Page 11 of The Perfect Hit

A fork clanked against the plate, and I looked up to see my father’s fingers intertwined. “How are grades coming?” He raised his eyebrows at all of us, and I watched as Nash looked away groaning.

My father was the biggest sports fanatic there was, and nothing gave him more pride than to watch us play the game we loved. But he and my mother had instituted a rule when Sterling was old enough to start playing more competitively. In order to play sports, we had to have above a 3.5 GPA. I understood why he had the rule, since he wanted us to do something else besides getting stuck in a factory for the rest of our lives, but it was difficult sometimes to keep juggling all the balls in the air.

“Mine are good. I might need to do some extra credit in art, but everything else should be fine.” I took a bite of the asparagus, trying not to think about how weird the texture was.

“You could always ask your drama girlfriend,” Wyatt said, stabbing a piece of chicken. “I’m sure she’d cast you in her play to get that extra credit.”

My brothers all laughed, and I scowled at my youngest brother. “Leave it alone, Wyatt.”

“What? Do you want to be a performer?” Sterling asked, staring at me.

“No,” I said, trying to be convincing. “But I can have friends with different interests.”

“Let’s change the subject,” my mother said, her tone firm.

Sterling rolled his eyes. “I don't even know why she's so obsessed with Broadway anyway. It's such sissy stuff.”

Of course Nash and Wyatt agreed, and I froze as they turned to look at me.

“It's not the worst thing in the world,” I said, trying to keep a neutral stance. We'd always been a sports family, and anything remotely girly was seen as a bad thing. But I’d learned a lot from Hazel over the past six months, and there were a lot of catchy songs she’d introduced me to. For some of those guys to sing as well as they did, it was evidence that it wasn’t only for girls.

“Do you really like her?” Nash asked, grabbing a piece of bread and the tub of butter. Leave it to him to cut straight to the heart of things.

“She's my friend,” I said, electing to leave outbest. Nate and I were still good friends, but I didn't need anyone interfering in my relationship with Hazel, especially not from my brothers right now.

“Yeah, but you spend a lot of time with her,” Wyatt said. He was only twelve, but at the rate he was growing, he would probably surpass me in the next few months.

“Yeah,” I said, my defenses rising. “You spend a lot of time with Joey. It's the same thing.”

Sterling's hand landed on my shoulder, and he ducked his head a little bit as if to get directly on eye level. “That's not the same thing. Wyatt and Joey have the same interests. Hazel doesn’t even know how to catch a ball.”

I swallowed, remembering our Thanksgiving football game. I'd invited her over, excited to have her share in one of our family traditions, and it didn't go quite as I'd pictured it. She hadn't exactly come over dressed to play a sport, meaning she was trying to run in knee-high boots. And then, Sterling, as the defender, had taken the opportunity to hit away any ball thrown to her before she had a chance to catch it.

I held up my hands. “It's not like we're in a relationship. We're friends,” I said. Those last two words sliced through my chest, and I wished there was some way to change that. Visions of her hanging onto the arm of some faceless dude in what I pictured Buffalo to look like, coupled with the asparagus I was still trying to choke down, made me want to throw up.

“Whatever,” Sterling said. “I’ll bet she'll get you roped into starring in her plays next.”

There was a moment of silence before all of us started laughing at that. It was nice to cut through some of the tension and relax a little bit.

“I’ll take that bet. I'll give you a hundred dollars at the end of the school year if that ever happens. You’ll owe me if I don’t,” I said. Baseball was my sport, and even if I thought being part of the play would be fun, there was no way to juggle both, meaning I’d easily win. And I struggled to memorize all the facts for my history class. Remembering lines for a performance in front of a crowd wasn't something in my wheelhouse.

“A hundred is on the table, then,” Sterling said, nodding.

We shook on it, and I was confident I'd get a chunk of Sterling’s college allowance when school ended.

“If that’s what he wants to do, then he should go for it,” my mom said, clearing her plate. “Don’t let them deter you from something you might actually like, Colt. There’s more to life than just sports.”

“I don't think we'll have to worry about that, Mom. The play is during baseball, and this is the year we have to focus to make it to state. I've got my eye on the prize.” I tried to smile around another bite of the asparagus, but the end piece got stuck, activating my gag reflex.

“You’ve got your eye on something besides the state championship,” Sterling said, chuckling.

Once I swallowed the offending vegetable, I frowned and shook my head. “Why don’t you just go back to college?”

Sterling grinned. “I am, in about two hours.”

We cleared the dishes, and I started washing them, wishing our dishwasher was fixed so I didn’t have to do it all by hand. But the good thing about this chore was that it gave me the chance to think through everything going on in my life.

Baseball was up there, but Hazel was the one who took up most of my thoughts. Should I make a move and ask her on a date? Or would I ruin our friendship forever?

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