Sister to Jonas

Karma

Brexley's POV

"Come on, Joe, that's all you've got?" I tease him after he puts a ball low and outside, walking my first batter.

"Warm up hitter. No big deal, I'll strike the next three out," he rebuttals, and I grin. You've got to love a little healthy sibling banter.

He puts the next pitch on the outside corner, which I narrowly foul off down the right field line. If it had been two inches straighter, I would've tied up the game.

"You got lucky there," I tell him, whistling through my teeth.

"But it didn't go out, did it?" he says, giving me a cheeky smile. I stick my tongue out at him but say nothing, because though it was close, he's right; it doesn't matter. I hate it when he's right.

The next pitch is a ball, high and inside, and then I hit a grounder between the shortstop and third baseman. There's the base hit I was looking for. With the next hitter, I put one into the right center gap, moving the runners to second and third. Joe strikes out the next one on three straight pitches, but there's only one out and I've still got room for error.

"Oh man, that's not what you want," he says.

"Definitely not what you want," I say with a grin, getting ready for the next pitch.

The ball comes waist-high on the outside corner of the plate. Perfect, about as good as I could hope for anyway. Stepping into the pitch, I pummel it to center field. Though it's only a single, both runners who were on the bases already score and just like that I've taken a 2-1 lead.

"Shit," Joe groans, and I laugh.

Unfortunately, I don't score any more runs this inning, but the damage has been done. I'm in Joe's head, which normally causes him to play like trash since he starts trying too hard.

"Dang it!" he yells after making his guy swing at a pitch in the dirt.

"What are you swinging at?" I taunt him, and he rolls his eyes before refocusing.

I throw him a ball straight down the heart of the plate, in an effort to help him out a little bit. He takes advantage of it; it's a rocket off the left field wall that turns into a double when my left fielder makes an error picking it up.

"Scoring position, let's go!" he says triumphantly.

I walk the next batter on a few questionable calls by the video game umpire, and then accidentally hang the ball too far over the middle of the plate for the one after that, which Joe sends over the right field wall for a three run home run.

"Karma's a bitch!" he yells, playing his stupid home run song again as I stick my tongue out.

"Karma? I didn't even do anything to you!" I call back, but he's too busy partying and no longer listening to me. Dude never listens to me.

Finally, he sits back down and fixes me with a cheeky grin. Back to feeling full of himself I guess.

"There's some bad pitches being thrown by my competition, or lack thereof," he says sassily.

"You weren't such a big talker a few minutes ago when I was beating you," I tell him, and he laughs.

"Someone's feeling saltyyyy," he says, and I roll my eyes at him, firing three strikes down the middle of the plate as he's not paying attention, and proceeding to strike him out.

He doesn't score any more, and now my team is up to bat again. But I'm done being nice; if Joe wants to win, he's going to have to work for it. And one thing you should know about me, and one that Joe knows very well, is that once I've got my mind set on something, I'm not going to give it up. This game is mine to take.