That’s how he called it.
Our coach came out to argue the call. We were booing. The whole crowd was—well, except the Kenwood crowd. I watched Amanda. Tim had taught us not to yell, certainly not to cry, but even though she had on a catcher’s mask, I could tell she was having what her dad would call “a moment.” A dropped ball was bad enough. A run scored on it was tragic.
Kendra struck the batter out on the next pitch, but the damage was done. The score was three to four, and it was Amanda’s fault. I saw Kendra go up to Amanda in the dugout and put her arm around her.
When it was time for Amanda to bat, there was one out and the bases were loaded. The perfect opportunity for Amanda, who led the league in RBIs, to hit a sacrifice fly and tie up the game. Hopefully, another demonstration of Amanda’s RBI brilliance would make up for the dropped ball.
The pitch, and then I saw Amanda hit it perfectly, low and into left field, just out of reach, just like she had about a thousand other times.
And then suddenly the ball lifted up. Like, it made a dramatic right angle up and sailed over the right fielder’s head and toward the fence.
The runner on third came home.
The third base coach told the next runner to come in.
She did too.
The ball cleared the fence, somehow.
The runner who’d been on first came home.
Then Amanda, looking completely dazed.
We were screaming her name, everyone was, even people who hadn’t known her name an hour before. I noticed a woman sitting alone, taking notes on an iPad. The scout. She was smiling.
Four runs scored. Game over. A win.
Maybe it was my imagination. Maybe no one else noticed because they were watching Amanda or watching the action on the field.
But the instant before the ball tilted up, I could have sworn I saw Kendra staring at it. And then, not taking her eyes off the ball, she gestured toward it, like she was lifting it.
It was like magic. Witchcraft.
Crazy. The witchcraft was Amanda. Her talent. Her awesomeness. Nothing more. I ran onto the field with everyone else. I found Amanda and hugged her.
“That was incredible!” I screamed. “That was so great!”
“I know! I know, right? I wasn’t even trying to do that. I was going for the sacrifice. It must have been the wind.”
It was a windless night in a windless week in a largely windless month.
But I said, “Yeah, it was the wind. Or you’re just the best hitter in the league!”
“You think so? You think the scout noticed?” She was holding my hands, shaking.
“Unless she was comatose. You got a grand slam! In front of a college scout!”
“Eek!” She screamed, and then she put her arms around me and squeezed me hard, making me wonder if she might feel the same way I did.
Then about twenty girls pulled her away from me into their vortex of girl energy, screaming her name, and I knew she was just excited. She was a star, and I was her short, pudgy best friend. I was lucky, but that was it.
12
After that game, I started noticing that when Kendra was around, stuff happened. Weird stuff. Things like Mr. Cardenas losing a stack of pop quizzes before he got a chance to grade them, or Nolan slipping on a banana peel no one had previously noticed when he was onstage for a pep rally. Things like the marching band bizarrely switching from a West Side Story medley to Suicide Silence, then back without missing a note of “I Feel Pretty.” Nothing too Stephen King, just middle school weird stuff, stuff like Sophie’s shoe getting stuck to the perfectly clean floor or Amanda hitting that grand slam after that unfair call.
More scouts were looking at Amanda now. She still played on two softball teams along with her classes, community service projects, and driving Casey around in her car. I had most of those things too. But every morning, we drove to school together, and every night, we lay in bed and texted.
Sometimes, the subject matter was about serious things.
I’m really overwhelmed lately
Yeah, I bet having to talk to college scouts and sign autographs must be a pain It was just that one girl who wanted an autograph. I think Celia put her up to it to mess with me Just ONE autograph
I’m serious Chris. What if I fail all my classes and can’t even go to college?
Are you failing?
No. It’s just hard. I’ll probably get a C in algebra 2
Maybe take math for college readiness next year instead of precalc Everyone would make fun of me
Remind them that you have a bat and you’re not afraid to use it I think the school would frown on that . . .
You’re Amanda Lasky. They can’t make fun of you. You’re a badass softball queen True . . .
Other times, it was less so.
I really want a slurpee
Now? It’s 10:30 on a school night
With a bendy straw
A purple one
Who do you think invented bendy straws?
I thought Google was your friend.
Checking