Page 3 of The Perfect Game

Another paper? “Are you sure you don’t want me to sketch something or paint a still-life or anything?” Why was I trying to negotiate my non-existent art talents? As I thought about the essay, it was probably because I wasn’t good at expressing myself on paper either. That’s why I loved equations so much. The answer wasn’t subjective to what other people thought.

Ms. Tibbs threw her head back and laughed. “I’m sorry, Serena, but I don’t think you’d actually earn points from those things.”

Point taken. “Okay, okay, I’ll do the paper.”

“Good luck.”

I turned away, wishing I didn’t have such pressure to go to this play. But if it was going to let me play volleyball, I had to make the effort. Losing the sport I loved was not an option.

Two

Ben

I groaned, thinking of all the things I had to get done before I could sleep that night. I’d made it through the first part of the day and was heading to lunch after retrieving the notebook I’d left during second period, when I bumped into Serena Gates. It was the second time I’d seen her in a matter of minutes, and as much as I wanted to say something more interesting than “Are you okay?”—I got tongue-tied and my brain just sort of stopped, hesitating before helping her up.

It hadn’t helped that her dark-brown hair hung over her shoulders as her blue eyes pulled me in. I’d seen her from afar ever since Jake and Penny had started hanging out, but my attraction for her had grown over the past few weeks.

I could have at least tried to come up with something cool to say, but instead, I freaked out and walked away. What would Jake or Dax say in that situation? It seemed like they always knew exactly what to say to girls, while I tended to clam up and feel like an awkward tower, especially with girls much shorter than me. She didn’t even reach my shoulder.

But the more I learned about her, the more I knew I didn’t stand a chance. She was one of those girls who went out with a lot of guys but the relationships never lasted. I’d never had a girlfriend before, but I was pretty sure if I ever got dumped, I’d be a wreck. That sort of rejection was as bad as getting a home run hit off my slider, my usual best pitch, to lose the championship game.

Mr. Kendall droned on, and my hand twitched. I was anxious to get to practice so I could get my slider on point for the game the next day. I hadn’t been able to get it to work for the last three days, even though I’d put in an extra hour of practice each day, throwing to a net when Dax left.

“Here are the results of your latest papers,” Mr. Kendall said, bringing me back to the present. He strolled up the aisle next to mine, handing out the essays we’d written on Ernest Hemingway. As he made his way back down the row where I sat, my stomach clenched. I’d struggled writing it, but I needed at least an A- to pull my grade up. I’d blown the chance to follow in my father’s footsteps as valedictorian the semester before, but the pressure was still on to perform.

The paper landed on my desk, the large red letter causing the air to leave my lungs. B.

The bell rang, and I stuffed the paper in my backpack, barely hearing my teacher say something about seeing a play for extra credit. It would be torturous but necessary.

But now it was time for baseball. Once I figured out my slider, the tightness in my chest would ease, and the benefit was that I could go a whole practice not saying more than the pitches I wanted to throw. “Slider. Off-speed. Fast.”

If only I’d known what to say to Serena the one time I actually had a chance to talk to her. When Jake and Penny were together, our groups kind of hung out, but the window for talking to her always closed a second or two before I got up the courage to say anything.

The locker room was already humid, steam coming from the showers from the kids just getting out of gym. My skin was already sticky, and I knew it was only going to get worse as practice went on in the Texas heat. I pulled off my t-shirt and threw on my practice jersey, trying not to let my awkwardness with Serena run through my mind over and over again, analyzing every part. I know people say girls overanalyze, but there have been times when I probably could have won that battle.

“What’s wrong with you, man?” Dax asked, slapping me on the back. The impact was harder than I expected, and I had to put my arms out to catch myself from slamming my face into the locker.

“Nothing. Just a long day of school, you know?” I turned, hoping to keep my feelings invisible from him. I knew my friends could read me like a book, and so far I’d managed to keep my little crush on Serena a secret. They might not care now that Jake and Penny were dating, and since Serena was good friends with Penny, they might even push the idea. But then I’d actually have to talk to her. In full sentences.

What girl liked a kid who could only say a handful of words before his tongue twisted and his brain shut down? I’m sure some girls thought I had an impediment of some sort. Nope, just an overactive brain that called into question every move I made.

Jake walked around the corner of the line of lockers and groaned. “Who’s ready to die in the heat today?”

I’d been too distracted to even check the weather for the afternoon. But in true Texas fashion, it would be sweltering hot with a side of humidity, making it difficult to focus on anything during practice. This was one of those times when I would be willing to have practice before school, just to get some relief from the heat.

“What are you talking about?” Dax asked, throwing Jake a look of disbelief. “You’re not the one who has to add all the catching gear on top of our practice uniform for three hours.”

“True. But it’s still hot. We better remind the freshmen to fill up the water. I’d hate for heatstroke to set in.” Jake wasn’t the team captain, but he may as well have been from the change he’d made over the past few weeks. Ever since prom, he’d been happier than I’d ever seen him, and way more responsible.

I tucked in my practice jersey and buttoned up my baseball pants. My pulse raced as I hurried to get out of the locker room, everything seeming to close in on me with my friends right there. If only I could get Serena out of my brain, I wouldn’t feel so flustered.

“I’ll go tell them.” Before they could say anything, I grabbed my hat and bag from the bench, running down the middle of the aisle of lockers.

Clicking through the mental list of all the things I needed to get done that night didn’t help get rid of the apple-cinnamon scent I’d smelled on Serena when we collided.

I made it to the end aisle of lockers where most of the freshmen were getting ready. “Hey, guys. Make sure we get enough water for today. It’s going to be hot.”

Hearing the groans already, I turned and walked out the locker room doors by the parking lot. From there I turned right, walking down to the field. I was earlier than normal, but I needed to get some kind of movement going through me or else I’d just picture the scene between the brunette volleyball player and my awkwardness over and over again.

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