Page 62 of The Change Up
Since I’d pick her up after her shift at the diner, and we’d spend all day together before she’d come to my games. Chloe would look so pretty in the stands in her infamous sundresses, hair braided down her back, or in pigtails with my hat perched on top of her head. For some games, she’d sit with rapt attention watching pitch after pitch while some days she’d sit with her nose stuck between the pages of her latest book. It never bothered me when she would rather pay more attention to her novels than to my game. There was a comfort that would wash over me when I’d look up and find her in the stands.
It’s the same comfort I feel right now.
I shake the thoughts from my head, reining in my inner thoughts and focusing on the job at hand. Bending at the waist, I wait for my pitch call.
Standing, I go through my motions and fire a fastball right down the center causing the batter to whiff. The next pitch has the same result. And just like that, I’m one batter away from pitching the game of my life.
A no-hitter.
But the next guy to step up to the plate has the hair rising on my arms as dread pools in my stomach.
Mark Daniels is one of the top hitters in the league. The weight of this game lies solely on his shoulders. He’s a tough competitor, one I’ve been facing since high school where he played on the rival team. Throughout our years, we’ve had quite the duel between us. I’ve learned his quirks, but he’s also learned my cues.
He lines up at the plate, his eyes staring me down. I don’t let him see that I’m worried. I’m not, but I’m also notnotworried.
Nolan gives me the sign, and I deliver the pitch as a crack pierces the air. I whip my head in the direction of the outfield and watch the ball in the air.
Go foul. Go foul. Gofuckingfoul.
“Foul,” the outfield umpire shouts, and I could drop to my knees with relief. Fuck that was a close one.
Coach steps out from the dugout, calling time as he makes his way to the mound. He better not be pulling me out of this game.
“Jacobs, you doing okay?” Coach asks, standing in front of me while the rest of the infield circles around us. The circle gives us a little bit of privacy.
Nodding my head, “Yeah, Coach, I’m good. I’ve got this.”
“I know you do. Just wanted to come out here and calm you down. We’ve got your back, Jacobs.”
“We got you,” the guys say as they swat me with their gloves.
Everyone jogs back to their positions, including Coach who stops at the steps of the dugout. The stadium starts clapping as everyone shows their support before quieting down as Daniels and I get into our positions.
Ripping the ball through the air, it’s low, but not low enough to be called a ball.
“One more to go, baby!” Billings shouts from third base.
One more.
Nolan gives a sign, and I shake my head.
He gives another sign. I give him a tight-lipped expression and shake my head.
Nolan’s eyes go over to Coach who is giving him a sign that he translates into our sign. A small smirk finds my lips, and I nod.
Powering off the mound, the ball flies through the air. I watch as Daniels steps forward, rotating his hips. He’s swinging, but the ball changes up speed and dies down. Daniels misses the ball as Nolan catches it in his mitt.
“Strike three!”
The crowd erupts as the guys race toward the mound.
Holy shit. I just pitched a no-hitter.
I can’t keep the smile from erupting across my face as the guys start jumping on me, and if I’m not careful, we’re going to end up in a dog pile, and I’ll be underneath them.
“Hell yeah, man!” Nolan says first.
“Dude, you called the pitches.”
