“Come on, QD! Strike ’em out!” Mr. Miller yelled from the sidelines. We were one out away from advancing to the regional tournament in Indiana. Only one out away. And I was on the mound.

I felt the stitching on the ball with my pointer finger. One more strike, Quinnen. One more, I told myself. I wound up and threw. The batter, the only girl on the opposing team, held her ground. She didn’t swing. She knew it was outside, barely.

“Ball two,” the umpire said.

“Turds,” I muttered under my breath. The score was 2–1, Panthers, with nobody on base, but all it would take was one really good swing from this girl, and the score would be tied.

Nope. Not going to happen, I thought. Not on my watch. I stared her down and wound up again. She swung. Swung and hit it. A little dribbler down the first-base line. Easy out. But Damien bobbled it somehow. He bobbled it, and she was safe. Safe at first. No, no, no!

“Shake it off, Quinnen!” Coach yelled from the sidelines. I really, really, really couldn’t let the next batter get a hit. I had to stop this now.

I took a deep breath. You’ve got this; you’ve got this, I told myself. I let my breath out. Okay. I do. I can do this. I let one fly.

The batter swung. The ball went up, up, up, straight up. Katie flung her helmet off and jogged backward. Our entire team watched as the ball landed in Katie’s glove with a little thunk. I’m sure the umpire said something about us advancing to the tournament in Indiana, but none of us were listening. We were all running to Katie, high-fiving all over the place. Good thing she was wearing all that padding; otherwise, she would’ve been covered in bruises.

Katie squealed when I got to her, my raised hands up for double high fives. “We did it!” she screamed, hugging me.

“Watch out, Indiana!” I said.

“You did great, kiddo.” Coach patted me on the back. It was hard to tell under all that beard, but I’m pretty sure he was smiling.

“Thanks.”

“I think a win this special calls for an extra-special treat. Who’s down for some pizza at Antonio’s?” Coach asked.

People all the way in Indiana could probably hear us screaming.

Casey’s mom came over and squeezed my shoulders extra-hard. “Geez, Mrs. Sanders. Watch out for my arm,” I said, laughing.

“Wouldn’t want to mess with that,” she said. “Your mom and dad must be awfully proud of you.”

Well…maybe, I thought. I knew Dad was, but sometimes I wasn’t so sure about Mom. Sure, she’d come to my games and cheer, but it never felt like she cheered as loud as Dad and Haley. I wondered if she wished I was in the drama club or on the math team instead, like her when she was my age.

“They’re coming to the tournament, right?”

I nodded.

When we first realized we’d be going to Indiana if we won this game, Mom and Dad scheduled the time off from work. They wanted to make sure they would be there for my really important games. But what if we hadn’t won today and were eliminated?

As I learned when Haley disappeared on me, you never know when you’re going to have a big moment until it’s happening.

“Let us know if you need a ride to Antonio’s,” Mrs. Sanders said.

“I will.”

I checked my phone to see if Haley had called or sent me a text message during the game. She had special plans for her friend Gretchen’s birthday today, but she was going to come pick me up afterward since Mom was working and Dad had an out-of-town meeting. Haley told me she felt bad about missing my game but that it wasn’t up to her when Gretchen scheduled her birthday bash. I guessed that was true.

No missed calls. No new text messages.

By the time I had taken off my cleats, put on my flip-flops, and gathered up all my stuff, half the team had already left with their families.

“Is Haley coming to get you?” Katie asked. She chewed on the plastic straw of her water bottle.

I glanced out at the parking lot, expecting to see her car pull in. “Yeah. She should be here any minute.”

“Do you want us to wait with you until she gets here?”

I shook my head. “No, that’s okay.” I checked my phone again.

“See you at Antonio’s,” Katie said. “I’ll save you a seat.” As she followed her parents off the field, I carried my bag over to the edge of the parking lot and sat down on the bench. It was bad enough that Mom or Dad couldn’t pick me up like all the other parents, but now Haley had to be late, too? And where was Gretchen having her party, anyway? I didn’t remember Haley telling me.

Cars pulled out of the parking lot one by one. I dialed Haley’s number and pressed the phone to my ear. It went straight to voicemail. “Haley, everyone’s leaving. I’m the only one who hasn’t been picked up. Are you coming?”

I held my phone in my lap so I wouldn’t miss the call or text back. There was only one car left now. Coach’s.

I had the worst feeling in my stomach, like I’d eaten way too much ice cream.

Where are you, Haley? I wondered, folding my legs up against my chest and hugging them tight.

Coach’s car door opened and he walked out toward me.

“Your folks running late?”

I shook my head. “My sister,” I said. “I called her, but nobody answered.”

“Haley usually comes to the games, right? Rainbow chair?”

“Yeah,” I said. “She used to.”

“Did you try calling your parents?”

I shook my head again. “No. I guess I can try.” I dialed Dad’s cell phone number. It rang and rang. I was about to leave a message when he picked up.

“Quinnen?”

“Dad? My game’s over, but Haley isn’t here. She didn’t come to pick me up.”

“Did you try calling her?”

“Yeah,” I said. “But her phone is turned off or something.”

Dad’s voice got a little higher. “I’m at least an hour away, Quinnen. I’m sure Haley’s on her way. Maybe she just got tied up.”

“Daddy, Coach has to stay with me until someone picks me up. Everyone’s at Antonio’s by now.” I couldn’t hold them in any longer. Tears splashed out onto my cheeks. I turned my head away so Coach wouldn’t see me cry. There’s no crying in baseball—everybody knows that. I rubbed my fist against my face so Coach would think I was scratching an itch on my nose.

Music blared out the window of a car coming down the road. I didn’t have to look up to know who it was. “Never mind,” I told Dad. “Haley just got here.” I hung up the phone.

Coach patted me on the back. “Don’t worry about this. I had a teenage brother, too, when I was your age. See you at Antonio’s, kiddo.”

Haley hadn’t said she’d be bringing all of her friends, but the car was full of them. I dragged my bag over to her car and tossed it in the trunk. I didn’t even know which back door to open. It didn’t look like there was room in the backseat. Or the front seat.

Haley rolled down her window all the way. The music was so loud I could barely hear her. “Whose lap do you want to sit on?”

I didn’t want to sit on anybody’s lap. I glanced in the backseat. Gretchen, Larissa, and some other girl I didn’t know took up all the spots. One of the other camp counselors, Heaven, was in the front seat next to Haley.

I opened the door on the side with Larissa. She was always nice to me.

“Hop on,” she said. “At least you don’t weigh much.”

“There’s no seat belt,” I said once I got settled in on Larissa’s lap. I hadn’t sat on a lap since I was little and used to sit on my grandma’s lap. Larissa was a lot bonier than Grandma.

“We’re not going far,” Haley said.

“Are you giving everyone a ride home?” I asked, hoping somebody’s house was just down the street, so I could sit buckled in on a seat like a normal person. I didn’t think Mom would be cool with this seating arrangement.

“I’m taking everyone to the movies,” Haley said.

The movies?

“But my whole team is at Antonio’s,” I said. “I thought we were going to…” But there was no point in finishing my sentence. Haley had her blinker on to turn right. Left to Antonio’s. Right to go to the movie theater. “Haley, come on.”

“Majority rules, Quinnen. If you want to go to the movies, raise your hand.”

Everyone but me raised a hand.

“If you want to go to Antonio’s…” Haley was laughing as she gave the option.

“Just stop, Hales. I’m not going to raise my hand.”

“I was just trying to be democratic about the whole thing.” She smiled at me in the rearview mirror, but I wasn’t buying it.

For the rest of the ride to the movie theater, all I could do was stare out the window as Haley and her friends laughed and laughed about something that had happened at Gretchen’s party. They wouldn’t even give me the details so I could laugh, too. It was like they wanted it to be an inside joke. Like, even if they explained, I wouldn’t get it.

Outside, there was a boy a bit younger than Haley, running down the street with a little brown curly-haired dog on a leash. I kept thinking I’d rather be that dog right now than be in this car with my sister and her friends, with all of them laughing. I’d rather be a dog on a leash.

And I didn’t even like dogs.