Old Bones: A Collection of Short Stories

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Old Bones: A Collection of Short Stories Page 8

by Steve Campbell

Now

  THE FANS IN in the rickety metal and wood bleachers behind me jump to their feet as Danny laces a hit over the second baseman’s head. The spectators on the Franklin High School’s side of the diamond moan at first, and then shout encouragement to their pitcher. The Franklin Yellow Jackets players do the same.

  I glance again at Julie and forget about the game happening in front of me. I think of the past month when it became hard for me to stay focused on anything for long. It was when my grades took a turn for the worse, when my hitting slump started, when—

  Players dodge and dive around me and bring me out of my reverie.

  “Fire in the hole,” someone shouts as the foul ball skirts past me and ricochets off the bench, and then sails back onto the field. I sneak another glance at Julie. Her face and hair glow more luxurious as the evening sun reddens toward the horizon.

  Never have I seen such beauty. I am stricken.

 

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