Hitting for Glory

Chapter One

"Hannah, you're going to be late if you don't get up soon. I don't think you want to be late again." Mom yelled up the stairs. She was probably already dressed in her 'professional business suit' which included a skirt that barely covered her butt, a blouse that only had two buttons buttoned to show off her cleavage, and a jacket that pushed her breasts up and made them the focal point of men in her meetings. My mom is a very successful business woman that has climbed the ladder and is now the CEO of a major electronics company. She says that she just has the determination and charisma that appeals to the male masses, I say that it's the way that she dresses like a slut that made the men want to promote her. Dad left years ago when she started to spend about eighteen hours a day at work every day seven days a week, she might as well live there now and if it wasn't for me, I'm sure she would.

"I'm up, Mom. Have a good day at work." The typical morning conversation with Mom. I got up and walked to my closet to pick out my outfit for the day before I get into the shower. Unlike most people, I'm not proud of my super sexy, super gorgeous mom, she just looks at me like I am gum stuck to the bottom of her shoe. She is stick thin while I could stand to lose a few pounds, she has absolutely gorgeous brown hair, I got stuck with my dad's dull blonde hair. She has fashion sense, I don't. About the only thing I got from her are my eyes. They are a dark blue with specks of green in them.

I picked out my usual clothes, a nice t-shirt and some jeans, before I went to the bathroom that is connected to my bedroom. I took a long shower, since I had plenty of time to get ready, and walked out of the bathroom. 

I headed downstairs where Marisol, the 'help' as Mom likes to call her, was waiting with my bag and breakfast, "Good morning Hannah."

"Good morning Marisol." I said, kissing her cheek and taking the bag and plate of eggs and bacon she was holding out to me. Marisol has been more of a mom to me than my own mother. She spends more time here, seeing as she basically lives here five days a week, and has been here since I was around four.

"Do you need a ride to school?" Marisol asked, a smile on her face as always.

I shook my head, "No, but you should get started on the cleaning. You need a break. I'll make dinner when I get home."

Marisol smiled at me, "No need. It's my job."

Her accent made my day brighten. She didn't speak broken English, but she did have to stop and think about what to say sometimes. Her thick Spanish accent gave away her Spaniard heritage and her laugh sounded like Sofia's Vergara's.

I shook my head, "I want to practice cooking, for whenever I go to college. I only have a few months, you know."

Marisol sighed, "If your mother comes home, I'll make dinner. You cook if she doesn't."

I smiled, "Perfect. I'll see you after school."

I grabbed my bag and handed her my empty plate before I headed for the garage to find my 2015 white Escalade. I hopped into the driver's seat and started the drive to school.

When I arrived, everyone stared at my car. I guess it was pretty expensive, but almost everyone here knew who I was because of my mom. She was the head of the PTA and always donated money to the school to help pay for things, which the principal never forgot to mention.

I groaned as the local mean girl and class A bitch walked up to my car, "Where did you get this?"

I rolled my eyes and walked past her, "I'm just trying to get to class."

She grabbed my arm and turned me around, "What, are you too good for me now? I just want to know where you got it."

I shrugged her hand off of me, "My mom got it from Cadillac for my birthday."

She scoffed, "Really? You're mom go you that? Are you sure you didn't steal it? Seems too nice to be yours."

I turned around and walked away to find my locker. When I found it I sighed in relief that it wasn't vadalised like it usually is around softball season. Most of the girls trying out hate me, probably because most of them want to be pitcher but suck ass, and I have started since freshman year. Starting pitcher all four years of high school. Something colleges pay attention to.

I opened my locker and threw my bag in after I had taken out a pencil and some spirals that I knew I would need for class. I just left my binder in my locker because it took up too much space on my desk and I only took it to class if absolutely necessary. 

My first hour is Spanish 4 and I am nearly bursting with excitement. Note the sarcasm.

I walked into the classroom and saw that no one had gotten there yet, even though there was, like, five minutes until the bell rang, so I sat down in the back corner by the window. I rested my head on my arms and waited for the bell to ring. 

The warning bell rang about four minutes later and everyone started to slowly file into the room. I felt someone standing over me so I looked up and saw none other than Jason Tyler. Jason Tyler is the school's starting pitcher on the baseball team and is expected to get college scouts calling from all over. In St. Louis, baseball is a very big thing, especially in my school.

Jason glared at me, "You're in my seat."

I decided that it would be best to ignore him and stared out the window. Turns out it had started raining, probably why the hallway had gotten so loud.

Jason cleared his throat, "I said, 'You're in my seat'."

I turned to look at him and saw his baseball buddies glaring at me too. I sighed, too tired to argue about this, and moved to the seat in front of me.

"Thanks, slut." Jason snarled.

I pursed my lips in annoyance. Jason has always bullied me, even when we were little. I guess her resents me for my mom beating his dad for a huge promotion that would've jump started his career as a business man like it did my mom, or maybe it's the fact that freshman year, I tried out for the baseball team for the pitcher position and almost beat him for the position. Only reason I didn't get it was because the varsity softball coach promised me a starting position if I joined the team.

The teacher started the lesson which included us listening to her say the words on the board in Spanish and then we had to repeat them. Pretty boring if you ask me. If my mom hadn't forced me to take this class again, I wouldn't even be in here and having to deal with Jason saying insults about me very loudly so that the whole class could hear and laugh along with him.

"Did you hear about her dad?" Jason said, my eyes widened at the thought that he would bring something like that up.

"No, what about him?" Kyle, the school's catcher and Jason's best friend, asked.

"I heard he hated Hannah so much that he left her and her mom for another woman. Who could hate their daughter that much?" Jason said.

I stood up, grabbing my stuff, and ran out of the room. Tears stained my cheeks as I ran for the safety of the field. I knew no one would be there since it would be a muddy mess and I couldn't get there fast enough.

I was almost to the exit when I heard footsteps coming after me, "Hey, wait up!"

I ran faster, ignoring the person. I reached the doors and was about to push them open when a felt a hand on my shoulder.

"Hannah, stop." I heard the person say. I slowly turned and looked up at the first basemen, Carter.

"What do you want, Carter?" I asked. I nearly flinched at how hard my voice sounded.

Carter put his hands on my shoulders and looked me in the eyes, "Jason's an ass, we all know that, but you shouldn't run from your problems."

I chuckled, "Yeah, because someone telling you that your dad hates you is a problem. It's not a problem, it's a way to hurt someone and I hope he is happy he succeeded. Now, I am going to go to the field. Without you. Go back to class."

Carter sighed and nodded, turning back to get back to class, "Don't skip school, it's the beginning of baseball, after all."

I barely let him finish his sentence before I opened the door and started to walk toward the solitude of the softball field.