Head above the water

11

(My friends every time I leave something on a cliffhanger)

"Heads up!" A voice yelled as the softball came rocketing towards my face.

It was a hot day, and I was sweating in places I didn't know were capable of producing sweat. The sun beat down on me as I stood on third base with my glove outstretched, waiting to clasp the worn leather around the solid neon ball. I wasn't good at sports, and I wasn't on any of the teams. The one thing that I could do moderately well was play softball, which was why I was infield instead of stuck in the outfield where I would have zero playing time.

The ball thumped softly into my glove, and I made a quick turn to tag the runner. Two outs in a single play, and my team was ecstatic. I was on the team made almost solely of nerdy no sports playing people. I didn't really mind that, though, because that meant anything I did was a contribution. We quickly got our third out, and then we were up to bat.

A strong runner and moderately good hitter, I was up to bat first. The first pitch snapped out of the girls hand and came barreling straight at my helmet covered head. I barely managed to avoid it, ducking at the last second. The second ball came rocketing too fast and wild for me to avoid, and it slammed into my knee before I could make any movement.

I dropped to the ground in pain, clutching my throbbing knee. I wanted to stop playing right then, but I could see the look on my teammates faces. I wasn't close to any of them, but they all looked so worried and upset that I couldn't bear to disappoint them. Holding back my tears, I stood up and limped to first base.

When the coach asked if I was okay to run I nodded a stiff yes, but I knew I shouldn't have. The other team was made of jocks. We were a mixed class, and the game was coed. Most of their infield was made up of very large guys that could easily crush me on accident, with legs twice as long as mine. And, now that I was obviously injured I knew they would find a way to exploit that.

I was anxious to have to run, but, in a bizarre twist of luck, the pitcher walked the next two batters from my team. I made it to third base with relative ease, and I was ready for an easy score when the other team suddenly changed pitchers. I sighed when I saw the girl walking to the mound. My knee was still throbbing, and I was pretty sure it had swollen quite a bit. However, I knew the way this girl pitched. I was going to have to run.

She pitched the ball; The boy at bat swung. The catcher missed, and I ran like my life depended on it. The boy at the plate threw off his mask and was scrambling to pick up the ball as I struggled to keep myself going the short sprint to safety. I was almost at the plate when he finally got the ball into his glove. In an attempt to keep me from touching home he stepped in front of the base threw all of his body weight behind his glove, knocking both of us off of our feet to land in a twisted pile of catchers gear and human limbs.

I groaned under the weight of him. He had to have been 200 pounds, and the gear was not light either. I could feel my stomach beginning to bruise, and most of his weight had landed on the knee that was already swollen. In other words, it hurt like a bïtch.

He picked himself from the ground, and I was immediately swarmed by students who weren't so much concerned as they were nosy, and one panicking teacher. It didn't take me long to realize I wasn't able to walk on my knee without screaming out in pain, and my teacher quickly assigned one of the bulkier guys to help me get to the nurses office.

With my arm thrown over his shoulder, and him supporting most of my weight we hobbled inside and limped all the way to the nurses office.

"What happened?" The nurse semi-shouted as we walked in.

The way she said it was more of a statement than a question, but I answered her anyway.

"I got banged up pretty bad in softball," I explained.