Playing the Field

by Christina Benjamin

  This was going to be a long game.

  Chapter Forty-Four

  Alex

  Top of the ninth and we were up by one. The game was a nail biter. As much as our two teams had been trash talking on the Tattler, I had to admit we were evenly matched. The Knights were heavy hitters, but so far, we’d been answering them run-for-run.

  We pulled ahead by one in the last inning when Lucas hit a dinger over the fence! The whole place went wild, especially Lucas since it was his first home run ever! Me and Casey jumped up and down in the dugout, cheering like crazy as Lucas jogged the bases, taking his sweet time so he could soak up every minute of glory.

  The next play quickly stifled our high when Colton made a killer catch to end the inning. He sneered at me as he walked off the field and I cracked my knuckles, anticipating a shot at him. I knew he was early in the lineup and I planned to show him exactly how much trouble a tomboy could be when he got up to bat.

  “Go get ‘em, Princess,” Grant said, giving me a wink as I walked onto the field.

  I blew him a kiss and took my spot, ready to play.

  Tyler struck out their first batter, but the second got on base.

  One on, one out.

  The next Knight to bat hit a screamer to the outfield. Asher Shaw made a great play and hurled the ball to Jesse Reyes at third, but the runner was already barreling toward the base. The throw was high, and Jesse had to leap for it. He snagged it but didn’t have time to brace for the collision coming at him in the form of an angry Knight.

  To me the catch looked good, but Jesse wasn’t. He’d held his ground to try for the out, but his ankle paid the price. I’d watched him roll it on the base and now he was writhing on the ground in pain.

  Coach called time and we all ran to help Jesse, while both teams awaited the official call.

  “I got the out, right?” Jesse asked through gritted teeth.

  “I don’t know,” I replied.

  We all held our breath, then burst into a riot when the umpire yelled, “Safe!”

  After boisterously voicing our distaste for the ump’s vision, Tyler and Lucas helped me drag Jesse off the field.

  A quick dugout examination by our trainer determined Jesse most likely had a break in his rapidly swelling ankle.

  “Are your parents here, Jesse?” Coach asked.

  “Yeah.”

  “Good. Casey, run up to the stands and get them. Jesse needs to go to the hospital.”

  “No!” he protested. “Not yet. I’m not leaving till the game is over.”

  Coach grumbled his contempt but agreed. I watched him survey the dugout. I knew normally in this situation he’d use an experienced infielder to cover third base, but considering his best option was out with a stitched-up hand, he looked between Owen Hart and Levi Snyder. Both underclassmen were green, and their faces turned the same color at the prospect of going in under such high stakes.

  “Owen,” Coach started, but I cut him off.

  “Put Grant in,” I said.

  Everyone looked at me as a hush fell over the dugout.

  “Grant’s injured,” Coach replied.

  “His catching hand isn’t,” I countered.

  Catching on, Grant spoke up. “She’s right. Colton’s up next. He’s gonna hit to Alex. If she gets him out, I’ll catch anything she throws my way for the double.”

  That was exactly the play I’d been envisioning. Grateful Grant could read my mind, I moved to stand next to him in a show of solidarity. To my surprise, so did Tyler.

  “Put him in, Coach,” Tyler said. “If anyone can make that play it’s these two.”

  Lucas followed suit, standing behind us and putting a hand on each of our shoulders. “I agree. Put him in.”

  Before I knew it the rest of the starting lineup was standing behind us, championing my suggestion to let Grant play. The faith they had in us made my chest swell with pride. I was no longer just a girl, a princess, a tomboy—I was a Trojan.

  “Cunning triumphs together!” I shouted.

  “Trojans!” my teammates roared and without waiting for Coach’s approval we took the field, Grant and I in perfect step.

  Two on, one out.

  With a runner on first and third, I took my position as Colton McKenna walked up to the plate. He tapped his bat against home plate with a cockiness that fueled my focus. Tyler tossed the ball in his hand a few times before looking back at us from the pitcher’s mound. I looked at Grant and he gave me a nod. Letting his support bolster steady me I took one last deep breath. Then I met Colton’s stare and grinned.

  Bring it!

  Grant

  It was a thing of beauty to watch Tyler throw two strikes past Colton’s pinched face. With each one I could see him unraveling, his frustration eating away at his focus. I knew all too well what that was like. It wasn’t that long ago that I’d let my ego get in my way. It had almost kept me from the girl of my dreams, but thanks in part to Colton, I’d realized my fault and now my life had never been better.

  Okay, one thing would make it better.

  Watching my badass girlfriend get him out would be the icing on the cake.

  I watched Tyler wind up on the mound readying to throw another heater right over the plate, but before he released, I caught Lucas’s sign for a curveball and felt my heart drop. Colton was one of the only guys in the league brave enough to take on Tyler’s curveball, and as I watched Colton’s eyes narrow, I knew he was going to swing.

  I heard it first—the sound of aluminum cracking off the ball. My eyes left Colton and went straight to Alex. She was already in motion, running to make the impossible play. Colton had clobbered the ball and took off like a horse from the starting gate, but so did Alex, diving to make the catch.

  She lunged glove extended, rolling to the ground and popping back up almost as quickly as she’d gone down. She was so fast there was barely time to decipher if she’d caught the ball or not, but I knew she had.

  She was Alex Freaking Prince!

  So, when a white blur came rocketing in my direction, I wasn’t surprised. I kept one foot planted firmly on third and extended my mitt, not giving a second glance to the runner sprinting toward me like a freight train.

  I felt my mitt close around the ball seconds before the Knight found third base. Time froze as everyone waited for the call.

  “Double play! Final out!” the umpire yelled. “Trojans win!”

  The crowd erupted around us, players and fans rushing onto the field to celebrate the incredible double play, but I only had eyes for one person, and she was running toward me with her arms open as wide as my heart.

  “You did it!” Alex screamed, leaping into my arms.

  “We did it!” I answered and then I kissed her.

  Victory had never tasted so sweet!

  Epilogue

  Casey

  Trojan Tattler:

  Dynasty Domination! Fans got a treat this weekend as our favorite Royal Duo led the Trojans to victory at the season closer. Their undefeated season guarantees them a spot in the Championship. Look out State, Trojans spell trouble with a capital TOMBOY!

  My fingers traced my tingling lips as I read the latest Tattler post. Our last win had been epic, but not quite as epic as kissing Lucas Hargrove. The first thing he did after catching the game ending out was toss off his catcher’s mask and sweep me off my feet right in front of everyone! Including his coach—aka my dad!

  I don’t know how to describe my first kiss to you. I also don’t know if it was so epically awesome because the lips to first touch mine belonged to my long-standing crush, Lucas Hargrove, but I’m not going to dwell on that. I’m going to dwell on how we finally got there.

  It’s quite a journey . . . and with any luck, one that’s just beginning.

  Make sure you check out all the books in the Tomboy series .

  Playing the Enemy by Maggie Dallen

  Playing to Win by Stephanie Street

  Playing the Field by Christina
Benjamin

  or start reading Christina’s YA Series

  Prep School Boyfriend Academy

  The Practice Boyfriend

  By Christina Benjamin

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  This book is a work of fiction. Any references to historical events, real people, or real locales are used fictitiously. Other names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination, and any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without written permission of the publisher.

  Copyright © 2017 by Christina Benjamin

  All rights reserved.

  Published in the United States by Crown Atlantic Publishing

  Version 1.1

  January 2017

  Chapter One

  The ping of her online chat window startled Hannah Stark from her studies. She quickly muted her laptop and pulled up the conversation—rolling her eyes when she saw who it was from.

  techE: Hey I thought you were at school???

  Str8-A: I am. Stalk much?

  techE: Just wondering what my little genius is doing online.

  Str8-A: Research. The internet is a wondrous thing. You should check it out.

  techE: Internet’s got nothing on me. But for real, what’s up? You ditching class?

  Str8-A: No. If you must know I’m in the library working on my grad speech, but it’s hopeless. Nothing I write is remotely relatable.

  techE: What do your friends say?

  Str8-A: I have no friends, remember?

  techE: Why don’t you do something about that???

  Str8-A: Yeah in the 4 weeks of school left?

  techE: It’s never too late to start. You can do anything you set your mind to.

  Str8-A: Thanks for the pep talk, Dad. Now scram. You’re making me look lame.

  Hannah scanned the stuffy library of her overly priced prep school. Luckily no one seemed to notice she’d been chatting online with her dad. But that was the problem, wasn’t it? No one ever noticed her. Case in point—why she had no friends and had spent the first half of her lunch period chatting with her tech-geek dad who routinely hacked her computer to check for viruses. Basically he was spying on her. But he couldn’t help it. It was sort of his job being in the biz and all.

  Hannah stretched her stiff muscles before deleting another perfectly good graduation speech. There was one month of school left and she was already done—coasting on autopilot. She was first in her class, graduating with honors and her associate degree. The last thing she had to do was write the speech she’d give as the class valedictorian. But for some reason that task eluded her.

  The more YouTube videos she watched of glossy-eyed seniors giving stellar speeches that ended in an eruption of applause the more Hannah realized she’d finally found something that her academic mind couldn’t solve. The legendary valedictorians that had gone before her all had something Hannah didn’t—a life!

  She groaned and massaged her temples in frustration before opening a blank word document. She never had trouble writing. It was her specialty. Even now, she knew her writing wasn’t really the problem. The problem was that she couldn’t make herself believe anything she wrote. She couldn’t relate to her classmates. She never had, and it seemed absurd that suddenly they’d want to hear anything she might have to say regarding fond memories and bright futures. She didn’t make any with them.

  Sadly, Hannah hadn’t really made any memories in high school at all—outside of her education, of course. But no one wanted to hear about her math medals or writing awards. They didn’t care that she was the youngest student to ever be accepted into Brown’s business school. They didn’t care that she’d been offered full ride scholarships to play tennis at six schools. They wanted to be reminded of the good times they’d shared and how their bonds formed at Stanton Prep had molded them into strong individuals ready to take on the world. But how could she say all those things when she didn’t believe them herself?

  She felt like a liar talking about carefree moments and wild memories that led to the precipice of their brave new future. Her classmates all knew she was a fraud on that front. She’d never gotten to know them. She’d been afraid to let them look too deep.

  The more Hannah tried to force herself to come up with something to say, the more anxious she felt. How had she let her entire high school career pass her by? That was just it. She looked at high school as a career. She’d forgotten to be a teenager, to fall in love, get her heart broken, forge friendships, share adventures, make poor choices, then learn from them, cherishing those bonds and memories forever.

  The tightness in Hannah’s throat told her tears were coming. This was it. She’d finally lost. School had always been a competition to Hannah. Having the best grades, the highest test scores, an undefeated tennis title, the most acceptance letters, beating everyone out for the coveted valedictorian title. She’d done it all. But the entire time, she was always looking over her shoulder, waiting for someone or something to best her and snatch away her perfect record. The fact that it was something as simple as not indulging her adolescence that was her undoing made Hannah’s blood boil.

  Her father’s encouraging words replayed in her mind. Maybe it wasn’t too late to start. She made up her mind. There was no way she was going to lose now. She’d given up all those foolish teenage experiences so she could be the best. How was it fair that what she’d given up to achieve perfection now made her feel like she was somehow incomplete?

  Hannah straightened her spine and slammed her laptop shut. She took a deep breath. She would not let this stupid speech unnerve her. There was no reason she couldn’t have it all. Who said she couldn’t be studious and popular? She would resort back to her tried and true techniques for success—studying and practice.

  How hard could it be to fit in? To be an average teenager? She’d never tried, but she had four weeks to cram in an entire high school social life. Hannah’s father was right. If anyone could achieve it, Hannah knew it would be her. She was determined and when she set her mind on a goal, she always achieved it.

  Chapter Two

  Step 1: Immersion

  Hannah reasoned she just needed to immerse herself into a clique, study them and then join in. Maybe she could even handle a different clique each week? She scanned the quad deciding where to start. It was lunch this period and the lush green grounds of Stanton Prep were dotted with clusters of students enjoying the thawed spring weather. There were the jocks, freaks, geeks, flunkies, and of course, on the bridge that overlooked the campus, were the Goldens.

  The Goldens were the popular kids. Someone at Stanton Prep coined the term long ago, donning all the trust fund brats, socialites, and celebrity offspring as the proverbial golden children. Born with more than a silver spoon in their mouth, these social climbers made the rules at Stanton.

  Everyone wanted to be, date, or kill one of the Goldens. Knowing exactly where they’d be at this hour, Hannah zeroed in on them. They always held court on the bridge at lunch. Everyone passed under it each day to enter and exit their campus, giving the Goldens the perfect view of their kingdom.

  Hannah heard laughter coming from what her fellow classmates snidely referred to as the Golden Gate Bridge. She gazed studiously at the bright clothing and shiny hair peppering the stone bridge. That’s where she would focus. The Goldens would be her Everest. If she could crack them she could gain access to any clique in the school.

  Game on.

  Step 2: Recon

  Hannah picked up her bagged lunch and moved closer to the bridge, settling directly below a cluster of three gorgeous senior girls. Savannah Hu
xley, Madison Carmichael and Blakely Anderson. They were all yammering on excitedly about something. Hannah silently chewed her PB&J listening intently.

  “Madi . . . really? I think you can do better than Vera Wang,” Blakely scoffed.

  “What’s wrong with Vera?”

  “Nothing if you don’t mind looking outdated.”

  Madison’s perfectly glossed lips parted in shock. “Vera is classic!”

  “Yeah, classic last year maybe.”

  Savannah piped up. “She’s right, Madi. You wore Vera last year.”

  “But she’s a close friend of Daddy’s. I feel bad wearing someone else.”

  “This is the last Cohl ball. It’s the culmination of our high school reign. Our dresses need to be perfection,” Savannah added. “This is how we will be remembered.”

  Harrison Cohl’s masked ball! That was it. That was Hannah’s ticket to high school social success. Harrison Cohl was one of the Goldens. Okay, more like the Golden. His parents, Alastair and Evelyn Cohl, were powerful politicians. They’d divorced over an alleged affair when he was a child but still worked together, each holding power positions in Boston’s governing party. The Cohl’s practically owned the state—a title their sons were happy to tout. And with a political safety net like that, the Cohl boys got away with everything. Including throwing hedonistic parties full of underage drinking, sex and debauchery.