Page 28 of The Perfect Hit

Once the game was over and we’d shaken hands with the other team, I struggled to get my cleat off. The ice had helped to keep the swelling down, and I’d just have to be careful walking on it.

“Buttars,” Coach Maddox said after the team discussion, “make sure you see the trainer tomorrow morning. I need you to get that ankle taken care of so you’re back in the game as soon as possible.”

I nodded, waiting until he walked back to the bus before I started hobbling along.

“How’s it feeling?” Ben asked, grabbing my bag from me and carrying it on his free arm.

“There’s just a lot of pain.” It was all I could say at that point. I was focusing on not aggravating it as we walked back to the bus.

“Hopefully all you need is some ice and tape,” Dax said, walking up on the other side. He leaned over a bit, and I put my hand on his shoulder, using him as my tall crutch to make it to the bus.

Logan walked in front, taking backward steps. “That looked like it hurt, man. And you did it all without screaming. I’m no good with pain.”

We all laughed at that. “What do you mean?” Jake said, walking on the other side of Ben. “You live on a farm.”

“What does that have to do with my inability to handle pain?”

At this point, I was struggling to walk because I was laughing so much. When I finally settled down, I looked up at him. “You have animals and equipment that can cause pain daily.”

Logan shrugged. “True, but I stay away from those. The worst part about living on a ranch is the smell and the mud. Other than that, I’m good.”

We finally made it back to the bus, and I had a feeling of gratitude fill me. These were some of the best friends a guy could ask for, and I was happy to have them on my side, even with a dumb injury like this. At least their fun banter caused me to forget about the pain for a bit.

By the time I got settled on the bus, my ankle was swollen and hurt a bit more than before. Coach Davidson dug around in his bag and found some ibuprofen, which I took, hoping it would negate some of the swelling and make it so I could at least walk.

Ben checked a few movements and agreed that it was only a sprain and shouldn’t be anything worse than that. “Stay off if for a few days. You still might want to go get it checked out, though. I mean, I may work in a physical therapy clinic, but I’m still not licensed.” He laughed at that, and I slugged him in the shoulder.

“Well, I like your diagnosis, so I might just go with it.”

I hobbled in the direction of the truck. How I was going to drive it with my right foot injured was going to be an adventure.

“Do you think you’ll be okay by tomorrow, Buttars?” Nate asked. It was rare for him to call me by my last name, and I was curious why he’d done so all of a sudden.

“I hope so. We’ll have to see.”

“Yeah, I hope you can. I don’t want anyone to take your place. I always know I have a wall over at third base,” Ben said.

I nodded, trying not to get emotional. It was the first time I’d ever really gotten compliments from these guys. I’d always thought I was too short or not strong enough to do the things I was starting to do, and it felt good. Not my ankle, of course.

“Do you want me to drive you home?” Nate asked, gesturing to his Hummer. “We can always get your truck tomorrow.”

I shook my head, not wanting them to dote on me. “I’ll be fine, guys. I’m going to go home and put my leg up or whatever and sleep it off. If all goes well, I’ll be back at it tomorrow.”

It took a moment for them to agree, and they said goodbye, walking in the directions of their vehicles.

I got into my truck and slumped against the seat. All that running around was exhausting, but at least I didn’t have play practice tonight. That was one of the good things about this, that even though I was busy with so many things, the long nights weren’t every night like I thought they’d be. Although Marcy and Hazel had warned me that things would start to pick up next week and continue to the night of the production.

A knock on my window caused me to jump, and I saw Hazel smiling at me. She opened the passenger side door and slid in. “What are you up to in here?”

I rested my head back against the glass behind me. “I’m trying to remember that life isn’t always this crazy.”

“Did you just get back from the game?”

I nodded, turning slightly so I could see her expression. “Yeah, the guys all just left. I was trying to figure out how to drive with my left foot.” At least I didn’t drive a stick shift, or that’s what my dad would probably say once I got home.

“What happened to you? Are you okay?” Hazel leaned over the seat and reached down to look at my ankle. It was covered by a bag of water since all the ice had melted.

Waving it off, I said, “I’m fine. I mean, I’ve got a bit of pain still, but the ibuprofen is working. I should be back to normal tomorrow.” That was the hope.

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