It was game day. The kind of day where the sun blazed brightly over Riverbank High, and everything seemed to hang in the balance. The championship game against the Fireball Eagles was today, and there was no way I was letting anything, or anyone, ruin my chance to shine.
The atmosphere was electric, buzzing with anticipation, but as always, my focus wasn't on the game itself. No, my eyes were on her-Samantha St. Onge. She was there, just like the rest of us, in her varsity uniform, doing her best to blend into the background. But no matter how much she tried to hide, I could always see her. She never really disappeared.
I knew Sam wasn't going to get any playtime today. Not after the way she'd messed up all season. She was just a filler on the roster, a body in the dugout to make up numbers. But that didn't stop her from hoping. I could see it in the way her eyes occasionally darted toward the field, like she expected something to change.
It wouldn't. She wasn't good enough. She never had been.
As I walked past her on the sidelines, I couldn't resist leaning in, just close enough for her to hear me.
"Don't get too comfortable, St. Onge. You're not gonna see any action today."
I saw the way she flinched, the way her breath caught in her throat. God, she's so easy to break.
But then, out of nowhere, something unexpected happened. Hannah, that annoying little freshman who thought she could save the world, stepped up and called out to Coach Willis. The look in her eyes made it obvious she had some scheme up her sleeve. I watched with barely contained amusement as Coach Willis raised an eyebrow at her, then turned to Sam, who was still sitting on the bench, as always.
"Sam," Coach called out, "you're in. You're playing today."
It was like the world stopped for a second. My heart skipped a beat, and I felt a surge of irritation that I quickly shoved down. This wasn't happening. There was no way Coach was serious. Sam had no business being out there.
But the truth was, Hannah had faked an injury. She'd done it for Sam. And now, there was no choice but to let her play.
I could feel the anger bubbling in my chest, but I forced myself to stay calm. I couldn't let Sam see how much it bothered me. Instead, I turned my attention to the game, to the real players-the ones who mattered.
The inning started, and there Sam was, standing in the outfield. She looked so out of place, so awkward, but I was too focused on the ball to pay her much attention. She didn't matter.
At least, that's what I told myself.
But then, something strange happened. A crack of the bat echoed across the field, and the ball soared through the air, heading right toward Sam. My eyes locked onto it in disbelief.
She didn't hesitate. She shouted out, "I got it! I got it!"
I watched, breath held, as she stumbled in her oversized cleats, but then-she caught it.
She actually caught it.
The crowd went silent for a moment, and I could see Sam's face light up with this goofy, proud grin. It was the first time in forever that she'd actually done something right.
My heart dropped.
The whole team was cheering, clapping, even Coach Willis was smiling in surprise. But I was frozen. I couldn't move. I couldn't take my eyes off her.
That little, insignificant girl had stolen my spotlight.
I saw Hannah running toward her, arms wide open, clearly ecstatic. Sam was still standing there, the ball firmly in her glove, looking as if she couldn't believe what she'd just done. She was glowing.
It made me sick.
But there was nothing I could do. Not right now, anyway. Jake was cheering from the dugout, and the rest of the team was all over Sam, praising her. I could feel my hands ball into fists.
This wasn't supposed to happen. This was my game. I was the one who was supposed to be the hero.
I couldn't let her get away with this.
The rest of the inning passed in a blur. I stayed focused, threw my pitches, but it was hard to ignore the sting in my chest. Sam had taken something from me today, and I wasn't going to let it slide.
Finally, the last inning arrived. The score was tight-5 to 6 in favor of the Fireball Eagles, with two outs left. This was it. This was where the game would be decided.
It should've been me, on that mound, throwing the last pitch. But Sam-that girl-had thrown everything off balance. And I hated her for it.
I tried to shake the feeling off. I couldn't let it show. I was still the star here. I would still get us the win.
The tension in the air was palpable, and as I stepped up to pitch, I could feel my pulse pounding in my ears. I didn't even care about the game anymore. I cared about one thing-and one thing only.
I was going to make Sam regret taking my spotlight.
The ball left my hand, fast and furious, and as it crossed the plate, the batter swung. But what really caught my eye wasn't the hit. It was Sam-still out in the outfield, standing there, ready.
"Get ready, St. Onge," I muttered under my breath, barely able to keep the smile off my face. "This is where you mess up."
The ball soared toward her.
Sam shouted again. "I got it!"
She moved clumsily, her feet slipping, but she caught it. She caught the damn ball. She actually did it. She ended the game, the Riverbank Hawks were going to the championship, and Sam-Sam was the hero.
I stood there, rooted to the spot, my heart pounding in my chest.
As Sam jogged back to the dugout, her face flushed with excitement, I just stared.
She had ruined everything.
And that made my blood boil.
But at the same time, it did something else too-something I wasn't ready to admit.
I was obsessed with her.
