Player Interference

Introduction

"Now listen," Coach Pearson starts, and we all quiet ourselves immediately. "We have one more game left. This one will be our hardest game this season, so we all need to come here to play." A wave of silence washes over us as we realize what team we're going against. Our rivals are undefeated, with 15 wins and no losses, they are the only ones who beat us before, and who have beat us every game for the past two years.

"We can beat these girls, alright? We have what it takes, we have the batting, the fielding, and the pitching-" he glances at me, and I force myself to give a small smile. "to win. We have a three days to practice starting tomorrow. I want everyone here every day after school for two hours. We'll need the entirety of this team to beat these girls. I need you all to be here with me. Are you?"

We all nod in agreement, and he rolls his eyes. "I didn't catch that. Are we going to beat Seal Bay Charter High School?"

Our voices mix with the various phrases coming out of our mouths, and the coach looks pleased with himself.

"Okay girls. Once again, amazing game today. I'll see you all at practice tomorrow. Who's calling it?" he looks around curiously.

I look to my left to see Breanna already looking at me. We say each other's names at the same time. Our coach laughs.

"Okay, say it together then."

"Monarchs on three! 1! 2! 3!"

"Monarchs!" the whole team yells together, and we all split to pack up our things in our dugout.

~~🦋🦋🦋~~

The whole ride home, Breanna talked to me about the game.

"Did you see the look on Bailee's face when you got that game ball?"

"No, I don't think I did. Maybe remind me so I know what victory feels like." I say, acting confused.

"Well, it started off with her just staring at you. The stare soon turned super angry, and then she looked like she was gonna cry." Breanna explains, grinning.

"She could have been the starter if she didn't act so self-centered." I comment as a yawn escapes my mouth.

Bree nods and turns up the radio after she yawns. I chuckle. Only one more game to go. The next time we're on our home field, we'll be seniors. The radio blares Celebrate, by Ingrid Michaelson. As the song plays, I examine my best friend driving us home. Her features are defined, as she only survives on protein bars and practically lives in the weight room at the high school. I can't find anything bad about her in her appearance, and it makes me self-conscious. Her brown hair is long, and she brushes it out of her face as she sings to the music.

Bree has been my catcher for all three years we've been playing together. At first it was kind of awkward, because she had never caught before Freshman year, and I was scared that she would make me look bad. Now, I practically sweat bullets every time I hear that she's catching for me, hoping I don't make her look bad.

"Whatcha thinkin' about, Rue?" she inquires, interrupting my thoughts.

"How amazing of a catcher you are."

"Cute. Really, what were you thinking?"

"I'm serious!" I laugh, "You started catching literally Freshman year, and now Pearson can't even sit you for one inning without us giving the other team runs!"

She smirks and takes a sideways glance at me. "That's just because you get too scared with other catchers, Rue."

I nod slowly, and silence settles between us for the rest of the way home.

~~🦋🦋🦋~~

Breanna drops me off at my house around 9:30, and from the light shining from my house, I can tell my parents are waiting up for me. They give me a small wave as I enter.

"Score?" my dad asks, hands crossed and folded over his knee.

"17-3 in the fifth."

"Wonderful game, Ruby!" my mom exclaims happily.

"I'm gonna go to bed now, if that's okay with you." I say tiredly.

"Actually, it isn't," my mother says. "You have to go take a shower first." She notices my annoyed look. "I just did laundry and you have clean sheets on your bed. I don't want any dirt stuck in that thing yet."

I groan and stomp upstairs to where the bathroom is. Standing in front of the mirror, I take in my own features. My light brown eyes stand out amidst my tanned skin, and my hair is a dark black, but seems to look brown, due to the amount of sun it has been exposed to.

Turning on the shower, I take my ponytail out and run my hands through my hair. I can feel small amounts of dirt sticking to the strands from sliding during the game. As I exaggerate my distaste for taking a shower this late, I turn on the water and let it warm up.

Once the water is a relaxing temperature on my skin, I carefully step into the shower, letting the steam engulf me. Pulling my hair up, I let the shower head slam water against the back of my neck, and I instantly feel de-stressed about our final game coming up. The water quickly begins to get cold, so I turn off the tap and cover myself in a towel before stepping out of the shower to dry my hair.

As I leave the bathroom, I can see the light from my parents' bedroom on. They always stay up for me after a game, and it makes me proud to see how dedicated they are. Unfortunately, sometimes I feel they only stay up to get the details of the game, not so much wait for me to make sure I'm okay.

After my hair is dry, I head to my room to change into a t-shirt and shorts before finding refuge in between the cool sheets of my bed, where it takes only a few moments for me to welcome sleep.