On the Run: The Texas Files ✔

Chapter 37: The Confrontation

Sweat is dripping down my face as the sun begins to set.

I'm staring down home plate from the pitcher's mound. I'm rolling the ball between my fingers of my right hand. The ridges sweep across my fingertips, sending waves of nervousness through my body.

I dig my right heel into the dirt and lift my left leg as I wind up to throw.

"Time out!" Tyler calls from behind Ben.

I sigh as I put my foot back down from the wind-up. "What the hell, Owens?" I call to home plate.

"Your wind up is wrong!" he says as he sprints to the mound.

I see Ben running after him. "That wind up was flawless! What the hell are you talking about, Owens?" Ben asks when he catches up.

Tyler shakes his head. "It won't be fast enough. Sure, you've improved a little since we training you, but it won't reach 85 mph. I'm guessing 73, at most."

I sigh. "Do you have any pointers, then?"

Ben crosses his arms. "Don't listen to him. You're doing great. He may be our captain, but he doesn't pitch."

Tyler throws his hands up. "I don't know why I bother!"

Coach has already gone home. Most of the players left as well. It's just Tyler, Ben, and me. We're working on my fastball.

It's been a few weeks since the team began officially practicing. Our first game is next week and everyone is going crazy.

It also means that our fundraiser is going to be starting soon since we play the Eagles in mid-May.

"Ty," Ben looks over at him. "You have to relax. She's going to do fine."

Tyler is walking around the mound in circles. "We're all sloppy! Do you not see that?! We play our first game in exactly one week, and she can't even throw a fastball!"

I scowl in his direction. Then I take a breath.

I'm nervous too. I'm terrified, actually. I'm trying not to let anything get to me. I'm working as hard as I can. I know Tyler isn't trying to be mean; he's just as nervous, if not more so than I am.

I look at his eyes when I can. They're light purple: sweet.

He just really does care.

"Ty," I say. "Unless Ben gets tired, just keep him in. Don't let me pitch if you're not comfortable with my performance."

Tyler stops pacing. Ben looks up at me.

"Absolutely not," Tyler says. "You're pitching at least one inning. You've said it yourself. Your curveball is way better than Ben's."

Ben nods in agreement. "If Coach doesn't want to put you in, I can always 'tweak my wrist.'" he uses air quotes.

I chuckle. "I don't think you'll have to go that far."

Tyler looks at his phone. "We should go home. It's late, and I have an Advanced Chem test to study for."

I shake out my hand. "No complaints from me."

We walk back to the dugout to grab our duffels and backpacks.

Both of the guys offer me a ride back to the apartment, but I turn them both down. I need a few minutes to myself. I haven't really been alone all day, except when I changed for practice in the girl's locker room.

My muscles aren't as sore. I'm getting used to the practices. I have, however, stopped working out on Saturdays. I just do some self-defense with Noah after some stretching because with practice five days a week for two hours, plus the extra pitching with Ben and Tyler, I just can't handle more exercise.