Page 27 of The Perfect Hit

I just needed to keep things under wraps in all areas of my life. I couldn’t believe how close I'd come to telling Hazel I liked her. Looking back, it was like waiting for a bomb to explode. Maybe I just needed to get over her, to remember we were just friends and that we had a good thing going right now. Why mess with it?

The team was warming up for our first game that Wednesday, an away game, and I was ready for whatever came toward me at third base. Although I’d been slightly distracted the past week, this was the start of the awesomeness that would lead us to a championship. I had to be on my game because it was going to take every person possible to make it.

I got a couple hits my way and made the plays, feeling pretty good about it all. But my batting was off. I hit a little grounder to the first baseman, who tagged his bag and then tried to get Dax out running to third. The second time up, I hit a high pop fly to the catcher, one of the worst feelings ever.

The person who surprised me was Adam Taylor. The kid hustled from the moment he stepped onto the field until he was off it. Coach Maddox had put him in the batting order to hit for Ben, who’d started on the mound this game.

Watching him hit was like watching an instructional video about what to do.He was selective with his pitches, and when the right one came along, he was able to position it into the gaps in the outfield, allowing us to score several runs.

“The kid’s a machine,” Jake said, putting his helmet away after scoring on Adam’s drive to left-center.

I nodded, trying not to get down about my own skills. There were several moments of irritation, but I had to keep remembering we were in this for the long haul, and getting petty about that kind of stuff in the first few games would only make it difficult to go the distance.

We made it to the sixth inning, and I was up to bat once again. The pitcher took his stance, and I made a quick run-through of everything I’d learned at the camp and over the past couple of weeks.

The ball came in, and I saw it curving. Instead of swinging, I let it go by.

“Strike!” the umpire called.

The next pitch came in, slower than the pitch before, and I swung way harder than I should’ve, spinning on my heel and feeling like an idiot as the ball snapped into the catcher’s glove.

Stepping out of the box, I glanced out at the grass in the outfield. I needed something to calm me down at this point. I placed one foot in the box and then set the back one, swinging the bat low a few times as I waited for the pitcher to get set.

This time, the ball came straight down the middle, and all I had to do was connect. The ball hit the bat, flying out in between left and center field.

Taking off, I pushed hard, rounding first and heading into second. Right as I went to touch second base, my foot caught the edge of the bag, rolling my ankle over. A shot of pain drifted up from my foot to my calf, and I bit my bottom lip, hoping to keep the pain inside. I made sure my good foot was still on the bag and held the other in my hands.

Once the ball was called dead, I heard Coach Maddox making his way out there.

“What happened, Buttars?” He knelt down, pulling back one of my hands.

“I just hit the bag wrong and twisted my ankle.” I knew he was trying to be chill about it, but a moment of panic crossed his face.

“Can you stand?” he asked. He held out his hand and pulled me up. I tried to put a little weight on the foot, but I knew it was going to be difficult to play on for the rest of the game.

Without saying anything, he turned to the field umpire. “We’re going to need to sub. Number fourteen for six.” He called to the bench, and Kyle Sharp, one of the fast freshmen grabbed a helmet and headed out to us.

Coach wrapped his arm around me, allowing me to lean on him for help. “You’ll be out the rest of the game, but at least we’re up by a lot and only have an inning and a half left.”

I nodded, trying to keep my face neutral even though I had to grimace every few steps.

“You didn’t hear it pop at all, right?” he asked as we got to the dugout. He let me sit on the bench as he squatted down to check out my ankle.

“No. It just twisted and then pain hit.”

A trainer from the other team showed up, feeling the area and testing things with a few twists. “It’s a sprain. Let me get you a bag of ice and keep it elevated.”

I nodded, wishing I could somehow go back a couple of minutes and do things differently. If only I’d concentrated on the bag in front of me instead of trying to see if I could go farther.

The next batter struck out, and I watched Coach Maddox make adjustments to the field as my teammates grabbed their gloves and headed out to play defense. He did some switching, but Adam Taylor ended up at third base. Fear hit me that I might have just lost my spot.

Should I secretly wish him to struggle and miss a ball to make myself feel better?

I shook my head. I needed to be grateful we had another option, at least for the short time I wouldn’t be able to play.

The first pitch was a rocket to Adam, and he fielded it like it was a cloud, firing it over to John Miller, Brynn’s brother, who’d had to come in from the outfield in the whole shift.

With his height, John was able to field the throw a few feet off from the base and come back. At least the play wasn’t perfect.

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