The Perfect Game: A Young Adult Romance (Rosemont High Baseball Book 2)

by Britney M. Mills

  “Here are the results of your latest papers,” Mr. Kendall said, bringing me back to the present. He strolled up the aisle next to mine, handing out the essays we’d written on Ernest Hemingway. As he made his way back down the row where I sat, my stomach clenched. I’d struggled writing it, but I needed at least an A- to pull my grade up. I’d blown the chance to follow in my father’s footsteps as valedictorian the semester before, but the pressure was still on to perform.

  The paper landed on my desk, the large red letter causing the air to leave my lungs. B.

  The bell rang, and I stuffed the paper in my backpack, barely hearing my teacher say something about seeing a play for extra credit. It would be torturous but necessary.

  But now it was time for baseball. Once I figured out my slider, the tightness in my chest would ease, and the benefit was that I could go a whole practice not saying more than the pitches I wanted to throw. “Slider. Off-speed. Fast.”

  If only I’d known what to say to Serena the one time I actually had a chance to talk to her. When Jake and Penny were together, our groups kind of hung out, but the window for talking to her always closed a second or two before I got up the courage to say anything.

  The locker room was already humid, steam coming from the showers from the kids just getting out of gym. My skin was already sticky, and I knew it was only going to get worse as practice went on in the Texas heat. I pulled off my t-shirt and threw on my practice jersey, trying not to let my awkwardness with Serena run through my mind over and over again, analyzing every part. I know people say girls overanalyze, but there have been times when I probably could have won that battle.

  “What’s wrong with you, man?” Dax asked, slapping me on the back. The impact was harder than I expected, and I had to put my arms out to catch myself from slamming my face into the locker.

  “Nothing. Just a long day of school, you know?” I turned, hoping to keep my feelings invisible from him. I knew my friends could read me like a book, and so far I’d managed to keep my little crush on Serena a secret. They might not care now that Jake and Penny were dating, and since Serena was good friends with Penny, they might even push the idea. But then I’d actually have to talk to her. In full sentences.

  What girl liked a kid who could only say a handful of words before his tongue twisted and his brain shut down? I’m sure some girls thought I had an impediment of some sort. Nope, just an overactive brain that called into question every move I made.

  Jake walked around the corner of the line of lockers and groaned. “Who’s ready to die in the heat today?”

  I’d been too distracted to even check the weather for the afternoon. But in true Texas fashion, it would be sweltering hot with a side of humidity, making it difficult to focus on anything during practice. This was one of those times when I would be willing to have practice before school, just to get some relief from the heat.

  “What are you talking about?” Dax asked, throwing Jake a look of disbelief. “You’re not the one who has to add all the catching gear on top of our practice uniform for three hours.”

  “True. But it’s still hot. We better remind the freshmen to fill up the water. I’d hate for heatstroke to set in.” Jake wasn’t the team captain, but he may as well have been from the change he’d made over the past few weeks. Ever since prom, he’d been happier than I’d ever seen him, and way more responsible.

  I tucked in my practice jersey and buttoned up my baseball pants. My pulse raced as I hurried to get out of the locker room, everything seeming to close in on me with my friends right there. If only I could get Serena out of my brain, I wouldn’t feel so flustered.

  “I’ll go tell them.” Before they could say anything, I grabbed my hat and bag from the bench, running down the middle of the aisle of lockers.

  Clicking through the mental list of all the things I needed to get done that night didn’t help get rid of the apple-cinnamon scent I’d smelled on Serena when we collided.

  I made it to the end aisle of lockers where most of the freshmen were getting ready. “Hey, guys. Make sure we get enough water for today. It’s going to be hot.”

  Hearing the groans already, I turned and walked out the locker room doors by the parking lot. From there I turned right, walking down to the field. I was earlier than normal, but I needed to get some kind of movement going through me or else I’d just picture the scene between the brunette volleyball player and my awkwardness over and over again.

  “Clark, you’re here early,” Coach Maddox said from the other side of the dugout as I put my bag on the bench and sat next to it. I pulled out my cleats and yanked on the laces as I tied them. Loose cleats were probably the worst thing for a pitcher, and I was going to have to get another pair of laces in the next week or two. Several spots were already fraying, and I didn’t want to chance them breaking during one of our playoff games.

  “I was ready and didn’t feel like hanging out in the locker room,” I replied as I stood.

  Coach slipped on a catcher’s mitt. “How about we play some catch? I want to go over some of the notes I have about the Weyland game coming up tomorrow.”

  I nodded, readjusting my hat so it covered my forehead completely. Some of the guys couldn’t stand to have it so low, almost blocking their view of the ball coming at them, but I’d grown used to having it like that in the Texas sun, making it easier to see the signs from the catcher as well as shade me from being blinded.

  I swung my arms around in circles, loosening up the joints. I’d had the day off in the game the day before, but even with the usual easy workout to stay loose, everything felt a little more stiff than normal.

  I grabbed a ball from one of the buckets and stepped out onto the grass. The ground didn’t give, meaning that any of the water from the sprinklers that morning had already dried up in the sun.

  “What are we ranked now, Coach?” I asked, tossing the ball in his direction.

  The man smiled, and if I couldn’t see the gray of his hair, I’d think he was only a year or two older than most of us.

  “Same as it was when the papers came out on Sunday, Ben.”

  I grunted as I tossed the ball in his direction, making sure to get the right snap of my wrist. Each little piece had to be warmed up or I’d be feeling even worse tomorrow.

  “I don’t get to read the papers, Coach.” I caught the toss he threw back at me and threw again.

  He held onto the ball, dropping his glove to his side. “What do you mean you don’t get to read the papers?”

  I held up my glove, wishing I could go back and unsay the words. What I should have said was that I didn’t have time to read them or I didn’t really care.

  Coach shook his head, his eyebrow raised as he awaited my answer.

  “My parents read them. At the end of the season, they give me a folder with all the clippings so I can go through them.”

  “Why do they do that?” Coach wound up and tossed the ball back in my direction.

  I breathed out, the anxiety rising a bit. “When I read them last year, I ended up getting too tight or worried about everything but my pitches. So this was the compromise. I get to read any article with the team or with my name in it at the end of the season.”

  The broad smile Coach gave me caused me to pause. “I didn’t know that. No wonder you’ve been on fire this year.”

  My cheeks burned, and I tripped on the next throw, catching myself before falling to the ground. Almost like bumping into Serena. That’s all I needed was to get distracted by a girl just as the season neared a critical point of the playoffs.

  “I don’t think so, Coach.” I could still picture the bad pitch I’d thrown two games ago, allowing a double. If I could just have a perfect game, where no one on the opposing team even touched first base, I knew I’d feel like it was enough. Then I wouldn’t have to analyze it a hundred times over. But until then, I had to keep pushing, keep practicing to get there.

  I glanced over to see Jake, Dax, and Nate walking do
wn the road to the dugout. At least I’d have a small reprieve from Coach’s line of questioning.

  When I looked back, Coach Maddox was almost in front of me. “I know you’ve got this whole modest thing going on, Ben, but it’s okay to take a compliment. And as much as I’d like to give you the evidence that you’re doing really well, I need you on point in tomorrow’s game. So just make sure you get a good workout in. Make sure every pitch is working. We need a ‘W’ tomorrow.”

  “I’d still like to see the scouting report.” The words came out with more force than I usually had, and Coach’s smile grew even more.

  “Now that’s the attitude of a ballplayer. Let me get the team warmed up, and we’ll go over it while you throw a bullpen. Then I won’t have to explain it all to Dax again.”

  I nodded, walking over to where the freshman had just brought in several carriers with bottles of water. Picking one up, I held it a few inches from my mouth and squeezed, grateful for the relief from a dry throat. We’d only thrown for maybe five minutes, but sweat already streaked down the side of my face. It was going to be a long practice.

  Three

  Ben

  We survived that practice as well as the game the next day. The scouting report Coach had received from the other teams who’d already played against Weyland had been crucial to our nail-biter win. I was able to throw the right pitches to keep their big hitters off guard, bettering our chances for home-field advantage once the playoff games started.

  Friday’s practice was lighter and much shorter, and from the exhausted looks of everyone in the locker room after, we all needed the rest. But that only meant another grueling practice on Monday to get us ready for the post-season games coming up next week.

  “What are we doing tonight, guys?” Dax asked as we walked to the parking lot.

  “We should head out to the bluffs. I hear there’s supposed to be a bonfire.” Of course, Nate would know where all the parties were at.

  Colt was nodding his head right behind him. “Let’s do it.”

  Shaking my head, I said, “Sorry, guys. I’ve got to go to a play for English.”

  Jake slapped me on the back. “Don’t tell me. Our Town for extra credit?”

  I frowned. “How did you know that?”

  He shrugged. “I think just about everyone in Mr. Kendall’s classes is going to that. I think I’ll be okay without the extra points this time, though.”

  My face must have told him I didn’t believe it because he said, “Miracles happen, people.”

  Standing next to my small truck, I threw my bat bag in the back and waved to the others, all parked nearby. “You’re all invited to the show. I’m buying snacks.”

  Nate’s laugh rang out. “I’m good. Candy and snacks are not enough to tempt me into going to a play I don’t actually have to go to. My mother forces me to enough of those ‘culturally stimulating events,’ as she puts it.”

  I’d already known the answer, but I still would’ve liked at least one of them to agree to go with me. But I’d survive without them there. As much as I had in common with the group of them, we also had a lot of differences.

  “Okay, I’ll see you tomorrow, then. Let me know what you’re all doing this weekend.” I waved again, slipping into the truck. My leg banged against the dash, and I bit my tongue to keep from yelling. It happened at least once every few times I drove, the disadvantage to being over six feet in a truck where the seat couldn’t adjust backward more than two inches.

  Once I got home, I took a quick shower and pulled on a button-up shirt and a pair of nicer jeans. With my hair combed, I walked downstairs, breathing in the smell of pasta and garlic.

  “Dinner’s almost ready,” my mom said, stirring a pot on the stove.

  “Smells good, Mom,” I said, taking down several plates from the cupboard. As I laid them out on the table, I glanced around, looking for my younger brother. “Where’s Daniel?”

  “He’s supposed to be picking up the toys he dumped out in the playroom. But he’s probably just playing with them.” I could hear the smile in her voice even though I was turned away. He was only seven, and it was something I would’ve done at that age.

  After I’d set out the utensils and glasses, I said, “I’ll go check on him. Call us when it’s ready.”

  I walked over to the spare bedroom down the hall, hearing Daniel’s little voice before I even got to the door. With a light knock, I twisted the knob and pushed it open.

  “Hey, buddy! Looks like you’re having some fun.” I glanced around the room with a shocked grin on my face. Daniel definitely knew how to destroy a room. The bins our mother had bought when I was younger were all overturned, with big and little toys nearly covering the carpet.

  His seven-year-old face beamed back at me, his slanted eyes disappearing with the expression. “Ben, you play with me?”

  Sliding down to sit next to him, I nodded. “I can play for a couple of minutes, and then we need to clean up so Mom doesn’t get mad, okay?”

  “Okay. I playing knights and dragons. You be dragons.” He shoved a plastic dragon into my hands and picked up two of the knights he had in a pile on the floor.

  As much as I loved hanging out with my friends, this was one of my favorite places to be. I thought back to the years my parents had tried to have more children, with several pregnancies ending in miscarriage. When she’d made it to the twenty-week mark with Daniel, we’d all been overjoyed. And as hard as the news had been find out minutes after his birth that Daniel had Down Syndrome, we’d all come to know that life without him wouldn’t have the same amount of fun and laughter it did now.

  Those first few years had been demanding on my mom with all the therapies he needed, and while he still had several appointments every week, his happiness seemed to rub off on me every time I was around him.

  “Dinner’s ready,” my mom called a few minutes later.

  “Okay, Daniel. Let’s see who can clean up this stuff the fastest. Ready, set, go!” I grabbed a bunch of the small figurines, throwing them into one of the boxes. Daniel went to work, always the competitor. There were times I thought he got more of that instinct than I had.

  By the time we made it to the table, my dad walked through the door, leaving his briefcase next to it. “How’s everyone doing tonight?” he said, walking over to kiss Mom.

  “Good!” Daniel said, his excitement causing the rest of us to chuckle.

  “What are you all dressed up for, son?” my dad asked, his gaze taking in my clothes.

  I pulled the bowl of salad toward me, nearly filling my plate. “I have to go to a play for English.”

  Dad took his usual spot at the head of the table, loosening his tie in the process. “This late in the year? You only have two weeks left, right? Don’t tell me it’s a make-up assignment.”

  His last words were like a hammer to my chest. My dad cringed each time he saw my grades, even though the lowest I’d ever gotten was a B+. The relationship I had with him wasn’t like the one I had with my mom, as I felt I was always defending myself or trying to prove something to him. With her, as long as I was happy, she was excited for me.

  The only reason I was going to the play was that I needed all the help I could get to boost my overall average. I planned to get into one of the colleges with a physical therapy program, and for the ones I wanted, I’d need a higher cumulative average.

  “It is,” I said, finally responding to his slight jab. I let the irritation disappear within me before saying, “I should be back around ten.”

  “You’re not hanging out with the guys?” my mom asked, passing me the large bowl of pasta. She’d learned to make double the portions when it came to my favorite dinner.

  I shook my head. “No, I’ll see them tomorrow. It’s been a long week, and I’m not sure if I’ll stay awake at this thing.”

  “Can I go?” Daniel asked. A smear of spaghetti sauce on his cheek made him look like he was preparing to go to war.

  “Not this
time, buddy. We’ve got a night of your favorite books, remember?” My dad exaggerated his smile.

  Bouncing around in his seat, Daniel’s eyes lit up. “Oh yeah. I’ll go get the books.” He stood and walked into the family room and over to the bookshelf. My mom looked as though she wanted to stop him, but she just shook her head.

  The rest of dinner passed without any interrogations from my father, and I was grateful for that. I knew he meant well, but it always seemed to be the same questions, as if he didn’t know what else to talk to me about besides hounding me to spend more time with baseball. I just wished he’d be happy for me and support me in the things I liked instead of trying to mold me into him.

  After helping clear the table, I headed out to the truck. I was going to be early, but I didn’t want to worry about trying to get into the play if I was late. Just as had been ingrained in me from the time I was in Little League, if I was on time, I was late. Otherwise, I found myself having to run way more than I wanted.

  I walked through the front doors of the theater, the smell of popcorn making my stomach grumble even after the two portions of penne I’d just eaten. Walking up to the ticket booth, I bought the cheapest ticket possible. The small amount of money I earned at my physical therapy internship could only go so far. Gas meant a lot more to me than being three rows from the stage.

  Finding an empty spot against the wall in the waiting area, I looked around for anyone I recognized. There were a few other juniors there, but I only smiled at them before pulling out my phone. To my friends, I wasn’t shy, but when it came to people I only knew from the halls at school, it was easier to just avoid eye contact than it was to initiate a conversation. I always had Jake, Dax, and even Nate who did that for me, so when I was alone, I preferred the silence.

  The doors opened to the theater, and I walked in, looking for my seat in the upper tier. I took a seat and began going through the program the host handed me on the way in, trying to figure out what I could write my paper on. It was better to have some idea of theme so I could look for it throughout the play and then write about it later. We’d studied Our Town the year before in English, but Mrs. Haddis had retired after last year. She hadn’t required quite so much interaction with the readings as Mr. Kendall did with our current assignments this year, and I struggled to remember all the aspects of the play.