"You're throwing with me."
I turned around, smirking slightly at Alyssa.
"You think I forgot over break? Throwing partners for life, remember?"
"Damn right," she said, tossing me a ball from the bucket. She stood on the foul line of the basketball court, and I moved opposite her, about five feet away.
It was the first open gym after winter break, and we were inside loosening up before the practice began. We had just finished an hour's worth of upper-body lifting, and the girls who went were noticeably struggling more than the girls who didn't. I felt slightly worn out, but not nearly as much as I had been after the first session. Besides, I loved the after-workout feeling, when your muscles felt tight and strong. Even a slight exhaustion was rewarding to me. I really just loved to work out in general.
"Hey," Alyssa called out, snapping my attention back to her, "you gonna throw, or what?"
"Sorry," I said, flicking the ball into her glove. While I loved lifting, warming up was probably my favorite part of open gyms. Everyone was chill, joking and laughing with each other. It was a really relaxing thing, too, just throwing with someone else. I had always put so much pressure on myself to do well with my dad around, and even now, I was always hard on myself for making mistakes. It was a habit I'd probably carry with me the rest of my life.
Thanks dad.
But throwing was always one thing I could just do, without overthinking or worrying.
I kept backing up, until I was on the opposite side of the gym and we were making the longest throws we could in the limited space. I felt a little snap in my wrist as I released, and the pop the ball made as it struck the pocket of Alyssa's glove. I smiled, satisfied, as she gave me a thumbs. I trotted in. We began doing our one-on-one fielding drills, where we would roll the ball back and forth so we could practice fielding it different ways. We started with forehands, then moved on to backhands, then short hops, then finally onto pop flies, which we fielded off the bounce. These were relatively straightforward, but they got boring fast, often shortly after backhands. The repetition, plus the burning in our thighs from the fielding position we were in, made them the most widely hated part of open gyms.
After we did all of our drills, we tossed our balls back into the bucket and grabbed a drink. I picked up my water bottle, being careful not to chug too much; I'd regret it later. I set the bottle back down, picked up my glove and mask, and moved to go back to the gym floor to line up for grounders, but a voice stopped me.
"Nice job out there."
I rolled my eyes, grinning slightly. "It was just throwing, Ari. You did good too. And by the way," I added, stepping in closer so other people couldn't hear our conversation, "I'm glad you're feeling better."
I saw a brief flash of sadness in her eyes, but then it disappeared as she smirked and leaned in even closer, her nose nearly touching mine. "I always feel better when I get to see you."
A shiver traveled down my spine at her words. My mouth was suddenly dry, and I swallowed hard before I could respond. "D-do you now?"
Boy, was I proud of that one.
She laughed faintly. "Is that the best you could come up with?"
"What can I say, you tend to have that effect on me."
"Oh?" she said, pulling her face away from mine slightly and looking me dead in the eye. I saw a glint of satisfaction in those deep emerald pools. "And what effect would that be?"
I shrugged, looking her up and down slowly as I bit my lip. "You just make me a little," I paused for effect, not taking my eyes off her, "crazy."
Her cheeks turned pink and when she smiled, I couldn't help but return it. She looked so adorable when she got embarrassed, especially by my flirting.
The rest of the girls had already gone back to the gym, and soon we were alone in the little annex by the locker rooms. "We should go," she said, but the look in her eyes told me she wanted nothing more than to stay.
I sighed. "Yeah, I guess so."
As I moved to go back out, she gently grabbed my wrist, turning me back around. "Thanks again Soph. For New Years, I mean."
"Anytime," I replied seriously.
She gave me a small grin, and we walked back into the gym and got behind some random freshmen. The varsity coach was hitting grounders. Once you fielded the ball you would throw it to the JV coach, standing beside her. At first, they were easy, slow rollers you were supposed to charge in on, but gradually they would get harder and harder. They would throw in backhands, short hops, and the occasional line drive. I loved drills like this. The uncertainty of not knowing where the next hit was going, having to constantly be on your toes, was really exciting to me. I thrived in it. I tried to never let a ball get by me. Plus, by now the coaches knew that I was really good, and they would give me the hardest hits, trying to get me to miss them. I smirked as I watched the grounders hit to the people in front of me, knowing I would never get anything that easy.
I moved in front of the line, squatting slightly, on my toes, ready for the hit. Sure enough, instead of an easy ground ball, I got a sharp bouncer, careening slightly to my right hand side. Crossing my left foot in front of my right, I angled back slightly to get a better position on it. I got my glove down onto the hardwood to stop the ball, adjusting slightly upward as I saw it bounce before it got to me. I heard the SMACK sound it made as it landed straight in the pocket and stuck. I smiled slightly in satisfaction as I heard Ellie let out a whoop.
"Nice one, Miller!" the varsity coach hollered from the other side of the gym.
I threw the ball down to the JV coach, then trotted back to the end of the line. A couple of the other girls gave me high fives. I passed Madi, a sneer on her face. She held her hand out for a high five, and when I tapped it with my glove, she whispered quietly, "Nice one, dyke."
I rolled my eyes. "You can call me anything you want. I don't give a damn about what you think about me. Nice try though."
I kept on walking, getting to the end and turning around to watch Ari. She got a slightly slower grounder, off to her left. She charged in on it, making a great scoop and throwing on the run, hitting square in the JV coach's glove. Jogging back, she joined me.
"Hell of a play," I said.
She shrugged. "Yours was better."
I raised an eyebrow. "Doesn't mean yours wasn't good. That's a Big Ten play right there," I winked and nudged her arm with mine.
She crossed her arms and leaned back. "Who told you?"
"Alyssa. It's impressive," I added honestly. "I could never get offers like that."
Scoffing, she said, "Please. You're one of the best players on the team. Trust me: all it takes is patience and a little exposure."
"And grades," I sighed. Even though mine were improving, I was still pulling B's and C's in all my classes. I knew big colleges like Ohio State wanted smart people on campus, not average ones like me. Besides, the ACT score required was like a twenty-nine. I'd never taken the test before, but I knew that there was no way I could beat that. And I wasn't really cut out for college anyway.
"They don't look for grades. They look for talent. And you've got it," she pointed out.
I blushed slightly at the praise. Positive reinforcement like that was completely foreign to me. My dad had been more prone to yell at me for mistakes. He expected only the best from me; somewhere along the timeline of my career I had begun to expect it from myself.
I rubbed the back of my neck, looking at the ground as the line advanced. "Yeah, I guess so."
"What, you don't believe it?"
"I believe I'm never as good as I could be."
She eyed me, confused. "What d'you mean?"
I snorted dubiously. "I'm not good enough for myself. Never have been, never will be."
"That's dumb."
I turned around quickly, faintly surprised. Usually, when I hit people with the "I'm not good enough" mentality, they turned to what I thought of as the elementary school teacher approach.
"You are good enough, you just have to believe it."
"You're trying your best, and your best will always be good enough."
"Don't worry, someday you'll see just how great you really are."
Phrases like that, always cliche and never very moving, only served to make me gag. I could see right through them.
But Ari didn't do that. Which was new to me.
"Why?"
"It just is," she said, ignoring my questioning gaze and focusing on one of the freshman that was about to take a grounder. I watched her eyes take in the girl's form, the way her glove was raised when it should be on the hardwood, how she was back on her heels instead of forward on her toes. All in all, a sharp hit would make life very difficult on her, especially in game. I dismissed it, assuming she was an outfielder.
But Ari, being team captain that she was, called out, "Hey Coach, stop a sec."
The coach, about to swing, pulled back and nodded, letting Ari take the lead. She walked out to the girl. "What's your name, kiddo?"
"Uh, Hannah," she said, looking at Ari nervously. Smiling to reassure her, Ari said, "Hey, no worries, I'm just gonna correct your form a little."
She worked with the Hannah, showing her the correct position, teaching her to balance her weight towards her toes for easier mobility and drop her glove so she up moved with the ball if necessary.
"You'll get it," she finished, shooting Coach a thumbs-up and jogging back to her place in line behind me. I raised an eyebrow at her.
"You're a good coach."
She shook her head. "Nah, just patient."
I laughed. "No kidding. I'd be a terrible coach."
"I'm sure that's not true."
"No it is," I said, nodding. "I'm so impatient. Like my dad."
She cocked her head. "Your dad was a coach?"
I paused. "He coached my summer ball teams," I replied, hoping she would end the conversation there. I could feel the memories beginning to resurface in the back of my mind, and I really didn't need to relive them right now.
Thankfully, all she said was, "Oh, cool." I turned away towards the coaches, but I felt her eyes on my back. I knew she could see how uncomfortable I was talking about my dad. The thought of him kicking me out like he did still hurt. Those days, the night I told him, the game after...
I shuddered. It was like could feel the heat, so oppressive that day, That we had played through. League rules said--
"We're not canceling," my dad said firmly. "League rules say the actual temperature has to hit ninety. It's still only 89."
The rest of the girls sighed. It was clear they disagreed, but they were too hot to argue. I just nodded, afraid to speak, to look him in the eye.
He clapped his hands together. "Go throw a little, but save your energy. It's gonna be a hot one."
The other girls grabbed their gloves and jogged out to the left field grass. I moved to join them, but his voice stopped me.
"Get your gear on and go warm up Jess," he said. I felt his glare, but I still wouldn't meet his eyes.
"It's Lindsey's turn to catch." I had caught the last game, and that was the typical order, alternating games.
He shook his head. "You're catching. You're catching all the games."
What?
I nearly started hyperventilating. If we won this morning, which was likely, we would play two more games today. In this blazing heat, catching all three seemed impossible. How the hell was I supposed to do that? And more importantly, why did I have to? When we had another catcher with us?
"Dad, how--" I started, preparing to beg.
"Shut up. You're not my daughter. Not after the choices you've made," he cut me off with a harsh whisper. I shook my head internally. It wouldn't do for the other parents to have him renouncing his gay daughter, I thought bitterly.
"Besides, today won't be nearly as hot as where you'll end up after you die."
Though his words shocked me, a newfound glimmer of defiance emerged in me and I found the courage to look him dead in the eye. "Oh yeah? And where's that?"
His eyes narrowed. "Hell. That's where DYKES like you end up." He jabbed me in the chest with his finger, and I staggered back. But I took a determined breath.
"Whatever you say, sir," I spat, turning away angrily. I grabbed my gear and tossed it to the other end of the dugout. I wouldn't need it to help Jess, our best pitcher, warm up. Putting on one batting glove, then my catcher's mitt, I walked past him, head held high, onto the field.
I wasn't going to let him see the single tear mingling with the sweat already coating my face.
I felt a gentle push in my back.
"You're up, Soph," Ari said. Shaking myself back to the present, I got into position once more. This time, though, my vision was blurred slightly as a few tears formed in my eyes. I shook my head to clear them, and saw the coach change her feet. I knew that the next ball would go to my left, towards the line of girls. I didn't cheat any, just in case my instincts were wrong, but I leaned slightly to my glove side. The coach pulled back and hit the ball. Sure enough, it was another hard ground ball, off to my left. I crossed my right foot in front of my left, angling back once more. I stayed low, watching the ball, keeping my glove practically on the ground the entire time. The ball hurtled towards the line, and almost everyone backed up a pace or two to give me room. I watched the yellow blur spurt into my glove, but my momentum carried me forward a couple extra steps.
And my face smashed into someone's bent knee.
The tears fell from my eyes at the contact. I dropped fully to my knees now, ripping off my glove and tilting my head back, holding my nose. My eyes were closed and I could feel the blood already dripping through my fingers. There was a dull throb behind my eyes, but this pain was nothing like I'd felt a few months ago.
I glared up at the person I'd slammed into, seeing exactly who I had expected to.
"Oh my gosh, I'm so sorry," Madi simpered. Bending down, pretending to see if I was ok, she whispered, "maybe watch where the fuck you're going next time."
"Maybe get the fuck out of my way instead," I growled, keeping my voice low. I knew she hadn't moved on purpose. She knew exactly where I was going to end up, and she'd even bent her knee.
Coach jogged over to me, but I stood up, tilting my head back still.
"Miller, you ok?" she asked.
I nodded. "I'm fine. I'll get some paper towels and wait for the bleeding to stop."
"You sure?" She looked dubious, which I didn't understand. I was fine, outside of a little bloody nose.
"Yeah."
"Alright, if you say so." Obviously still uncertain, she didn't push the matter and went back to her position next to the JV coach as I left, walking quickly to the locker room. I pushed the door open and dashed into the bathroom to grab a handful of the oh-so familiar paper towels. I carefully folded them and pushed them under my nose to catch the blood before it dripped onto my clothes.
Before I headed back, I caught my reflection in the mirror. My eyes were red and my face pale. There were a few tear tracks on my face, and a few beads of sweat were on my forehead, but not from exertion. I shook my head angrily.
That damn memory.
Why did I reminisce at the worst possible times? Frankly, it was a pain in the ass. I hated how the thought of my dad would strike anywhere, anytime, and leave me like this. I tried to be strong, but there was no fighting off the memories. I really needed to move on.
But I didn't see how I could do that. Not right now anyways.
I sighed, checking the paper towel to see if the bleeding had stopped yet. There was a decent-sized bloodstain on the side I'd been using, so I refolded it and placed it back under my nose. Funny how that was the place I kept injuring. After all this it was going to end up crooked.
I checked the brown paper again, seeing there were only a few drops of blood. I balled it up and threw it into the trash can, then turned and walked towards the door once more. I tried not to look back, pretending I was leaving the lingering thoughts of the memory in there.
But I tried that trick all the time, and it never lasted forever.