Two Broken Souls

chapter ten

After class on Friday, as I was walking with Harry to his locker to grab our eggs, Emily Ward ran towards us like someone was chasing her. "Mia," she gasped out of breath. "We need you." She pulled me forward and I looked at Harry who quickly followed behind.

Emily dragged me all the way to the newsroom where senior editor chief; Violet Hart was sitting at her desk with her laptop.

She looked up when she saw me.

She explained that Tim O'Hara, a junior, was out sick with a doctor's note and now she needed someone to write a story about the baseball game happening tonight.

I made a face. "You know, I don't write anymore."

"Mia, please. I wouldn't be asking under any other circumstance." Violet begged and I thought about it for a moment. Violet knows why I stopped writing.

"I don't even know anything about baseball."

"I'll go to the game and explain it to you." Harry spoke. I completely forgot that he was here.

"That could work." Violet agreed, silently pleading with me.

"I'll write the story, but I need someone else to edit and publish it." I said.

Violet nodded. "Send me the rough draft and I'll have Tim finish it off."

At the field, Harry and I sit down in the bleachers, where we've got a pretty good view of home plate through the chain-link fence. We're on the side that's closer to the visiting-team dugout, and I can see a few of the Langston guys, clad in blue and white, playing catch.

"It's called warming up," says Harry.

"I know," I responded. I might not know much, but I at least knew that.

One of the juniors, Spencer Dawson, notices Harry and waves. "Harry," he yells. He and a senior, Adam Gibson, jog over to the fence.

"How's it going?" Harry calls out, grinning wide.

"You gonna pitch for us today?" says Adam. "I'll let you start."

"Nah, man, still recovering." Harry points at his elbow.

"Yeah, yeah," says Spencer. "That's why we're stuck with this guy."

"Go fuck yourself, Dawson," Adam says cheerfully."

Harry surveys the blustery sky, which is cloudless and unnaturally bright. "You guys gonna be alright in this wind?"

"Dude, it sucks." Adam pulls his cap down while Spencer shakes his head and makes the sign of the cross.

"Hey, aren't you that newspaper girl?" asks Adam, acknowledging me for the first time. Spencer elbows him, as if trying to keep him civilized, but Adam looks from Harry to me and then winks. "Guess you guys made up, huh?"

I feign innocence. "About what?"

"All right," the umpire hollers. "Let's go!"

As the guys take their places. Mills out on the field, Langston in the dugout except for Spencer, who's the first one up to bat. The wind picks up, swirling the dirt into a Dust Bowl situation that takes a solid minute to settle down. Harry and I have to hitch our collars up over our faces to avoid breathing it in.

Finally, the umpire gives a signal to start. The Mills pitcher, a pale redhead with gangly legs, winds his arm.

Spencer makes it to first base, though Dawson proceeds to eviscerate our next two hitters like the Santa Anas are barely a light breeze. But then it's time for Jared Adams to step up to the plate.