by Kelly Oram
Sure enough, Jace shouts, “Springer? Springer’s a mess! Glorified JV!”
“Jace,” Coach warns.
Jace lowers his voice and tries to speak calmly. “You have one of the highest batting averages in the entire state, and your catching stats are the best. You haven’t let anyone steal a base on you in two years. Not one. Don’t give up on us now. We have a real shot at winning the state championship. There’ll be scouts and scholarships…”
“Not for me,” I croak. I’ve been kidding myself. Wasting my time. And I’ve been missing out on so much. There’s so much about being a girl that I don’t know because I’m too busy trying to be one of the guys. It has to stop.
Jace’s frustration vanishes, and he shocks me by pulling me out of my chair and wrapping his arms around me. I’m stunned, but I melt into the embrace. He feels so solid while everything inside of me feels like a chaotic mess. “Charlie,” he murmurs. “You don’t know that for sure.”
And that just killed the mood. I pull away from him and glare. “I do know it. You know it, too; you just don’t want to admit it. No college is going to take me. My competitive baseball days end here.”
“Then don’t you think you should finish it out?” Coach asks quietly. “I don’t want you to regret walking away so close to the finish line.”
I close my eyes, but this time it’s not enough to keep the tears at bay. Several drops roll down my cheeks. Part of me will regret not finishing the season, but a bigger part of me needs more than just baseball. It can’t be my entire life anymore. If that means quitting the team, then that’s what I need to do. “What I regret is wasting so much time on something completely pointless. I need to start focusing on something that will actually help my future.”
Jace takes both of my hands and squeezes them. “Charlie, what’s really wrong? Forget the team. This is about more than just baseball. Whatever it is, quitting isn’t the answer. Tell us what’s going on, and we’ll figure it out together. We can help you.”
He’s very sweet. There’s a reason he’s the captain of our team. He’s so thoughtful, and he genuinely cares about everyone on the team. But what am I supposed to say? That I’m tired of living like a guy? Tired of being laughed at for wanting to act like a girl? That I want to learn how to shop for cute clothes and make friends with girls? Yeah. I don’t think so. I shake my head and swipe at my wet cheeks. “I’m sorry.”
Unable to take their looks of shock and disappointment, I whirl around and run out the door.
I’m not surprised to find Dad waiting for me with a worried look on his face when I get home. Of course Coach called him. When I walk into the living room, he takes one look at me and opens his arms. I fling myself at him and sink into his hug. My tears have dried up—I’ve never been a big crier, and I’m embarrassed that Jace and Coach saw me do it—but my eyes are still red and puffy, and my face is splotchy. Dad holds me tight and rocks me gently. I soak up the affection like it’s the magical cure to all my problems.
“Baby, what happened?”
I’m not about to tell him I’m heartbroken over Eric. And honestly, I’m not even sure that’s really what the issue is. I mean, yeah, I’m devastated that he doesn’t like me that way, but that’s not what drove me to quit today. It was the way the guys left me out of their prom plans and the way the entire team laughed at me.
I melt against his chest, still not able to pull myself out of his hug. “Nothing happened. I’m just tired of being a freak.”
Dad pulls me back by the shoulders so that he can frown at me. “Where is that coming from?”
I shrug. “I’m tired of being a spectacle. I’ve spent my entire life working so hard for something that has no real future for me. What’s been the point of it all? And what have I sacrificed to be this person?”
Dad’s frown deepens as if he’s insulted. “What’s that supposed to mean? What’s wrong with who you are?”
I whirl around and throw myself down onto the sofa. “I’m not normal, Dad. I’m not like other girls. They don’t want to be my friends, and guys don’t want to date me. Nobody knows what to do with that tomboy chick who plays a boy’s sport, never dresses cute, or does her hair pretty or wears makeup, and has only guy friends. The attention I get from the press doesn’t help, either. The kids at school laugh at me. Even my own team laughs at me. Even Eric, Kev, and Diego laugh at me. I’m tired of it.”
Dad’s face falls. I feel bad for admitting this because I know he’s going to think it’s his fault even though it isn’t. We lost my mom when I was six. Since then, I’ve been the only girl in Dad’s life. Consequently, I’ve also been the only girl in my life.
Right as I have the thought, Dad plunks down on the couch next to me and scrubs his hands over his face. “I’m sorry, Charlie. This is all my fault. I’m no good with all the girl stuff.”
I place my hand on his knee and give him a comforting squeeze. “It’s not your fault. You’ve always done the best you could. Mom died. Grandma passed away years ago. You, Grandpa, and the team raised me, and I’m proud of who I am. I’ve loved my life. I just…need to figure some stuff out.”
We fall silent and sit there staring off for a few minutes until Pitbull’s “Fireball” blares through the quiet room. Dad gives me a questioning look when I silence Eric’s ringtone without answering it. “I don’t want to talk to him right now,” I admit.
Dad hesitates, like he wants to say something or at least ask more questions, but he just says, “Is there anything I can do?”
I’d let him help if I had any idea how. I don’t even really know what I want, much less what to do about it. I just know I’m upset, and Eric is the last person I want to see. “No. I think I’m just going to go hit some balls. I need to work off some energy.”
Dad watches me a minute, then nods. “Want me to pitch?”
“Nah, I’ll just use the cage.”
“Okay. You still coming to the game tonight?”
I think about it. Stay home and sulk, or go to the ballpark and lose myself in the game for a few hours. No contest. “Yeah. I’m coming. I’ll just fly solo tonight.”
Dad gives me a small smile. “All right. I’m leaving in an hour and a half.”
“I’ll be ready.”
Dad leans over and pulls my forehead to his lips. “I’m here for you, kiddo. Whatever you need.”
“I know, Dad.” I slowly rise to my feet. “See you in a bit.”
“Feel better.”
I change into my practice clothes and head out back to the batting cage. (Perks of having a millionaire baseball nut for a father.) I happily lose myself in the game for the next hour. I’m in the zone, and I’ve worked up a good sweat when two male voices come out of the back of the house. One of them is Dad, but I’m not sure about the other one. It’s not one of the guys. It’s too quiet.
I turn off the pitching machine and exit the cage just as Dad walks up with Jace. I freeze, unnerved to see him here, at my house, standing in front of me, with my dad. As much as I’m sure the team would love it, I’ve never invited them over to my house. I don’t know why. I’m a private person, I guess. I don’t like people I don’t know well invading my space. But also, I just know that my house is a bit insane. I feel awkward showing it off. The team already treats me differently because of who my dad is. If they had to experience the 14,000 sq. ft. mansion I live in with the batting cage and baseball diamond in the backyard, among the million other cool features, no one would ever treat me normal.
I also have no idea how to act with Jace right now. We’ve never been close. He’s a nice guy—great shortstop and a good captain. We’re friendly with each other, but we’ve never really talked outside of baseball. Until today, when I think he asked me out on a date. I’ve never been asked out before. Ever. I was so shocked my brain crapped out on me, and I must have looked like a complete idiot.
Jace is gorgeous, and sweet, and way more popular than me. He could date almost any girl he wanted. I’m n
ot sure why he’d bother with me. If that’s even what he was doing. He didn’t specify that he wanted to take me out on a date. He might have meant we should go as friends. I don’t know. I don’t know how these things work. I have nothing to compare it to.
And then there was that hug in Coach’s office. Actually, it was more than a normal hug. I think he held me. I’ve never been held by a guy like that before. It was nice. Really nice. Does that hug make us friends? Like, real friends, and not just teammates? How am I supposed to act around him now? And what the heck am I supposed to say to him? Oh, hey, Jace. I know we’re not really friends, but let me just dump all my psycho drama on you. I don’t know how to be a girl, and Eric doesn’t like me…wah wah wah… Yeah. I’m not looking forward to that.
Dad clears his throat and breaks up the awkward moment. “Look who I found.”
Jace gives me an awkward smile. “Hey, Charlie.”
“What are you doing here?”
He grimaces, and I wince. That was rude. Way to make things even more uncomfortable, Charlie. Good going.
He rubs the back of his neck and looks at the ground. His cheeks turn pink. They did that earlier when he asked me to go to a game with him, too. It’s really cute. “Sorry. I should have called first. I was just worried. I wanted to check on you. You were so upset earlier.”
I narrow my eyes. “So you’re not here to talk me out of quitting?”
He looks back up, and his lips quirk into a crooked smile. “Maybe that, too.”
Dad watches us like we’re a Ping-Pong match, and I can see the wheels in his brain turning. Dad doesn’t want me to quit. I could see it in his eyes earlier. And he knows Jace is my team captain. Because of his job, he doesn’t get to come to most of my games, but he’ll stalk my practices when he can. He knows who all the guys on the team are. He even asks me all the time why I don’t invite them over. He’s always trying to get me to be more social than I am.
He looks at me again, and then once more at Jace, and something flashes in his eyes. When he opens his mouth, I know what he’s going to say before he says it, but there’s no way for me to stop him. Not without being a super big jerk to Jace. “You busy tonight?” Dad asks Jace. “Want to hit the baseball game with us? Charlie’s got excellent seats, and I could show you around. Maybe introduce you to some of the guys?”
Jace’s eyes widen so much I fear they might fall out of their sockets. It’s cute. I have to turn my head and suck in my cheeks to hide a smile.
That’s the other thing: I’ve never brought the team home, and I’ve never really brought Dad to them, either. They know who he is, and they’ve seen him come to our practices and games when he can, but I’ve never done the whole meet-and-greet thing. Seems a little selfish, I guess, but I just feel so awkward. Dad doesn’t get it. He’s all about doing what he can for people. He’d get season tickets for the whole team and a private practice on the field with the players, if I’d let him.
Dad looks hopeful, and Jace looks surprisingly torn. Most guys would jump all over that offer without thinking twice, but Jace looks to me with a question in his eyes, like he’ll say no if I don’t want him there. I think the fact that he’s worried about my feelings is what makes me nod. It’s sweet of him. When I give him the okay, he beams a smile at my dad. “I’d love that. Thank you, Mr. Hastings. Let me just text my parents and make sure it’s okay.”
“Cool. Tell them you’ll bring your homework and do it at the game. That’s what Charlie does. You won’t have time to finish it otherwise.”
Jace sends a text off to his parents, and Dad takes my bat from me. When Jace puts his phone away and tells us his parents said he’s good to go, Dad grins and holds the bat out to Jace. “You want to take a few swings? See if you can hit one off me? I may be old, but I can still bring some heat.”
Jace’s mouth falls open. “Seriously?”
Dad shrugs. “Sure. We’ve got about twenty minutes, and stinky here’s got to hit the showers before we go.”
A second passes before I realize what my father just said. My eyes bug out, and I choke on some spit. “DAD!”
The jerk snickers, and Jace bites back a smile.
I want to die. Jace was the first boy to ever ask me out, and my father just called me stinky in front of him. I glare at him. “I really hate you.”
Dad grins and pulls out his cell phone. “Hey, Jace, you want to see a video of Charlie’s awesome diving skills?”
I shriek again. “Dad! Don’t you dare! I will kill you!”
Dad bursts into laughter. “Better hurry up, then, slugger. Twenty minutes, and I can’t be held responsible for any photos or videos Jace sees.”
I can’t even look at Jace right now. My face is on fire, and I want to murder my father. I thrust my helmet at Jace and point a very menacing finger at my dad. “I will kill you. Literally. Murder you dead.”
I walk off to the sound of his laughter and pray he doesn’t show Jace that dumb video. He probably will. The man cannot be trusted.
When Jace and I reach our seats, he lets out a long whistle. “I was wrong this morning. The nosebleeds actually do suck.”
I laugh. “Yeah, I’m totally spoiled, and now I’ve just ruined you, too.”
He nods, eyes wide. “You really have.”
It’s been surprisingly comfortable with Jace so far. He and my dad talked baseball all the way to the stadium, and their enthusiasm and laughter went a long way in helping me relax. Plus, Jace has been fun to watch since we’ve been here—all starstruck and whatnot. We got a tour of the place, including the clubhouse, and Jace got to meet a few of the players while dad talked up his game to them. (He did hit a few off my dad earlier. Go, Jace!) It’s been fun watching him try not to fangirl about everything.
With so much going on, we haven’t had to talk about my mental breakdown, but I know it’s coming. He waits until we’re all settled in and the first inning is well under way. After the Pirates rack up their first strikeout, and we hear the naughty words the hitter grumbles at the umpire, Jace turns to me, grinning so hard it looks like it hurts. “This is incredible. It’s like we’re on the field with them.”
“We practically are. I like these seats because I can see the pitches come at me pretty well. Eric and I sit here trying to identify each pitch as it’s thrown. It’s great practice.”
“Yeah. I can imagine.” Jace shakes his head in disbelief. “Thank you for bringing me tonight. I know you probably didn’t want to after everything today. It was really cool of you to let me come anyway.”
I shrug and train my eyes on the pitcher to avoid Jace’s gaze. “You should really thank my father. I wouldn’t have extended the invite.”
“Still. You could have said no.”
I finally glance his way. “I couldn’t. Not after seeing the look on your face when Dad offered to show you around.”
Jace winces. “I knew I looked like a dork.”
I laugh. “Little bit. But it’s understandable. I’ve grown up with it, so the coolness of it all is lost on me. It’s nice to see someone enjoy the perks.”
Jace looks around at our awesome seats again and nods. “I’m definitely enjoying the perks. Seriously, thank you.”
“Eh. You’ve been decent company.”
Jace’s eyes slide to mine, and he grins this small half grin that’s almost cocky. “Yeah?”
I shrug, and my face heats up under his gaze. “So far, yeah.” I give him a pointed look and add, “Don’t ruin it.”
He chuckles and shakes his head. “Sorry. I’m about to make it awkward. I’m team captain. It’s my duty to force this conversation. And now, thanks to your dad, I have several hours where you can’t run from me.”
I snort and glance behind me up toward the announcer booth. “No doubt that was his plan all along.”
“He doesn’t want you to quit?”
“Of course he doesn’t.”
Jace cocks a brow at me. “Then maybe you shouldn’t.”
&nbs
p; I sigh.
Jace lets us fall into silence for a few minutes. I’m more than happy to watch the game and pretend we’re not doing this. I’m not going to talk if he’s not going to make me.
At the inning switch, Jace sits back and stretches out, resting his arm on the back of my chair. It’s not really around me like he’s trying to cuddle. It’s more like he’s just getting comfortable. Still. It’s strange to be so close to him like this. And, just as strange, my body is totally reacting to it.
I like how comfortable he is with me. It’s different than how Eric is, or even Kev and Diego are. It’s not flirty, exactly, but it’s charged in a way. Maybe I’m imagining it, but there’s some tension there. Something magnetic. Something that’s drawing me toward him.
While I overanalyze what his arm on my seat means, he suddenly says, “Sarah Hudek.”
I sigh. Of course I know that name. In 2015, she became the first female to ever be given a college scholarship for baseball.
Jace takes one look at me and knows I know exactly who he’s talking about. “Sure, it wasn’t a Division 1 school,” he says, “but it was still a scholarship. And you’re better than her. And then, of course, there’s the Knuckle Princess, Eri Yoshida, and Melissa Mayeux.”
Okay, Yoshida is one of my heroes, playing professional ball in the Japanese leagues, and the others are cool, but it’s not enough. “Mayeux eventually made the transition to softball,” I point out just to be argumentative. “So did Sarah Hudek.”
Jace shrugs one shoulder. “Doesn’t mean you’d have to. Look, it’s rare, but it’s not impossible. Under NCAA rules, a men’s team can give a scholarship to a female.”
He’s not telling me anything I don’t already know. That I haven’t been telling myself and hearing from my father for years. I appreciate that he’s trying, though. “Yeah, they can. But they won’t.”
He cuts me a flat look. “They won’t, if you quit.”
I sink down in my chair, deflating. “Look, I know all of this, all right? I’ve been giving myself this same pep talk for years. So has my dad and all the guys in the organization who’ve watched me grow up. That’s not it.”