The Perfect Game

“Sorry about my brother. He isn’t really a jerk.” Dean smiled as he defended his brother, his head cocked to one side with sincerity.

I coughed to clear my throat and picked up a napkin. “He just plays one on TV?”

“Something like that. Don’t take him too seriously. He’s just having fun with you.”

I half smiled. “But I’m not having fun.”

“But you are. And he knows it,” Dean added, his expression a mixture of confidence and knowing.

I didn’t respond to Dean’s accusation, not wanting to prove him right…or wrong. I took a healthy bite of my sandwich when Jack walked back over to our table. Caught with a mouth full of food again, I couldn’t speak, so I simply narrowed my eyes and glared at him.

He shoved a napkin into my hand and walked away without saying a word. I started to unfold it before reading #23 on the field, #1 in your heart, followed by some numbers written in black ink. I quickly crumpled it up and threw it in my bag.

“What was that?” Melissa interrupted the thoughts swirling around in my head.

I swallowed. “His phone number, I think. I didn’t really look at it.”

“He gave you his number?” Dean’s face appeared puzzled.

“I think. Maybe I’m wrong. I’ll look at it later.” I was suddenly embarrassed at the assumption that Jack had given me his number, when maybe it wasn’t Jack’s number at all.

Melissa turned toward Dean. “What’s with the face?”

“He doesn’t give out his phone number. There’s no point with him.” Dean’s gaze darted from my face to Jack’s, turning his head to scrutinize his brother, now sitting several tables away.

“He has a cell phone, right?” Melissa asked, her head bobbing.

“Yeah…?” Dean responded, dragging out the word like a question.

“I’m just saying, caller ID!” She rolled her eyes.

“His number is private. It doesn’t show up.”

“Really? Who does that?” Melissa’s face crinkled.

“Someone who had to change his phone number fifteen times in high school because it never stopped ringing, or pinging with text messages.”

“Fifteen times?” I asked, far louder than I intended. I ducked my head as several people sitting nearby stared at me with curiosity.

“It might have been more, but it was insane. The girls would post his number online and then his voice mail would fill up within a day. And then they’d all start calling my phone looking for him when he didn’t answer.”

“Holy shit, that’s bananas!” Melissa laughed at the insanity.

“That’s why it’s weird that he’d give you his number. He doesn’t give anyone his number.” Dean shook his head.

“Well, like I said, I could be wrong,” I quickly recanted.

Melissa gestured toward my bag. “Then get it out and read it now.”

Heat spread throughout my cheeks and down my neck to my chest. “No. Not in the freaking student union while he’s right over there, thanks. Later.”

I rose from the table, grabbed my bag and my trash, and walked nonchalantly past Jack and his pack of groupies. I heard the sound of female voices whining when Jack pulled himself away to jog over and catch up with me.

“I expect you to call me, Kitten.”

“I’m sure you expect a lot of things,” I said rudely, refusing to look at him as his stride slowed and he let me walk away.

“Come to my game tonight!” he shouted when I opened the glass doors.

I turned toward him before walking out. “I don’t think so.”

“Don’t you want to see me pitch?” He raised an eyebrow, his voice cocky.

I tilted my head, holding the door open with one arm. “I saw you pitching earlier. In slow motion, remember? I think I got the gist.”

The glass door closed behind me with a loud bang and I walked to my next class, wondering how long I’d be able to resist him.

*****

I opened the door to our two-bedroom apartment, the smell of this morning’s bacon still lingering in the air. Mail and schoolwork were strewn across the top of our table, and I added my backpack to the mess.

Melissa sat watching TV on our L-shaped couch while eating a bowl full of cottage cheese and green grapes. I smiled at her odd food combination and headed straight into the kitchen, grabbing a bottle of water from the fridge and some chips from the cupboard.

I took a sip of the water, letting the cool moisture replenish my dehydrated body.

“So, we’re going to the baseball game tonight,” she informed me, and the water in my mouth sprayed out all over the carpet.

“Shit.” I laughed and grabbed a towel before bending down to soak up the mess. “You might be, but I’m staying here.”

“Cassie, the whole school goes to the baseball games. It’s like the state of Texas and high school football.” Her head tilted as I looked up from my carpet cleaning, my eyes clearly confused. “Friday Night Lights, hello? Ugh, don’t you watch any TV?”

I chuckled at her frustration with me as she continued. “Anyway, everyone goes. Especially when Jack’s pitching. It’s sort of a spectacle, really.”

“How so?” I asked, tossing the wet towel into the sink before leaning my shoulder against the wall.

She glanced up toward the ceiling and pursed her lips together. Then she looked back at me, draping her body over the side of the couch. “Well, a ton of scouts are there for starters. And reporters from all the local newspapers and TV stations. You just have to see it. Even if you only go to one game, Cassie, it has to be one when Jack’s pitching. Plus, you can take some really cool pictures for that Tuck magazine, or whatever it’s called.”

My eyebrows lifted at the thought of photographing the school’s new stadium and fans. “It’s called Trunk,” I corrected, referring to the university’s student-run magazine. “And someone is already assigned to the baseball team. But I do need to work on my night photography.” I pulled away from the wall and glanced at my camera bag, mulling the idea over.

“And you can work on your action shots too,” she added with a sly smirk.

I rolled my eyes. “Three hours ago you hated this guy, and now you’re like his biggest fan. What gives?”

“Excuse me!” Her voice was animated as she held up one finger. “Jack Carter the guy sucks and should be avoided at all costs. Jack Carter the baseball player is totally amazeballs and should be observed whenever possible. You see the difference?”

I laughed at her insane logic. “They’re both the same guy. Just want to put that out there before I agree to go.”

Her eyes lit up as a grin spread across her face. “You’ll see. So you’ll go with me then?”

I released a breath and closed my eyes. “Yes. I’ll go with you,” I promised, doing my best to sound disappointed.

Her squeals of delight filled the air and I couldn’t shake the feeling of anticipation welling within me. I didn’t want to be excited to see Jack in his element…but I was. But I’d be damned if I was going to admit it.

THREE

Our apartment was only a few blocks from campus, so we walked everywhere we could. In the grand scheme of things, it was much easier than dealing with the parking situation. There were too many cars and never enough spaces. Not to mention the fact that the price of a semester parking pass cost more than my first camera. This is partly why my parents refused to let me bring my car to school. So I sit at school, car-less. And my car sits at home, driver-less.

The lights of the stadium caught my eye before anything else did. The tall fixtures beamed in every direction, giving the school the appearance that it was lit up from the inside out. I stopped quickly and dropped to my knees, unwinding the camera’s thick black strap from around my wrist. I removed the lens cap and tucked it into the back pocket of my jeans. Melissa, used to my photographing ways, had already noticed my absence and silently waited for me.

I brought the viewfinder to my right eye and closed the left, as strands of my hair dangled in my line of vision. I let out an aggravated breath before gently placing my camera on the ground between my feet and twirling my long blonde mane into a knot at the back of my head. With my hair firmly out of my eyes, I angled the lens to show only the top of the baseball stadium, with the lights and the illuminated sky as the focal point. I manually adjusted the focus and the shutter speed before pressing the shutter release button and hearing the familiar click sound I’d grown to love. Satisfied with the preview on the screen, I stood up and walked over to Melissa.

“Good shot?”

I shrugged my shoulders. “We’ll see,” I said, reaching in my back pocket to fish out the lens cap.

I was still learning how to use my new digital camera. I’d saved for two full years to buy it, hoarding every bit of Christmas and birthday money from relatives and doing small photography jobs for local businesses and high school seniors. Oftentimes I thought the picture on the camera’s small preview screen looked gorgeous, only to find out it was blurry or nowhere near as pretty once it was full-sized on my computer monitor. But I was learning.

We walked side by side toward the stadium’s entrance. Melissa wasn’t joking when she said it was a spectacle. The line to get in exceeded the length of the field and spilled out into the parking lot. We took our place at the end and I removed my lens cap once again, mesmerized by the sea of orange and dark blue that engulfed us. Everyone was decked out in our school colors, some wearing mock baseball jerseys with players’ names on the back. I laughed to myself at the sheer number of “Carter, 23” shirts I saw and couldn’t resist photographing a few.

“Cassie, come on! You can do that once we sit!” Melissa urged, scanning the seat numbers on our tickets.

I followed obediently behind her. “Don’t most of the students sit in the bleachers?” I pointed toward left field.

“Depends on what you’re trying to see.” Melissa batted her long black eyelashes.

“Oh no. What have you done?” My legs began to tremble as I watched Melissa lead me all the way down the stairs to the front row, closest to the field.

She turned around, grinning from ear to ear. “Here we are,” she announced before plopping down and looking left into the team’s dugout.

I turned my head as well and realized we were practically in the freaking dugout. I leaned toward Melissa, almost knocking some poor guy’s drink in his lap. “Sorry,” I said quickly before squatting next to her. “I am not sitting here!”

“Yes, you are. These are our seats and the game’s sold out.” She smiled innocently and patted the empty seat next to her.

I scowled. “At least switch seats with me then. I don’t want to be the one closest to their dugout.”

“Fine,” she said before hopping up and flipping her hair.

I begrudgingly sat and slinked down into my seat, trying to conceal myself behind Melissa’s tiny frame. “I didn’t want Jack to know I was here. Now there’s no way he won’t see me.”