“This is all her fault. Please tell me you can see that, Coach.”
“What’s her fault, King? That she’s a good ball player? Or that she’s a girl?”
“My awful performance is her fault! She’s a walking distraction! How is that good for the team?”
“Good ball players are always good for the team and that’s what I see when I look at Prince. Whereas you were a ball of emotion out there today. What’s all that aggression about, son? That’s not like you.”
“Yeah, well maybe it’s because I’m not used to being thrown off my game by competing against a girl. You know I always play shortstop and you gave it to her!”
Coach sighed and slumped into his squeaky office chair. “I didn’t give her anything, son. This is tryouts. The object is to try everyone at different positions to field the best team possible. I shouldn’t have to explain this to you. But apparently I do need to explain that you need to get used to the fact that Alex Prince isn’t going anywhere.”
“You’re joking, right? You can’t let her play.”
“She may be a distraction but there’ll be a much bigger one if I don’t let her play and our school gets dragged to court for discrimination. The whole team would be in jeopardy. Is that what you want? Besides, she’s good. I haven’t seen a kid with that much natural talent walk onto my field since you did.”
“So, what am I supposed to do? Just let her take my position?”
“No. I expect you to play your best and leave the rest up to me. I’ll post the final roster in a few weeks with positions when I see where everyone fits best.”
I glared at my coach, a man I normally respected. “This isn’t fair!”
“Life’s not fair, son.”
“Don’t I know it,” I muttered as I stormed out of his office.
I balled my hands into fists and resisted punching the wall with every fiber of my being. This couldn’t be happening. Not now. Not when I was so close to getting a one-way ticket out of this town.
What scout was going to watch me when there was a girl on the field outplaying all of us?
Coach was right about one thing though. I was going to play my best and give him no other choice than to give me my rightful spot at shortstop. And that meant I needed to be sharp, it meant I needed the batting cages.
I cracked my knuckles and headed back to my locker to collect my things, already anticipating how good it would feel to crush it in the cages. There was no better place for me to get out my anger.
Alex
I’d just gotten out of the shower and was starting to towel-dry my hair when I heard Casey call my name.
“Alex?” Her voice echoed through the empty locker room.
“Yeah?” I called peeking around the shower curtain.
“My dad wants to talk to you when you’re done.”
I swallowed the lump of doubt in my throat. “Do you know why?”
“Nope, but I’d hurry if I were you. He doesn’t like waiting.”
“Right.” I quickly threw on a clean pair of track pants and pulled one of my brothers’ oversized hoodies over my wet head. “Ready,” I said, pushing the shower curtain aside and tossing my towel into my gym bag.
Casey laughed. “I didn’t mean you couldn’t finish drying off,” she said noticing the water still dripping from my face and hair.
I wiped my face with my sleeve and put a ball cap on over my wet hair. “I’m good. Where do I meet him?”
“His office,” Casey replied, turning to walk out of the girls’ locker room.
I followed hot on her heels, nearly barreling into her back when she stopped short in front of the boys’ locker room.
“In there?” I asked, my voice an octave too high.
“Yeah. It’s straight in, first door on the left.”
She must have seen the shock on my face because she laughed. “Don’t worry, you won’t see anything. His office door is before you reach the lockers.”
I coughed to regain my swagger. “Right, nothing I haven’t seen before anyway,” I joked, though it certainly was.
I may have grown up in a house full of boys, but they were my brothers! I wasn’t prepared to walk into a locker room of half-dressed boys I went to school with.
What if I ran into Grant?
Ugh! Why was it that a shirtless image of him popped into my head?
I felt my cheeks flush and pulled my cap down lower to ensure I truly wouldn’t see anything I didn’t want to.
Thankfully, Casey was right. I was able to scurry into Coach Beeler’s office before catching an eyeful of my would-be teammates.
“Coach, you wanted to see me?” I asked in greeting.
He looked up from his big metal desk and gave me a nod. “Sit down, Prince.”
That was a good sign, right?
If he was going to cut me, he wouldn’t invite me to sit.
Or was this just his way of letting me down easy?
My mind was racing as I tried to read his calm stare.
“I’m impressed with the way you play the field, Prince. You’ve got talent, there’s no denying that, but . . .”
But . . . Oh no, this wasn’t good.
“I’m not sure if putting you on this team is in your best interest.”
“But you just said I impressed you.”
Coach held up his hands, cutting off my frantic outburst. “It’s not your skills that give me pause.”
“Then what is?”
He sighed deeply and took off his glasses, rubbing the bridge of his nose before replying. “You’re a good ball player, but your presence on the field is disruptive to the team.”
“That’s not my problem!” I objected.
Coach leveled me with a cool stare. “Yes, it is. This is a team sport. If you want to be on this team, then we need to find a way for you to work together with everyone.”
So much for my cheap shots at Grant going unnoticed.
It was obvious Coach was referring to Grant and his epic unraveling during tryouts, which I may or may not have instigated.
“You’re right,” I admitted. “I can find a way to work with everyone. I promise, Coach. Being on this team means everything to me.”
“That may be, but I fear it’ll take these boys more days than the season is long to see you as an equal.”
I sat up straighter. “I’ve been dealing with being seen as just a girl all my life. But I’ve been proving I’m an athlete for just as long.”
“It’ll be a long road, Prince. Are you sure you’re up for it?”
I could tell he was caving, and my heart soared. I leaned across the desk. “Sir, the only thing I’ve ever wanted since the day I was born was to play this game for a living. So yes, I will do whatever it takes to make that happen. And you know as well as I do if I don’t play this year my chances of getting an athletic scholarship to a highly ranked school are slim. Playing for the Trojans will get me and the rest of the team some real exposure. It’ll give us all a chance to shine.”
With a huff he threw his hands up. “Fine, you’re in. But don’t make me regret this.”
I stood, already backing out of his office so he couldn’t change his mind.
“You won’t! I promise.” I was so excited that I was halfway out the door before I remembered something. “Coach, what position do you want me to play?”
“I’m finishing up the roster right now, but I won’t make fielding decisions until after we’ve had a few more practices under our belt. Till then just keep your head down and play the field.”
“Got it, Coach,” I called, jogging out of the locker room unable to contain my grin.
Chapter Sixteen
Alex
I didn’t wait around to see the official roster posted. I knew there would be a few people who were angry I’d made the team. I figured the best thing to do was let them blow off steam and get it out of their system without me around.
I planned to head to the parking lot to get a ride home with my d
ad who was hopefully waiting in his truck like he promised, but Casey caught up with me first.
One look at my face and she knew. “OMG you made the team! I knew it! High-fives all around!” she squealed.
I couldn’t help it, I let her enthusiasm carry me away as I high-fived her and whooped in victory!
“So, what did my dad say? Do you know what position you’re playing?”
I filled Casey in on our conversation and she started to talk strategy. I had to hand it to her. She certainly knew just about everything there was to know about the Trojans’ ball club. We chatted so long that the boys were starting to trickle out of the locker room to the parking lot.
Not wanting to catch heat from any unhappy teammates, I cut Casey off. “Hey, I’ve gotta get going. My dad’s waiting for me.”
“Oh, okay. Here’s my number,” she said swiping my phone to add her digits. “Call me if you need anything.”
“Thanks, I will.”
I turned to leave but before I could escape, Tyler called my name. I looked up to see a baseball flying toward me. Thankfully I had quick reflexes. When I caught the ball, Tyler grinned, giving me a nod of what seemed like approval.
“See ya there,” he added, before heading to his shiny F250.
Casey squealed again. “OMG! You’re sooo in!”
“What do you mean?”
“You just got invited to Tyler Bishop’s Roster Rager!”
“What?” I looked at the ball and sure enough there was an address and time written there in blocky boyish writing. 108 REBEL RIDGE. 8 PM.
My first instinct was to think it was some kind of prank to lure me out to an abandoned building where I’d look like a complete fool for thinking I’d been accepted, but from the way Casey was gushing about it I realized the invite was legit.
“Are you going?” I asked.
Casey smiled at me with a dreamy look in her dark chocolate eyes. “I wish, but I didn’t get invited.”
“Well, I’m inviting you.”
She laughed. “You’re seriously the best for even asking, but it doesn’t work that way. The only way to get in is if you have a ball, and they’re not transferable.”
“Oh, sorry.”
“It’s fine. It’s not like my dad would ever let me go. The whole team goes and most of the dancers, and anyone else who’s cool. Tyler’s parties are legendary for a reason.”
I frowned as images of drinking, smoking and other dangerous behavior came to mind. As an athlete, my body was my temple. I didn’t like the idea of doing anything to damage it. “Maybe I shouldn’t go.”
“You have to go! For me, and every other girl out there dying to play a sport dominated by guys. You’re in, so act like it!”
Casey had a point. “Okay, fine. But what do I wear to a Roster Rager?”
“Check out the Trojan Tattler. I’m sure people are already posting about it. Or you can scroll back to last year’s party. There’s always tons of photos.”
“Right.”
Looking at the Tattler was the last thing I wanted to do but I also didn’t want to go in blind. As Jordan would say, it was time to put on my big girl britches.
I should’ve followed my first instinct and avoided the trashy tabloid site. I’m sure there was information that may have helped me do recon about Tyler’s party, but only if I was willing to wade through all the horrible posts about myself first.
Trojan Tattler:
Our own baseball princess proves she’s royal after all. A royal pain, that is. She may be able to play the field, but it seems her best asset to the Trojans is her ability to unravel even the most seasoned ballers if Grant King’s meltdown is any indication. King was hot and bothered during tryouts leading us to wonder just what’s going on between him and Princess Hardball.
@trojantattler: Grant King would never date that two-bit tomboy when he can have any girl in the school. Me included. I’m single Grant! – Zoe<3sdj
@trojantattler: Are tomboys even datable? – camiluvsme
@trojantattler: She looked dateable to me. Did you see those tight pants she wore to practice? HOT! – venus69
@trojantattler: Bet you $20 I can get in those tight pants ;-) – baseballer20
It turned out my skin’s not as thick as I thought. I shut my laptop with fury, wiping angry tears from my eyes. Another of my tomboy traits . . . I rarely cried.
It seemed the only time I couldn’t control my inconvenient tears was when I was angry. And right now, I was beyond angry.
How dare they judge me?
They didn’t even know me!
I steadied myself with a deep breath, grateful for the coping technique my dad taught me.
I breathed in. I control my destiny.
I breathed out. Delete negativity.
A few rounds of this and the tears retreated. I got to my feet and marched to my closet picking out what I wanted to wear, not giving another thought to what anyone else might think.
If I was going to fit in on this team, it was going to be as myself or not at all.
Grant
After an hour at the cages almost all the tension I’d felt after tryouts had drained away. As I rode my bike home, I let myself look forward to Tyler’s party. It at least meant I’d get a great meal tonight.
Tyler always went all out for his parties. His parents were loaded. They owned a bunch of local businesses in town, including Champs, the best local sports bar in Northwood and one of our biggest sponsors. That meant anytime Tyler had a throw down, you could count on pizza, wings, mozzarella sticks and corn dogs from Champs.
Like the rest of Northwood High, I lived for Tyler’s Roster Rager. Not because the beer and girls flowed freely there—which was pretty much why everyone else loved it—but because it signaled the start of baseball season. And this year, that also meant the start of my future.
My life was pretty black and white. I divided it up into two categories: during baseball season and between baseball seasons. I played fall ball, summer league and regular season. I’d be on the travel team too if I could afford it, but necessities like food and saving for a car came first.
With baseball taking up so much of my life, I knew everyone assumed it’s what I wanted to do with my life—a common misconception I was happy to let slide. It was easier than expressing the truth, which was that though I loved baseball, and was good at it, it was just a means to an end for me.
There was so much more I wanted to do with my life, so much of the world I wanted to experience. And if everything went according to plan, the sport I was born to play would get me the opportunity to do just that.
I wanted to make something of myself. I didn’t have any idea what, I just knew I wanted to do it away from my dad and this small-minded town where everyone knew me as the poor kid whose own mom couldn’t love him.
I needed to go somewhere new. Somewhere without a history. Maybe I’d go abroad. It certainly sounded appealing considering I’d never left my state. Maybe I’d be a marine biologist. Why not? I’d always wanted to see an ocean. Maybe I’d work on a ranch or at a zoo. Though it was difficult to imagine since I’d never had a pet. Maybe I’d be good at photography or journalism. More things I’d yet to have a chance to experience. There were endless possibilities if I could only find a way to get out of my mediocre life and experience the world.
I had the will and baseball was the way.
Despite how tryouts had gone, today was the start of the rest of my life.
I let the excitement fill me even as I saw my dad’s truck parked in my driveway again. I dropped my bike in front of my house and fired off a text to Lucas asking him for a ride to the party.
Lucas responded with a thumbs up before I even reached my front door. I grinned and slipped my phone into my pocket before raising my armor. I’d need it for the rest of the night—to face my dad and the gauntlet of gossip about Alex Prince that was sure to be the talk of the party. But I didn’t care. I was used to overcoming obstacles. Alex Prince
was just one more.
Chapter Seventeen
Alex
You know those movies when you walk into a room and everything stops?
Yeah. That’s my life.
Maybe I shouldn’t have come to Tyler’s party. I was part of the team and had just as much right as any of the other players to be here, but from the icy stares I was getting, I certainly didn’t feel welcome.
Did I really want to be here?
Barn parties weren’t really my scene. The kids in this town needed to get out more if this was what passed for legendary. Tyler’s Roster Rager really wasn’t much of a rager. I looked around the drafty old barn full of my classmates. With stalls of dust-cloth covered cars, it was obvious the barn hadn’t housed animals in a while, but the smell was there, nonetheless.
Despite the musty smell and frigid temperature, I guess I could see the appeal. There was food and the freedom of no adult supervision. Before I showed up, people had been enjoying themselves. Couples were getting cozy around the firepit outside, inside the barn groups were gossiping or playing beer pong and a few other party games I’d yet to learn. But even the thumping music stopped when I pushed through the creaking barn doors.
Couples peered at me over stall doors while groups of gossiping girls whispered excitedly from their perches on the random old sofas tucked into every empty crevice. My fellow teammates stopped their party games to point phones in my direction, no doubt collecting more photos for the Trojan Tattler.
The only friendly face I saw in the crowd belonged to Lucas, but he was standing next to the angriest glare I’d ever received, and those icy gray eyes belonged to none other than Grant King.
“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Grant muttered, his eyes darting to Tyler. “You invited her?”
Tyler shrugged and drained his red plastic cup. “She’s on the team, isn’t she?”
Playing the Field Page 7
