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Emily wasn’t shocked when DeAnna didn’t show up to practice that day. When she got home, she called DeAnna’s mom, who didn’t answer the phone. She tried again every half hour until someone picked up.
“What?” a woman snapped.
“Hi, this is Emily Morse, DeAnna’s teacher and softball coach. Is this Melinda?”
A grunt.
“I am calling because DeAnna missed practice today. Is she available to speak with me?”
“She’s quittin’ softball.”
“Oh.” Emily tried to think fast. “Well, I wish that wasn’t the case. Can I ask why?”
“I told her to. We can’t afford it.”
Emily knew this already. She was the one who had bought the child cleats and a glove. She felt self-righteousness rising up in her chest and tried to kick it out. “Well, I think that everything’s been paid for by this p—”
“You goin’ clee-ah to Buckfield tomorra?”
“We are.”
“So you’re gonna stop for lunch. Every kid’s gonna get McDonald’s or somethin’. We can’t be eatin’ out meals every softball game. I told her she had to quit and that’s final.”
“Mrs. Anderson—”
“Name’s not Anderson.”
“Sorry, Melinda, I wouldn’t let DeAnna go without. If she wants to stay on the team, I’ll make sure she gets a cheeseburger when we stop. If she’s interested, please tell her to be in the ferry line by 6:30.” Emily hung up, feeling shaken and a little sick to her stomach. She wasn’t sure she’d handled that well, but the woman’s rudeness had taken her by surprise.
As Emily fed the cats and then made herself a sandwich, she thought about what DeAnna’s mom had said. Of course that would be a hardship, having to give a kid money for every away game. She wondered why she’d never realized that before.
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DeAnna wasn’t at the ferry terminal at 6:30, but she showed up fifteen minutes later. Emily gave her a big smile, but DeAnna didn’t return it. She looked as though she’d rather be anywhere else.
The rest of the girls were very excited. She was surprised at how chatty they could be that early in the morning. The baseball team was far less enthusiastic, as were the few parents who were making the trip.
It was a long bus ride to Buckfield, and Emily wished she was allowed to ride with one of the parents. I’m a volunteer. Maybe I can. On several occasions Emily thought she might have to ask the bus driver to pull over so she could be sick. It was the thought of how embarrassing that would be that kept her from throwing up. But, as they neared their destination via the curviest roads in all of America, and the boys all started changing into their cleats, the smell of it pushed her over the edge. She couldn’t take it. She stood to lower her window, but it was stuck. Because the bus was at least a hundred years old. She leaned forward and began to wrestle with the window in front of her. MacKenzie looked up at her. “Car sick?” Emily nodded. “Want some help?” Emily nodded again. MacKenzie stood and deftly lowered the window, as if it wasn’t a difficult thing to do, and Emily stuck her face out the window. The cold air was bracing and after a single breath of it, she felt better.
“Thank you,” she said to MacKenzie.
“You’re welcome. Not used to bus rides?”
“Not used to six-hour bus rides.”
MacKenzie laughed. “Well, you will be soon.”
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The gross mismatch in skill was evident even during warmups. Buckfield was just wrapping up their batting practice when Piercehaven arrived, and Emily was dismayed to see the girls thumping the ball all over the field.
“I can’t believe it,” Juniper said. “I’m actually nervous.”
Emily smiled at her. “You, my dear, are going to be wonderful. I’ve got lots of worries right now, but you’re not one of them.”
Emily took her girls through a warmup and then, before she was ready, it was time to shake hands with the umps. At that moment, for the first time, she realized she needed team captains. And she had no idea which girls that should be. Without giving it any thought, she yelled, “MacKenzie and Ava! Come here!” The girls, each of them looking shocked to be called, ran toward home plate and began shaking the Buckfield girls’ hands.
Then it was time. MacKenzie was up to bat. Though Emily had worked exhaustively on bunting with her because she thought maybe that was the only way she’d get anyone on base, ever, she wanted to let her at least try to hit the ball her first time up.
But it wasn’t meant to be. The Buckfield girl was fast. And accurate. MacKenzie struck out in three pitches. Without swinging.
“That’s OK, MacKenzie, good try,” Emily called out, clapping. “Here we go, Hailey, let’s get some swings in.”
MacKenzie returned to the bench and then ran over near Emily. “Sorry, Coach. She was just so fast!”
Emily nodded. “That’s OK. Is she as fast as Juniper?”
MacKenzie nodded. “I think so. Maybe even faster. Can I try to bunt next time?”
Emily laughed. “You sure can.”
Hailey struck out in three pitches.
Then so did Ava.
And it was the Panthers’ turn to play defense.
The Buckfield coach had no such qualms about having his lead-off batter bunt. She laid down a perfect ball right up the third base line. By the time Ava got to it, the girl had already made it to first. Ava threw it anyway. Right out over Jasmine’s head. The bunter advanced to second.
“Ava!” Emily called. “Use your head. Don’t throw it unless there’s a chance of getting her out, OK?”
Ava nodded eagerly. The next time it was hit to her, she had plenty of time to throw it, but didn’t. She just threw it to Juniper, who started hollering at her.
“Juniper!” Emily cried. “I’ll do the coaching, thank you!” Then, “Ava! You could’ve gotten her out! Why didn’t you throw it?”
“You said not to!”
“No, I didn’t! I said use your head! If there’s a chance of making the play, throw the ball. If there isn’t a chance of making the play, hold onto it. Does that make sense?”
Ava nodded yes, but her eyes said, “No, Coach, I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
When the bases were loaded—each runner there by error—and Juniper’s face had turned the color of pomegranate, Emily said, “It’s OK, Juniper! All you can do is your best.”
“I know that,” Juniper snapped from the mound. Her tone was so disrespectful that Emily’s first thought was I am going to bench her! But her second thought was Then what? She called a timeout and ran out to the mound. Juniper gave her a dirty look. “What?”
“Look at me.”
Juniper looked.
“It would be so embarrassing to take you out of this game right now. It would embarrass you, and me, and the whole team, but I will absolutely do it if you ever use that tone of voice with me again. Do you hear me?”
Juniper looked sober.
“I will do it. Don’t test me.”
“OK.” Apparently she understood because she remained respectful for the rest of the game. Even as her teammates made error on top of error. Even when she made a perfect play and threw the perfect pass to first base and then watched the ball bounce out of Jasmine’s glove. Even when Hailey fielded the ball and threw it to second, when there was no runner on first. Even when MacKenzie made a perfect throw down to second and no one was there to catch it. Even as the score climbed and climbed, she remained stoic.
In the top of the fourth inning, it was finally MacKenzie’s turn to bat again. Emily gave her the bunt sign. And even though Emily had incredible faith in this child, she was still amazed when MacKenzie dropped the ball right in front of her and then took off. The Buckfield catcher was no slouch and quickly fielded and fired it, but MacKenzie had wheels, and she beat out the throw. The Piercehaven bench and all six fans went crazy. We have a base runner.
She stayed there, on first, as her teammates struck out. But still. We had a base runner.
In the fifth inning, Hannah hit the ball to centerfield and the Panthers erupted in cheers again, but the Buckfield centerfielder caught it with minimum effort and the Panthers deflated like a popped balloon.
By the fifth inning, Emily knew why they called it the mercy rule. The score was 26 to nothing, and it was time to go home.
She went through the line high fiving all the Buckfield players and shook the Buckfield coach’s hand. He grabbed it and held it till she looked at him. “Nice job, Coach. You guys look a lot better than I expected. Good luck this season.” His earnestness left her speechless. She just nodded and smiled foolishly. Walking back to the bus, she realized he was probably just talking about Juniper and MacKenzie, who had been pretty amazing, but then she decided it didn’t matter what he’d meant. Another coach, a real coach, had treated her like an equal—she’d take it.
They got on the bus before the boys’ team, affording Emily a quick opportunity. “Guys, listen up. You did a great job. I know it doesn’t feel like it, but you did. The Buckfield coach even just praised you. I’m very proud of you. We got killed, and that’s OK. Not every team we play will be Buckfield. These guys were good. So, relax and try to enjoy the ride home, OK?”
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When they stopped at Burger King, the team filed off the bus. DeAnna stopped beside Emily’s seat and held her hand out. Emily didn’t understand. “What?” she said, not unkindly.
“My mom said you were going to give me money.”
“Oh.” Emily was disgusted and defensive, but she said, “I’ll be right behind you in line. You just order first, and then I’ll take care of it.” DeAnna looked disappointed and Emily wondered if she’d actually wanted the cash more than she wanted food.
But then her order made Emily think she did indeed want food. She ordered a large double Whopper meal, a milkshake, and two apple pies. And Emily, thinking next time she’d lay down some pre-order parameters, handed the woman her debit card.
As Emily stood waiting to get back on the bus, holding her salad and bottled water in hand (she’d wanted a few apple pies herself, but figured she should set a good example), Juniper whispered to her, “I don’t know why you even let her on the team, let alone buy her supper.”
Emily didn’t need to ask whom she meant. “Jesus loved that child enough to be crucified for her,” she whispered back. “The least I can do is buy her a Whopper.”
