The Girl With the Killer Arm

Chapter 1

As I walk through the halls of Granada Hills High School, I hear snippets of the hushed conversations about me. 

"Daughter of rich person..." 

"Only cares about money..." 

"Nothing but a dumb blonde..." 

The last one hurt, but I pushed it away and kept walking. It wasn't exactly my fault for the whispers. 

Let me back up and explain. My name is Taylor Brown. My father is Darren Brown, partial owner of the Los Angeles Dodgers. Yes. The Dodgers. I move schools about every year or so, because it gets so bad that people just want to be friends with me because my dad is rich. Well, me and my brothers. I have 3. 2 older and one younger. Talk about overload. I'm the only girl at home, because my mom and dad got divorced and my mom moved back to Ohio where she grew up. But that's okay. I FaceTime with her every two weeks and see her every couple months. 

Back to me and my brothers. Two of my brothers are older than me, and one is younger. I'm a junior in high school. My brother Trevor is a sophomore in high school. My brother Tyler is a senior in high school, and my oldest brother, Thomas, is the age of a freshman in college, but he got drafted by the Dodgers to join their minor league system. The two things that keep me and my brothers tight is that we all have names that start with T, because my mom, who's name is Tina, thought that would be cool. And two, because Tyler is one year younger than Thomas, I'm one year younger than Tyler, and Trevor is one year younger than me. 

Anyway, back to walking down the hall. I ignored the comments, and kept walking toward my destination. The girls locker room. I always had to wait until after the boys baseball practice to go onto the field. But because Tyler and Trevor were both on the team, I got to go after their practice. They would never admit it, but they did it so that I could get to play as well. 

I did not play any sports at my school, because I was not allowed to play for the boys team. And softball? No way. I am a pitcher, who learned to pitch a ball that was 9" around instead of 11", and throw overhand rather than underhand. 

When I reached the locker room, I went in and went to my locker. I had a locker because I was a ball girl for the baseball's varsity games. I opened my locker and pulled my Dodgers jersey out of my backpack. I had an official one, one that the pros use, with my name and number on it. "Brown" and the number 13. I put on my Sports Bra and a blue undershirt. I put my jersey on and buttoned it up. I took off my shoes and shorts, and then put on my white pants, blue socks, and my blue and white cleats. I pulled my hair up into a ponytail, then grabbed my Dodger hat. I was going out in full Dodgers gear today. Why? 

Spring training had just finished, and I wanted to get in the mood for the season. I grabbed my glove out of the bottom of my locker and put it under my arm. I heaved my backpack into the locker, then closed it and locked it. I walked to the door of the locker room and opened it. I walked to the field, and waited the last few minutes until the practice ended. When it did, I walked onto the field. Tyler saw me, and he walked to the plate. I put my glove on and hit the palm a few times. Tyler threw me a ball, and I caught it before going to the mound. I positioned myself, then waited for my sign. Tyler flashed me a one. Fastball. I went into my stretch. I zeroed in on the center of Tyler's glove. I started my wind-up. Aim. Fire. 

"Thwack!" The ball sailed across the plate and to the center of his glove. 

"Nice!" He called out, then threw it back. I did this a few more times, warming up. Then, when I'd gone at it for a few minutes, we took a break and waited for Trevor to be ready. While I waited, I saw on the bench in the dugout. I was thinking, when someone's voice caught me-mid thought. 

Correction. Not just someone. The star pitcher of our team to be exact. Adam Blaine. I blushed a little, then regained control. 

"I'm sorry. What did you say?" I asked. 

"I said, Your pitching was looking good." He said, extra loud. 

I gave him a hard stare, then said, "Adam, I'm not deaf. I just wasn't paying attention." 

"Well, I still think you are a good pitcher. You have good speed, too." 

"Um, thanks." I say, then here Trevor yelling at me.

"Taylor, get your ass out here, before I leave!" 

I turn around and walk out of the dugout. "You know Dad doesn't want you cursing. " I yell to him. 

"Who cares? He's not here now. And besides, you and Tyler curse all of the time. I'm only a year younger than you." Trevor argues. 

"Keep the way you're acting up, and people will think you're  much younger than you are." I walk to the mound and pick up the ball from where I dropped it. I see the cart of balls that someone put there for me. I'm guessing Tyler. He's just that kind of person. 

I turn and see him standing in between center field and second base. Trevor is batting, I'm pitching, and Tyler is going to catch fly balls. I go into my windup, then throw a pitch. A high ball to center field. Tyler catches it easily, and throws it back to me. I take a deep breath, and go into another windup. I do this time after time, throwing pitch after pitch, being in my element. It starts to get a bit darker outside, and when I look at the big scoreboard in left field, I realize it is almost 6'o'clock. 

"Guys! We gotta go now." I yell out to my brothers. 

"Why?" Tyler asks. "We have nothing tonight." 

"Wrong!" I yell back. "We have that gala banquet to kick off the season tonight. Dad said he wanted us there by 7:30. That means we have an hour and a half to go home, get cleaned up, and drive to the stadium." 

Trevor marches into the dugout and puts his bat and helmet in his ball bag. Tyler comes in, and grabs his bag as well. We walk together to the door to the lockers. 

"We will meet out here in 5 minutes. Either of you not out here, I leave without you." Tyler is our designated driver. I can drive, but he insists on driving for us. To school and back every day. He loves his silver Lexus. But I love my Dodger blue Mercedes even more. Yep. My dad got me a Mercedes for my 17th birthday, right after I aced my driver's test. 

Anyways, I went into the locker room, grabbed my backpack out of my locker, took off my cleats and put my other shoes back on, then walked out of the locker room. I see Trevor and I stand with him. I check my phone, and it says that I am on time. But Tyler, of course, is late. No surprise there. Finally, he runs out, yelling, "Sorry I'm late!!" 

He walks toward the parking lot, and Trevor and I follow. He gets to his car, unlocks it, and we all get in. He starts the car, and we pull out of the parking lot.