Page 49 of The Perfect Hit

This night just continued to get worse.

“I don’t want to talk about it anymore.” I turned, and instead of heading up to my room, I walked outside, deciding to head to the guesthouse. I’d almost forgotten my grandpa was in there, and when I opened the door, I was surprised to see he was awake.

“Coltie boy, how are you doing this evening?”

I nodded and sat in a chair next to his bed. “I’m all right. What are you doing up this late?”

He smiled. “Well, it looks like you could use a little lotion for your skin. What are you wearing?”

I glanced down. The brown paper stuck to the brown sweats Marcy had coaxed me to wear as part of the costume. I chuckled. “It’s part of a palm tree costume. I went to a school dance tonight.”

He nodded. “Well, that’s probably the funniest thing I’ve ever seen you wear, son.” He leaned back in the hospital bed my parents had set up for him. It was easier to get him in and out of it with his hip the way it was.

“I was missing your grandmother something awful, so I figured I’d turn on one of her favorite TV shows.” He pressed a button, pausing the show. “How come you look like you lost the World Series if you just went to a dance. Don’t those usually make you happy?”

I chuckled a minute and turned to him. “Grandpa, did you ever do anything that people said you were crazy for doing?”

He smiled and laughed. “Yeah, way too many times. What kind of crazy are you talking about?”

“I auditioned for the school play.”

“Ah, the spotlights and the adrenaline as you get ready to deliver your part onstage. It’s the best feeling in the world.”

I blinked several times. “Wait, you were in a play?”

He reached out and slapped my shoulder. “Not just one, but many, Coltie boy.”

“Are you sure you’re not my mom’s dad?” I laughed, and so did he.

“Oh, son, your dad ran around with the sports crowd his whole life. He’s never known anything different. And he’s not one to change on the spot, if you haven’t noticed.”

“It’s not hard to notice that. So how did you do that and sports?”

My grandfather smiled, adjusting the blanket over his lap as he leaned a little closer to me. “Things were a bit easier to manage back then. Sports didn’t go year-round like they do now. But I’m proud of you, boy. When is the performance?”

“In a week. I still don’t have my lines down, and my team and my family are disappointed, saying I’ve stretched myself too thin.” They hadn’t said it in those words exactly, but I knew that’s what my dad was thinking. He was all about the philosophy of finding what you’re good at and sticking with it.

“Well, there’s no time like the present. I’ve got nothing but therapy to do tomorrow. Why don’t you bring out the script, and we’ll work on it?”

I grinned, feeling the best I had since I’d confronted Hazel in the hall. The urge to go over and talk to her was strong, but she’d already rejected me. I didn’t want to cause her more pain over all this, especially since I’d gone on a date with her friend. If only there was a way to go back in time and change it all.

“Sounds like a plan, Grandpa.”

No matter how much Hazel might hate me right now, I wasn’t going to give up and let her down. I’d have to work things out with Coach Maddox about the game a week from Thursday. I just hoped I could gain my teammates’ trust again, especially Nate’s.

32

Hazel

The next week and a half passed in a blur. I’d avoided Marcy and Colt as much as possible, only giving them simple commands when I saw them at rehearsals. Colt had tried to talk to me a few times, but I didn’t need a Band-Aid to cover the gaping hole in my heart. How things had gotten worse than my breakup with Seth, I’d never know.

But I was here, a mostly functioning girl trying to direct the play. We had one last practice to get everything polished, and then the final performances would take place. I’d gone home after the dance and was grateful to Adam for the conversation we’d had.

I needed to communicate things better, just like Mrs. Sanderson had been trying to teach me, but even picturing a talk with Colt had turned into a jumbled mess I didn’t think I could come back from.I’d pushed him away, and I’d never wished more for some magic to go back in time and change it.

I’d become numb to a lot of things, not feeling the rush I usually got from rehearsing and performing. But now it was Wednesday, the week of the play.

I made it to the afternoon and found myself walking through the back of the stage and checking on all the props and scenery. It was both exhilarating and terrifying to think that we’d be performing something I’d written in just twenty-four hours.

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