Page 6 of The Perfect Hit

Hazel looked thoughtful. “Do you want to play baseball in college?” It was strange, all the questions she’d directed at me, but I was grateful she cared enough to ask.

I shrugged, kneeling back down to tug at another stubborn weed. The section I was working on hadn't gotten as much water that day, and the soil was still tough. It gave me a moment to think about my answer.

“I haven't really thought about it, to be honest. Jake and the other guys are talking about it nonstop, hoping to get scholarships. But even if I wanted to, no scout would’ve picked me based on my performance the past couple of days. I mean, I love playing baseball right now, but will it be more like a job when I get to college?” That fleeting feeling of baseball being everything from just a few hours earlier didn’t fit as well as it had then.

Hazel gave a slow nod. “I hadn't thought of it like that. I would love to attend a school that focuses on music and theater. I just hope I won't get sick of it either.”

I shook my head, laughing at her. “Are you serious? If you were to get sick of it, you probably would've done so by now. The way you listen to show tunes, sometimes I feel like you’re preparing for your own Broadway show.”

“That's the dream,” Hazel said with a breathy sigh.

“You'll get there,” I said, confident she would.

Hazel was one of the most tenacious people I'd ever met in my life. Ever since she'd moved from Buffalo, I worried she'd want to move right back. Pecan Flatts was not close to New York City at all, and Buffalo was still a few hours’ drive from the big city. There wasn't too much to foster a young theater student here in our small town. At least Mrs. Sanderson had enough knowledge about the theater for Hazel to keep learning.

“When are your auditions?” I asked, grabbing the last couple of weeds and standing back up. It turned out to be a medium-size pile, and I gathered it and walked over to the garbage can at the side of the house.

“We start auditions Wednesday,” Hazel said, walking up behind me. She brought the small shovel and a few weeds I must've forgotten and dumped the weeds into the trash can.

“Wednesday? That's when baseball tryouts are.” Even though I knew it would be hard, part of me wondered what it would be like to take part in Hazel’s play. She’d worked so hard on it, and I knew the overall storyline.

“Yay for that. It’ll be just fine and you’ll figure out how to swing.” She blushed and laughed. “I sound like a girl who knows nothing about sports.”

I grinned. “It’s probably how I sound when I try to talk to you about your plays and theater stuff.”

“You’ve definitely come a long way since I moved here,” she said, her smile causing my stomach to flip with the excitement of it. “Mrs. Sanderson gave my script back on Friday. It was supposed to be the final, but she still had so many red marks all over it. It was probably good you were gone yesterday because I actually got all the edits done.”

I laughed. “Are you saying you missed me?” I tried to make my tone light, but I was more curious than I should've been. Maybe because all my friends now had girlfriends and spending the weekend with them talking about the girls made me more anxious about her answer.

“Of course I missed you,” Hazel said, grinning. “You're the only guy who lets me talk about everything and anything. And you give pretty good insight. There's no way I could've finished that play without you.”

I straightened my back and shoulders, striking a pose to give her a laugh. “I'll take it,” I said. “What are you doing right now?”

“Well, I'm talking to you, obviously,” she said, rolling her eyes.

“Why don't we go get a milkshake or something? We can celebrate the start of the baseball season and you getting your script ready in time for auditions.”

“Sounds perfect. But I'm buying,” Hazel said, “to thank you for all your help with it.”

I shook my head, frowning. “No way. I'm the one who suggested it, so I’ll pay. Let me just go wash off my hands and grab my keys.”

We walked into the kitchen where my mom was busy canning something. I couldn't quite figure out what it was, just that it was bright red.

“Hello, Mrs. Buttars,” Hazel said.

“Hi, Hazel.” My mom smiled. “And remember to call me Shirley. I've missed you here the past couple of days. You should’ve come over and talked while Colt was at camp. I can always use another girl around this place.”

I turned my head while my hands were still under the water to look at Hazel, and her eyes grew big while her expression turned pleased.

“I’ll have to do that next time.”

“Now, now,” I said, wiping my hands off on a towel. “Are you trying to steal my best friend, Mom?”

The other two laughed, and I chuckled along with them.

Grabbing my keys from the hanger next to the door, I took a few steps toward my mom and gave her a peck on the cheek. “We're going to get milkshakes to celebrate Hazel finishing her script. I'll be back in a while.”

“Okay. Maybe grab you something else while you’re there. I’m going to head back to the hospital to check on Grandpa, so I probably won’t be around to make dinner.”

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