Page 13 of The Perfect Hit

Jake snorted. “Not a huge impact player. No one can field those straight shots off the Groveton guys like you can, Colt. And your hitting will come. You’ll be going for the fences for sure.”

I tried to laugh that off, but to hear it from one of the captains was a huge deal for me. I’d always been average height, nothing shocking like some of the others on the team, and to hear that they needed me was kind of a boost.

“Thanks, guys. We’re taking state this year.” I raised my chocolate milk carton as if we were toasting the idea.

Thankfully, they all cheered and started talking about something else, leaving me to think about the play and Logan’s question. What would I do if Hazel told me she’d date me? Would I be in the play?

I laughed at that. My acting skills were worse than zero. I’d learned not to lie to my mother early on since she could read it all over my face. To be honest, I was surprised the guys bought the small lie I’d told them. But I didn’t need them to worry when things were so intense this year.

The idea of me in a production not sports-related was laughable, and my brothers would never let me live it down. My curiosity made me want to be in a production with Hazel, but that could wait until next fall with whatever Mrs. Sanderson decided to produce.

But would it be worth it to join in now if I could call Hazel my girlfriend?

7

Hazel

It felt like I’d gone for a long run with all the nerves I’d gone through during school. It was time to cast the characters I’d become attached to, and I wasn’t sure how well that would work out. I might have made a list of the people I thought would work for several parts, not sure who all would show up.

“Okay, Hazel. Now is the time to see who will embody your characters the most. Are you ready for that?” Mrs. Sanderson beamed at me as though this was her favorite thing ever.

I swallowed big and then nodded. “I think I’ll survive, right?”

“You’re turning green, Hazel. Don’t worry, dear. I remember being just as nervous as you the first time I had to direct.” She took in a deep breath, using her hands to signal that I should do the same. “Now, breathe out. There you go. Whenever you feel overwhelmed, just take a few breaths and take it a minute at a time. That’s how I get through anything I struggle with.”

We took our places a couple of rows back from the stage in the large auditorium and waited as the students got ready for their auditions. It was such a strange change from where I usually was. I breathed deeply, feeling a little less tense with every breath out.

In the past, when auditions came for any musical or play, I was singing and rehearsing for days, learning the melodies and harmonies, wanting to know everything inside and out. This time, it felt like I’d done that anyway since I’d written the whole thing.And this one turned out to be a play instead of a musical, because no matter how I tried to come up with some catchy songs for it, it just didn’t feel right every time.

“Welcome to the auditions for the spring production ofBetter Together,” Mrs. Sanderson said. “If you’d all clap for our own playwright, Hazel Miller.”

My cheeks had to be the color of tomatoes after that introduction. It was like this writing thing had changed me into a different person. I usually welcomed the applause, but right now, I guess I was nervous that the whole thing could flop, even though Mrs. Sanderson approved of the script.

She continued. “We’ll start with the smaller roles and then go for the bigger ones last. There is a part for everyone here, so even if you don’t get the part you really wanted or tried out for, you'll still be part of the magic.”

I loved the way she said that, the way she encouraged all of us with hope and excitement. There had been directors in my past who weren’t so supportive. Ex-boyfriends as well.

The auditions started out a little rough, with several of the students flubbing their lines as they practiced together. My range of emotions was so up and down that I could’ve sworn I’d just been flying and then hit turbulence.

I leaned over to Mrs. Sanderson in between two auditions and whispered, “Is this how you feel every time? Like, are we going to be able to make a production out of this?”

Mrs. Sanderson laughed. “Oh, honey, that happens to me every six months. But with the right motivation, some good instruction, and keeping the fun around, it’s very possible.” She turned to the stage, encouraging the next few students onto the stage to begin.

I pulled out a pen and wrote down that advice. It seemed like something I’d need to consult later on.

The power flickered and turned back on, the surprise of it causing shrieks and screams from several students. It flickered again and then went out completely.

“What happened?” someone on stage asked.

We waited a few moments, hoping it would come back on, but it didn’t.

“Okay, everyone, please file out into the hallway. No running. We don’t need to call the ambulance to the school when the electricians will have to come anyway.”

Mrs. Sanderson’s sense of humor was funny, but she did have a point.

The rest of the school was dark as well, and the windows only let in a little light. The dark clouds signaled a big storm.

“We’ll have to postpone auditions today,” Mrs. Sanderson said to the crowd of students. “Be prepared for auditions to continue tomorrow when the power is back on.”

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