Page 48 of The Perfect Game

The topic changed, and I breathed a sigh of relief. Ben was a good learning experience when it came to relationships.

My parents had tried to make up for forgetting about my birthday on Friday with tickets to Europe over Christmas. As much as I’d always wanted to go there, I refused. I didn’t want huge gifts to sway my sympathy. I wanted time. Time spent doing things together. I just hoped they would figure that out before I left for college.

The girls talked about Kate getting asked to homecoming already, and a pang of envy hit me that I wasn’t going. I mean, we hadn’t even started school yet and guys were fighting over her. I guess that was a perk, or a curse, of being the student body president. There would be other dances, and I just had to get past this last heartbreak before I could focus on all that. With volleyball in full swing, I had plenty to keep me occupied during the day. It was the night that was the hardest.

Thirty-Two

Ben

I’d been a wreck the last two weeks. Having to dress up in slacks with a button-up shirt and tie to sit behind a desk all day was probably the most boring thing I’d ever done. When I got home, I’d spend the rest of my awake time outside throwing pitches against the net. I’d managed to throw enough balls in the right spots to help my brain somewhat, at least enough to make it through each day. Baseball would always be there, or at least for the next few years, even if Serena wouldn’t.

And now I stood on the mound in the championship game of the biggest tournament of the summer, the excitement of my teammates coursing through me as we took on one of the top-ranked teams in the state.

I’d made it through the first three innings without allowing anyone on base, thanks to a couple of key plays by Jake at short and a diving catch from Logan out in left. We were up to bat, waiting for a player on the other team to get checked out after a line drive to the knee.

“Did you ask Penny to homecoming?” Colt asked, leaning on the top of the bar separating the dugout from the field. He was staring at Jake, and I turned, curious of the answer. Jake had a fear of dances since one of his good friends had died in a drunk-driving accident after prom eighteen months before.

He shook his head. “I haven’t yet, but I’m going to. What about you guys? Are you asking anyone?” He looked at Colt and then me, raising an eyebrow in question.

Colt grimaced. “I’ve been thinking about taking a girl from one of my classes last year. I kind of wish homecoming wasn’t so early this year. Two weeks after school starts isn’t enough time to get to know people.”

I laughed at Colt’s look of frustration over something as simple as a date.

“What about you, Clark? Are you going to ask Serena?” Jake stared at me, no hint of teasing in his tone or expression.

“I can’t do that. She broke up with me. Wouldn’t that look clingy if I ask her now?”

Jake slapped my shoulder. “No, if anything, maybe she’ll see how much you still like her.”

“I don’t.” The lie tasted sour on my tongue, and I turned toward the field, watching as the trainer helped the second baseman stand.

“Just keep telling yourself that, Ben.”

We were out on the field after a fly ball hit by our first baseman, and I zoned in, digging down into all the practice sessions I’d had over the past couple of weeks.

Pitch after pitch aimed at the right spots, and I was on my way to a career high number of strikeouts. With two outs in the seventh inning, I breathed deeply, trying to let go of the pressure. I hadn’t let anyone get a hit the whole game, and I just needed to finish it off now.

The batter fouled off the first two pitches. I threw the next pitch just off the plate for a ball. As Dax gave me the sign for a slider to the outside, I took in a deep breath and threw. Time slowed down, and the ball seemed to inch toward the plate. The batter leaned over and swung, missing low. I waited to see if Dax still held on to the ball, meaning it was the third and final out of the inning and of the game.

My teammates rushed to the mound, piling on top of me and yelling.

“Dude! A perfect game! You threw a perfect game!” Jake was yelling right into my ear.

I finally made it out of the pack, excited about the achievement that few pitchers record.

As we waited for the awards to be given, I stood on the third baseline, staring into the crowd. I saw my mom and dad, with Daniel clapping right next to them. My mom looked like she was crying, and for once, my dad’s smile in my direction looked genuine. But the one person I wanted there, sitting next to my family and cheering me on, wasn’t.

“What’s wrong, man?” Dax asked out of the corner of his mouth. “You were lights out. I bet you’ll remember this forever. I know I will.”

I glanced over at him before turning my eyes back to the announcer, trying to figure out what to say. With a nod, I forced a smile. “I’m just…” I let the words trail off, still unsure of how to phrase it. This was one of the moments I’d worked so hard for, to achieve something like this, and yet, it still didn’t feel like enough.

After all the hours of practicing, all the time spent thinking about how to get better and what drills I needed to do, all to get to this moment. It didn’t have the same thrill I thought it would, and the disappointment was so strong, making it hard to breathe.

But as I raised my gaze to look back into the stands, the weight of the quest for perfection pressed down even more. I’d given up a job I excelled at and a girl I loved to chase this dream, and now I understood how much I’d lost because of it. And it needed to change.

There was no way I would ever be able to live up to my dad’s legacy of valedictorian and all the other things he’d accomplished in his life, but I didn’t want that. I wanted to go back to playing the sport I loved but in a way that didn’t consume all my free time. I missed working at the clinic. Sitting behind a desk for the rest of my life was not something I could do day after day.

And I wanted to get Serena back, needed to get her back and tell her that I’d been an idiot to think that perfection was the only way she’d accept the real me.

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