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“What is wrong with you guys?” Juniper shouted at her teammates, who were sitting on the grass behind the dugout. “I realize you guys know nothing about softball, but I do! So listen to me! Look at that team! Just look at them!” She pointed dramatically at the empty field. The Valley team was also off the field, having their own, probably more amicable, team meeting. “They are not better than you! That pitcher is awful!”
“Juniper, lower your voice please,” Emily said.
“I’m sorry, but she sucks!” Juniper said, lowering her voice one-eighth of a decibel. “You should all be hitting her, for crying out loud. She’s floating ’em right down the middle. Hannah hit it over the fence!” she said, as if this was proof that the pitcher was terrible.
“Hey!” Hannah cried in defense.
“OK, Juniper, that’s enough,” Emily said. “We don’t need to be bad-mouthing their pitcher.” Emily looked at her team. “I think the point she’s trying to make is, some of you aren’t hitting her because you think you can’t hit her. Ava and Juniper hit off her and had some bad luck in that the ball went right to defenders, but I doubt their bad luck will hold for a second game. That means they’re going to get on base, and they’re going to need you all to get them home. You can hit off her. I’ve seen you hit off the batting machine, and that was faster than she is. She’s probably not going to walk you, so you’ve got to hit the ball.” She looked at them. “I don’t know how else to put it.”
“Seriously, guys,” Juniper added. “I’m not trying to be witchy but—”
“Witchy,” DeAnna said, “yeah that’s not exactly the word I’d use.”
“Shut up, stain. I’m not talkin’ to you.”
“Girls!” Emily tried, but Juniper kept on going.
“There’s no reason we should be losing to that team. They can’t hit me. And only a few of them can bunt off me. If we’d throw them out, they’d stop that too.”
MacKenzie gave her a dirty look.
“OK, girls, I think we’ve done enough bonding. Let’s get up and get back out there,” Emily said. “Get a drink of water and then let’s try to have some fun.”
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A very different Piercehaven team stepped onto the field for the second game. Emily didn’t understand the transformation. Were they angry? Had Juniper stoked their competitive fires? Or were they finally just relaxing into their new sport? Emily decided she didn’t care. Whatever it was, it was working.
MacKenzie bunted and got on. So did Juniper. Ava singled. So did Hannah. They were on the board.
DeAnna was up next. She popped up, Juniper tagged up, took off with perfect timing and slid into home just under the tag.
Sara was up next and got her first hit of the season, sending Ava across the plate. The girls were screaming their heads off. It appeared to Emily that they were having great fun.
The girls took the field for defense with a four-run lead. And they seemed intent on not losing it. Valley’s lead-off batter sent the ball to Hailey at shortstop, who threw her out at first as if she’d been playing softball all her life. The second batter hit to Sara, who caught it effortlessly. Juniper took care of the third batter. Easy-peasy. Back to the bats.
But the Valley fielders also stepped up their game. They didn’t make a single error for the rest of the game. They even threw MacKenzie out the next time she bunted. Piercehaven got several more hits, but those hits did not turn into runs.
Then, in the bottom of the sixth, with the score still 4 to zip, Valley decided to rally. A few more bunts, an error at first, and a double to right field garnered them three runs—with the tying run standing on second.
Juniper didn’t flag, though. Despite the many pitches she’d thrown that day, she was still firing fast and hard. She struck out the next two batters, leaving Piercehaven in a nail-biting predicament. “The play’s at first!” Emily shouted, hoping she didn’t sound as desperate as she felt. But there was no play to be made because the batter drove it up the third base line, sending in their fourth run.
Juniper got the third out herself with three quick strikes and walked stoically off the field. Sydney and Chloe came off giggling and chatting, leading Emily to believe they had no idea what the score was. Maybe that was for the best.
“Juniper, Ava, Hannah,” Thomas called out the lineup.
Juniper stepped into the box, looking confident. She drove the first pitch up the middle. “Thattagirl!” Emily called out.
Ava hit the ball right to first base, getting herself out, but advancing the go-ahead run to second base.
Hannah popped up to the shortstop, who caught it, and then looked menacingly at Juniper, who remained camped out at second.
Two outs and DeAnna trudged to the plate. Juniper gave Emily a look that said, “And here’s why you shouldn’t have let her on the team.”
Emily called a timeout and trotted down to DeAnna. She put her arm around DeAnna’s shoulder, and DeAnna flinched. Emily removed her arm. “You can do this, DeAnna. She’s going to throw strikes, so you’re going to have to swing. But just be confident. You can hit the ball.”
DeAnna stared at her blankly. “Why are you talking to me?”
Emily recoiled, considered taking her out, then thought maybe that’s what DeAnna wanted. “Because I don’t want you to be nervous.”
“I don’t care enough to be nervous,” she said and turned back to the plate.
At a complete loss for how to respond, Emily returned to her spot beside third. Juniper was still giving her the same look.
The Valley pitcher fired the ball; DeAnna swung and missed, but there was something different in her swing. It looked—angry. Or at least invested. A glimmer of hope danced across Emily’s chest. Just a small one. The Valley pitcher snapped the ball again; DeAnna swung the bat—and connected, shooting a grounder past the second baseman and into right field. Juniper took off, and much to Emily’s surprise, so did DeAnna. She beat out the throw from right field to arrive safely at first base, where Kylie Greem, Emily’s seventh grade first base coach, greeted her with a hug, which, again to Emily’s surprise, DeAnna allowed. I am a stranger in a strange land, Emily thought.
Sara struck out, leaving DeAnna on first, but it didn’t matter. Ahead one run, Juniper ended the game from the mound—one-two-three, and then the Panthers proceeded to celebrate.
MacKenzie took off her mask and looked at Emily. “It’s like we finally beat a real team.”
“What?”
“You know, the Christian schools, sometimes it seems like they don’t count.”
“Because they’re Christians?”
MacKenzie giggled. “Of course not. But because they’re so small.”
“Piercehaven’s pretty small too, there, champ. And we are certainly a real team.”
