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On Wednesday morning, Hailey, MacKenzie, and Juniper walked into school together a few minutes late. They were all wearing sweatpants and messy ponytails.
Well, isn’t that suspicious? Emily played dumb at practice that day (which Juniper did attend and Jasmine did not) and then she drove James’s truck—to remain incognito—back by the field an hour later. They were still out there, and the pitch Hailey threw as Emily drove by looked pretty solid.
On Thursday, during creative writing class, Hailey winced while getting out of her chair.
“Sore?” Emily asked nonchalantly.
“I’m OK,” Hailey said. “My arm’s a little sore, but it’s no biggie.”
Emily waited for her to look up at her. When she did, Emily said, seriously, “Don’t hurt yourself over softball. You only get one body. Softball isn’t worth abusing it.”
Hailey looked surprised. “OK, Miss M. I won’t.”
But they were there again on Thursday night and came to school in sweats again on Friday.
At Friday’s practice, Hailey came clean—partially. “Miss M? I was wondering if I could pitch batting practice. I think I can windmill tomorrow, and I’d like to practice on some real batters.”
“You think you can windmill?” Emily played it cool.
MacKenzie stood nearby, expressionless, but focused on the conversation. Juniper stood near the bench, out of earshot, looking nervous.
“Yeah,” Hailey said. “I’ve been practicing. It’s a little wild, but not crazy wild. I don’t throw it over the backstop or anything.”
“You shouldn’t have been practicing windmilling without proper form. You could hurt yourself.”
“I’ve got proper form.”
“How do you know that?”
“YouTube.”
Emily took a step closer to Hailey and lowered her voice. “I know she’s been helping you. What I don’t know is why that’s a secret.”
Hailey looked surprised, and then shrugged. “She thought she wasn’t allowed to practice.”
“But you guys have been doing it outside of practice hours, so it must be more than that.”
Hailey looked at Juniper and then back at Emily. “I think that she cares, but that she doesn’t want anyone to know that she cares.”
Emily nodded. “Fair enough. Let’s give it a try. MacKenzie, get your gear on.”
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Hailey was not very good at windmilling. But she was miles better than Emily thought she’d be, and she was far better than any other option they had. The young woman was truly an athlete. She looked miserable, grunted every time she released, and frequently rolled it across the plate—but still, it was something.
And her teammates were very supportive of her, especially MacKenzie, who had to work extra hard to keep the ball in front of her—by the end of practice, she was filthy. Emily had Ava put on the catching gear so that MacKenzie could get some swings in. After ten minutes of that, Ava ripped off her mask and exclaimed, “This sucks!”
Emily cocked an eyebrow. “Catching?”
“Yes! Catching! Who would ever want to be a catcher?”
“I love catching!” MacKenzie chirped.
Emily knelt down to help Ava out of the gear. “I’ve been meaning to tell you,” Ava said. “Since tomorrow might be our last games, I want to say thank you for this.”
Emily looked up at her. “For what?”
“For giving me softball my senior year. I was never any good at basketball, never even really liked it, and though I’m not great at softball, at least I’m kinda good? You know?”
Emily smiled and put her hand on Ava’s back. “You, my dear, are great at softball. And don’t let anyone tell you any different. I don’t even want to think about what this season would have been like without you.”
Ava beamed. “Maybe I could come back next year and help you? Maybe I could coach first?”
“Aren’t you going to college?”
Ava shrugged. “I didn’t apply anywhere.”
“Well, you’ve still got time to apply for the community colleges. I could help you with the process? Presque Isle has a softball team.”
Her eyes lit up. “Really?”
“Yep, and if you went there, you could major in windmill technology.”
Ava laughed. “That might not even be a bad plan.”
