my history class upstairs. Maybe luck was working in my favor today because I moved into the classroom when Ms. Lovell had her back turned. There were a few snickers, but I tried to keep my face neutral, hoping she wouldn’t notice I’d just shown up.

“Will someone please tell me the difference between the Baroque and the Victorian eras?” Ms. Lovell asked, turning around to face the class.

“If it ain’t Baroque, don’t fix it,” I mumbled.

The students around me who’d heard it chuckled along as the teacher’s eyes narrowed in on me. Her lips formed a tight line, and she looked as though I’d already started pushing buttons I shouldn’t have. “Thank you, Mr. White, for actually joining us at a more normal time. Would you like to repeat what you just said?”

I raised a hand, slouching into my seat even more. “I’m good.”

Her laser eyes seemed to bore into me for another few seconds before moving to the hand raised on the other side of the room. “Yes, Kara.”

I shook my head, wishing I could be back in my comfortable king-sized bed, dreaming about anything but being here. Only a few more hours until baseball, which I could handle. It was the only thing keeping me sane these days, and I couldn’t wait for a little batting practice. There was nothing better than feeling the ball connect with the bat just right and go sailing over the fence.

Class ended soon enough, and then lunch passed with little fanfare. A few of the guys and I grabbed some drive-thru food at one of the local restaurants and ate it on the way back to the school.

Dax Stratton had driven, and I was riding up front, with Ben, Nate, and Colt in back. “What do you think Coach Maddox will have us do today?” Dax asked, turning down the radio a few notches.

“Probably make us run ’til we puke. Isn’t that what we had to do last year for tryouts?” Ben Clark was our ace pitcher and one of the reasons we’d made it so far in the state tournament the year before.

“Don’t say that,” I said between bites of my bacon cheeseburger. “I don’t need to taste all this coming back up.” I pointed to the food in my hand, and the guys chuckled.

Nate Everton, a sophomore and the youngest of the group, patted his stomach. “This iron stomach can handle whatever Coach deals us today.”

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