The coaches told me I was done. Coach Herndon offered to give me a ride home. When we got into the car, Mike couldn’t hold it in any longer.
“Dad, how fast was he?”
He caught my eye in the rearview mirror.
“The last five pitches were seventy-four miles per hour.”
That didn’t sound good. I thought major league pitchers threw fastballs at least ninety miles per hour. Mike thought differently.
“Are you kidding me?”
Mr. Herndon had a smile on his face. He could see I was confused.
We pulled up to my house and he put the car into park.
“Most high school varsity pitchers throw between seventy-five and eighty-five miles per hour. For JV ball, you’ll look like Nolan Ryan. With a little practice, you’ll be right there. Most freshman pitchers are throwing in the high sixties or low seventies. Plus, you could throw that all day. I could tell you weren’t ripping it. I’ll teach you a changeup, and Moose will regret not letting freshmen play varsity ball.”
I WAS FEELING BETTER when I went into the house. Mom had put a plate in the fridge for me. It was chicken, so I just ate it cold while I put together a salad. I’d missed my after-school workout, so I changed and went running. When I came back, I took a shower. We had a standing Algebra study-group video chat. There were five others on. I was surprised to see Suzanne. She helped us with a sticky concept. I thought I knew it, but after she was done I realized I still only half-understood it before she cleared it up.
I logged off and went to bed.
Tuesday March 4
I WAS HAVING A PLEASANT lunch as I zoned out, letting the group’s conversation just roll off me. I suddenly felt the tip of a tongue lick the edge of my ear. That sent shivers all through my body and I let out a grunt of surprise. I turned to see who see who’d molested me. It was Lisa Felton; she had a smile plastered on her face. She hopped onto my lap and wrapped her hands around my neck.
Lisa leaned forward and whispered into my ear.
“Before Christmas, you made a promise to me. I’ve been very patient. Now you no longer have a girlfriend. Is there a reason you’re ignoring your commitments?”
Mr. Happy stiffened to let her know he was on board. He just needed to convince the big brain to get his priorities straight. Well, this ‘stupid boy’ couldn’t come up with a good reason not to, so I smiled at her.
“What are you doing Saturday night?” I asked her.
“Are you asking me out?” she asked back.
Jim was about to have a fit. Cassidy clearly had plans to kill me. Tracy cleared her throat. I looked at Tracy and arched my eyebrows.
“Better check your calendar,” she offered.
I grabbed my tablet. Tracy still got my calendar updates. I hadn’t dealt with the business side of our breakup yet. I planned to put that on my to-do list. I made a mental note to let Kendal know.
Crud, I would be in Miami to do a photo shoot with Adrienne this weekend. I mentally slapped myself. I ‘had’ to go to Miami to do a photo shoot with Adrienne! She’d promised there would be little itsy-bitsy bikinis involved.
Let’s see ... stay here, freeze my butt off, and spend time with Lisa ... or go to sunny Miami and hang out with Adrienne and do a photo shoot with her and whomever, all half-naked. No contest. Adrienne won, every time. Plus, the twins were, in fact, single. They were going to be in the shoot, too. Talk about piling on.
I gave Lisa my best disappointed face.
“I’m sorry, I have to be out of town this weekend. Can we get together next weekend?” I asked.
“I’ll have to check my calendar and get back to you,” she said in a snarky response.
“You do that,” I said, and pushed her up off my lap.
She stared at me, open-mouthed because I’d dismissed her like that. She turned and marched off.
“Dude, are you nuts?” Mike asked me.
“No, he just took control. She’ll be back soon, and begging his forgiveness,” Gina shared.
“No way. She’ll never talk to him again,” Ed announced.
“Wanna bet?” Tracy asked.
“Ed, don’t throw your money away. Two smart girls have just told you that she’ll be back. I’d listen to them,” I advised him.
He cupped his head in his two hands and rubbed his forehead as if he were having a migraine.
“I’m never going to get laid,” Ed moaned.
The whole place erupted in laughter. Poor Ed could be the author of the soon-to-be best-seller, Fifty Shades of Red, if his face was any indication.
“Why didn’t you say something? You may actually have to go on a date first, but ...?” Cassidy asked, and she got up, grabbed his hand and led him off.
We all watched in amazement as she introduced him to a freshman at another table who was sitting alone. Cassidy came back with a smile on her face. Ed and the girl seemed to be hitting it off.
When she came back, Jeff, Mike and Wolf all had their hands raised. She gave them each a look that said they were idiots.
“Jeff, turn to your right,” she told him.
Sitting next to him was one of the freshman girls who’d been coming to lunch. The light bulb went off in his head as he smiled. Wolf and Mike still looked confused.
“Hey, dummies, who’s sitting next to you?” I asked them.
They both turned and there was a smiling freshman girl for each of them. They hadn’t realized that the girls always sat next to the same guy. My ‘stupid boy’ friends had just not caught on. I felt pretty good about myself for figuring it out. Then Gina laughed at me.
“What?” I asked defensively.
She pointed to my right. Tracy was sitting there. Even Tracy burst out laughing. I stuck my tongue out at Gina who just gave me a knowing look.
BEFORE THE SECOND DAY of tryouts, Moose had posted a list of who’d been cut. Alan looked relieved when his name was on the list. My name was on the list, but it had been crossed out. I wanted just to go home. If that was what Moose thought of me, to hell with him! I decided to make him regret not playing me.
I went into the locker room, mad at the world. Everyone seemed to sense my mood and left me alone. As soon as practice started, I was focused and gave it everything I could. In the fielding drills, I was going after everything. Even if it was out of reach, I dove for it. I was able to snag a handful of them. By the end of that drill, my jersey was covered in dirt.
Next up was batting practice and Moose was pitching. The first ball I hit a screamer right back at him. Luckily, he got out of the way. He called for Coach Herndon to take over and took me aside.
“Son, what is your problem? You have been copping an attitude since yesterday.”
Dad had told me about guys like this: old and set in their ways. There was no changing their minds, so why bother.
“I don’t understand. I’ve just been hustling, sir,” I said, almost forgetting the ‘sir.’
‘Sir’ is reserved for someone you respect. I was taught to respect my elders. But you just didn’t embarrass someone like that. To single me out as being almost cut was bullshit.
“I don’t have time for your attitude. You’ve had a scowl on your face for two days. If you have a problem, spit it out.”
“I think I’m good enough to play varsity ball.”
“Did I not say there were no exceptions? I have a system in place. It has worked for twenty-five years. I have a team to get ready for their first game in a week and a half. I don’t need to hand-hold a freshman when he isn’t going to be playing varsity anyways. Hell, I don’t even know why I’m wasting my breath on you,” he said as he threw his hands in the air. “I know you’re a gifted athlete. I watched what you did on the football field. But if you ask me, you shouldn’t have been in that position. There was too much chance of you getting hurt. Just because you can play varsity, doesn’t mean you will.”