Page 1 of The Perfect Hit

1

Colt

Baseball was life.

At least that’s how it felt right now. The smells of the grass and dirt, along with the crack of the bat and the snap of the ball as it hit the glove, were all like the soundtrack to my life. It meant I had the chance to hang out with some of my best friends since they all played.

Well, except for Hazel. She was the opposite of athletic, but her flair for the stage could probably rival my happiness over how the Elite Baseball Camp had gone.

I threw my bat bag and duffle bag in the storage area underneath the bus. It had been a whirlwind few days, but the time spent at the camp two hours north of Pecan Flatts, Texas, had been awesome. Two days of intense instruction, and I’d learned a lot from the camp directors. Being there with several of my teammates was an added bonus. Our goal was to win the state championship this year, and with the kind of chemistry we’d had just in the past couple of days, my hopes were high.

One of the best things about the camp was being able to study the other top baseball players in our region, allowing me to gain new insight and skills that way. I’d grown up thinking there was only one way to do everything, but from all I’d learned in the past year about life, there was no right way.

Nate getting together with Brynn was something I hadn’t seen coming. And the rest of the guys dating their girlfriends? It just showed how much a person could change. But it wasn’t that easy for me and relationships. I had been crushing on Hazel since she moved into town from Buffalo, New York, last summer.

The hardest part was I’d been too chicken to say anything to her, hoping to not mess up the fun relationship we had with awkwardness, and I was pretty sure she still didn’t know I liked her. Which was good and bad.

“Great job, Buttars,” one of the coaches said as I got onto the bus. “Just keep up those drills and you’ll be launching the ball.”

I nodded and smiled. “I hope so.”

My swing just wasn’t working. No matter what I did, it seemed like I just couldn’t connect to the ball like I had last season. I’d tried to keep myself happy about how well I’d done in the fielding aspect, but that still didn’t help. In baseball, there was only one designated hitter, and that was usually so the pitcher didn’t have to hit. If I couldn’t get my swing going, it wouldn’t matter how well I played in the field.

As much as I loved being at a place where we just ate, played, and slept baseball, I was ready to get back home. My three brothers gave me a hard time about all the things, but they were some pretty awesome friends when the hard stuff hit. And I wanted to see Hazel, but keeping that to myself was the easiest. Nobody needed to know right now.

I grabbed a seat next to Nate and Logan. Jake, Dax, and Ben were all in the rows behind us.

“Are you ready for the two-hour ride home?” Nate asked, sliding down into his seat.

Logan nodded. “My phone’s all charged up. I have to enjoy this time without chores.”

I laughed, agreeing with that. My parents thought Saturdays were for yard work and chores when we weren’t playing sports, and since I was away the day before, I’d probably be doing them when I got home. Logan lived in the outskirts of Pecan Flatts on a large working ranch, and I could only imagine how much work went into taking care of it. He had a lot of quirks, but he was a great player and came with a lot of humor.

“Do you even get cell service out on your ranch?” I asked, giving him a little slug in the shoulder.

“Of course we do,” Logan said, frowning. “I live, like, three miles from you, Colt. You just wish you had as much land as we do.”

I shook my head, knowing what acres of land equaled in the Buttars family. Any spare moment we got, we were outside working on some part of the yard or fixing up a remodel of our house. I didn’t need the work to be exponential.

My dad had always taught us that hard work had to be learned and there was always something to do to keep us out of trouble. I could understand that. When my brothers and I got bored, that usually translated into fist fights or a bet to do something outrageous.

“I'm good,” I said. “I've got enough on my plate at home.”

“So what should we do?” Logan asked.

Nate fluffed his pillow and leaned it back against the glass. “We’re going to take a nap.”

The idea sounded awesome, but as I closed my eyes, my brain decided to speed up, shooting random scenarios through my mind to keep me alert.

We were heading home on a Sunday, a week before Valentine’s Day. When I'd left, my dad had been welding several pieces of metal together, but I hadn't asked what it was for. Possibly another iron flower for my mother’s garden. He worked in one of the factories close by, and it seemed like we had more metal structures in our yard than the whole rest of the neighborhood combined.

“Can't sleep either, huh?” Logan said, peeking through the two seats. I turned to look at him in the row behind me, shaking my head.

After a yawn, I said, “You had some sweet plays this weekend in the outfield. Do you think this will be our year?” I kept my voice low, knowing there were kids from other teams on the bus and I didn’t want to start a fight.

Our team had tried to take the state title for the past several years, and we just kept coming up short. Last year was closer at fifth, but number one was the goal.

“If we don't do it now, I don't know if we’ll be able to next year,” Logan said. It was the first serious answer I'd gotten from him since we’d headed out for the camp.

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