(Complete) Kenzie Lynch grew up around baseball, but her father refuses to let her get involved with any players. Christopher Jett's loves baseball, Coach Lynch and the girl he can't have. After six years, can they learn to be friends and will frie...
Shake off: A pitcher who disagrees with the catcher's call for the next pitch may shake off the sign by shaking his head "no", thereby telling the catcher to call for a different pitch. If the pitcher shakes off several signs in a row, the catcher may call time out and walk to the mound to talk to the pitcher.
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Present day....
Kenzie's best friend at work, Sandra, found her in the staffroom. She was fighting with the machine trying to get a cup of coffee. She needed about ten. Finishing dinner at midnight was not her lifestyle. She was usually in bed by ten. When she went to bed the image of a black t-shirt and perfectly fitted jeans kept her awake. Why did he have to look so hot?
"What did that machine ever do to you?" Sandra teased, as Kenzie hit it hoping to get it to function. "Really now, is this a big problem or a small problem?"
Any other day, Kenzie would laugh at the question they asked the kids who were having an issue.
"It's a big problem today!" She sounded like one of the six-year-olds in her class.
"Did you and Mr. Perfect have a fight?"
Kenzie rolled her eyes. "No, and he is far from perfect."
She couldn't tell Sandra she was aggravated because she argued with another man the night before. She most definitely couldn't tell her who that man was. Even her best friend didn't know everything about her. She knew Kenzie was a fan of baseball and her brother played. She didn't know every kid's favorite player was like another son to her father.
"He seems perfect to me, but I've been married for ten years." Sandra was nine years older than her, but the age difference didn't bother them. Her husband was a great husband and father, so Kenzie rolled her eyes to let her know she wasn't buying her complaint.
"I've told you Brandon isn't the one for me. He works for now, but there is no happily ever after in our future."
"That's a myth. You should get your brother to introduce you to one of his teammates. You would be set for life."
"Not happening as long as my father is still alive, and he's still young and healthy."
Sandra shook her head, because it wasn't the first time Kenzie had said that. The machine sputtered into action and Kenzie smiled. She had fifteen minutes until the busses started to arrive. Taking her coffee, she waved to her friend. "Later."
Her morning passed quickly, she handled one case of 'He touched me/It was an accident', before morning meeting. Her class was as tired as her, because she had to stop the mass exodus to the bathroom as soon as math started. It was the least original stall technique which always flared up the minute she said the word 'regroup'.*
At ten-forty-five she dropped her class at the art room. She had forty-five minutes to correct their math sheets, answer emails, and make some copies. She pulled out her phone and saw a text from her brother. He was asking her if she was coming to the game that evening.
She replied, Too tired. I'll watch on TV
He didn't bother to ask for the third game, because the one o'clock start meant she'd be teaching writing and telling little avoiders they couldn't go hide in the bathroom.
She had another text from a number she didn't recognize. She read I miss arguing with you. You were right.
She looked at his words for a long time. She knew she was right and almost texted him back to tell him. Instead, she tackled the math worksheets.
It was Tuesday, which meant she had to spend twenty-five minutes in the loud lunchroom. She would have a headache before lunch was over. Walking around from one raised hand to another, she opened thermoses that were closed too tightly, reminded kids to eat, and opened fruit cups which should be outlawed because they were impossible to open without spilling the sticky juice.
At every turn, there were t-shirts that were sporting the number twenty and JETT. Two of her former students, now fourth graders, called her over.
"Hey, Ms. Lynch, what do you say? Should he have stayed on first?"
She laughed because they automatically assumed she knew who 'he' was. Rather than answering she said, "Hands up if Jett should have stayed on first." Five hands went up. "And if you think he was right to run?" Two went up. "I thought he should have stayed, and he knows it."
No one believed she knew the last bit for a fact, but when her class went out to recess and it was her lunch break, she texted him, Only two of seven fourth graders think you should have run.
He replied, You talk about me?
She answered, They know I like baseball. They just assume I like you.
He continued, I know I'm your favorite player
No way!
Your boyfriend likes me
She was mad that he was bringing up Brandon. I didn't like your model
Jett texted, Time out
Kenzie replied, Game over
That was the longest private conversation they had since her junior year at Boston College. Everything changed because Christopher Jett was too damn stubborn.
*regroup is the new math equivalent to borrowing in subtraction.
