Chapter Eight
The Hornets had been invited to Memphis for the Beale Street Softball Tournament.
While the tournament was in its infancy—only two years old—it boasted stellar competition among the top Division II universities in the country, the perfect way to start a season.
Six games in three days would test them in ways they hadn’t imagined, and Razor couldn’t hold her excitement.
The bus jostled as the roads became rougher. Razor tumbled into the adjoining seat and eyed Summer across the aisle and two rows ahead of her. Summer bopped her head to the music in her earbuds, and Razor hoped whatever nerves were present would be channeled into her pitching when the time came.
Her talk with Ashton had been insightful.
She’d gone to practice that day with a new perspective and walked up to her teammates first thing.
She loved listening to them laugh and joke while they stretched, making her feel like she belonged.
At the first water break, Razor walked up to Nancy and immediately apologized for her attitude.
Nancy looked shocked, but she got over it quickly and shook Razor’s hand.
She promptly ordered Razor back behind the plate, and Razor wouldn’t have expected anything different.
Summer, however, hadn’t been as pliable.
“You want to be friends? Best buddies?” Summer spat. “So, what? You can say you did your good deed for the year and leave us like you did in San Diego?”
The venom stung, and the accusation hit Razor hard. She didn’t know where Summer heard about SDS, or what details she knew, but it effectively caused the chasm between them to grow. However, Razor wasn’t about to give up.
The click-click of the wheels against the road alerted her to the crossing of the Memphis & Arkansas Bridge. As the bus merged into the right lane, she crossed the aisle and plopped down in the vacant seat next to Summer.
“What do you want?” Summer groused when she pulled an earbud out.
“Nervous?”
Summer glared at her as if Razor had accused her of a crime.
“I’m fine.”
Summer returned the earbud to its place and cranked the music. Razor gently tapped her shoulder.
“What?” The shout caused a few heads to turn. Summer’s cheeks turned pink.
“It’s okay to be nervous for your first game,” Razor whispered.
“I’m not nervous.”
“Your leg says otherwise.”
Summer stared at the bouncing appendage. Razor’s lips quirked up when Summer slapped her hand down and stopped all movement.
“Remember, things are going to happen that are out of your control. Batters are going to hit, get on base. It’s part of the game. The important thing is how you respond.”
Summer looked Razor in the eye. “I thought you said you weren’t going to coach me anymore.”
“This isn’t coaching. It’s a pep talk.”
“Well, your pep talk sucks,” Summer mumbled.
Razor dug her nails into her palms. Getting into a verbal sparring match before their first game wasn’t helpful. “I find being realistic is important when it comes to expectations.”
Summer let out an exasperated sigh. “Well, now I am nervous. Thanks.”
She went to put the earbud back in, but Razor stopped her with a touch on her arm. “Please stop sulking. I know I messed up by trying to coach you, but I’m trying to be your teammate. And no matter how you feel about what you think I did in San Diego, I’m not going anywhere.”
“Did you give your team in San Diego that speech before or after you left?”
Razor shook her head and sighed. Not wanting to say or do something irreversible, she went back to her seat frustrated and angry, passing Harper on the way.
“Let me talk to her,” Harper whispered and took the seat next to Summer.
The bus slowed and took the exit for Memphis University.
They entered through a set of large iron gates and passed beneath a banner welcoming the competing teams. When they filed out and grabbed their gear, Ashton bounded over with a big smile on her face.
Despite Razor’s turmoil over Summer, she returned it with ease.
“Excited?”
“I’d be more excited if Summer hadn’t refortified the brick wall between us.”
Ashton crossed her arms and raised her eyebrow. “Is it going to be a problem when you get on the field?”
Razor laughed despite the worry settling in her chest. “Nah. We may have our issues, but Summer is a professional. She’ll get it together. We will get it together. You’ll see. We’ll surprise all these teams with how far we’ve come.”
Ashton gave a small smile and walked away. Alone again, Razor’s smile faded. She hadn’t really lied. They could do well in this tournament, as long as they performed and didn’t give in to pressure.
* * *
Ashton pushed her remaining salad around the plate. The last two days had been long and excruciating. She’d thought they’d lose one, maybe two games. But four? Very disheartening.
She rubbed her head to stave off a headache. Their progress this past fall semester was an indicator they would come out guns blazing. But this did not look like that team. If she was being perfectly honest, they didn’t look like a team at all. Just nine individuals taking up space on the field.
In the first game, Sabrina and Emery allowed the winning run to get on base when they both went for a slow-rolling infield ball and collided.
Tori and Hannah missed easy throws in game two, which was uncharacteristic of them.
Ashton had no clue what was going on with Summer and Razor, which presented a lot of frustration on its own.
Razor put in the effort, but Summer either didn’t believe her or just didn’t care.
Her attitude was ice cold, and she didn’t plan to thaw anytime soon.
Ashton dropped her fork with a loud clang and slumped back in her chair.
She noticed half-eaten burgers and untouched fries around the room.
Except for Razor. She typed frantically on her phone with one hand and shoveled fries into her mouth with gusto.
Curious behavior for someone who’d looked as frustrated as everyone else when they boarded the bus back to the hotel.
Maybe she was texting Jimmy to let him know she’d be back full-time at Slugfest next week.
Ashton wouldn’t blame her after this performance.
She cleared the thought from her brain and stacked her dishes. She wanted to sulk in her room, but she had duties first.
“Is there anything we need to go over before tomorrow?”
Courtney rubbed her hands over her face. “No. I think we covered everything earlier. If you’ll excuse me, I’m going to go up to my room, call my family, and re-evaluate my career choice.”
She dumped her dirty dishes in the designated bins. Ashton followed suit with Nancy in tow.
“You want to come back to my room and hang out?” Nancy asked. “I got some whiskey up there. After the last couple of days, it seems warranted.”
Ashton shook her head. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Razor race out of the dining room.
“I’m exhausted and want to go to bed. We have a long day tomorrow.”
Nancy nodded. “That’s probably best. Be good to have a clear head and try to salvage this weekend.” She turned and took in the same dour faces Ashton had earlier. “It’s a shame. This team has all the pieces to be winners. They just need to believe it.”
“I have no doubt they believe it,” Ashton said. “But this program hasn’t had a lot of success over the years. Knowing they’re on the cusp of turning it around, and that success rests on their shoulders? It’s a lot of pressure.”
“You’re telling me,” Nancy agreed. “At least Razor seems to be handling the pressure. I’ll admit I was a little worried.”
“Oh?” Ashton was intrigued. She’d intentionally kept her distance from Razor after their discussion in her office, giving Razor time to make the corrections she had suggested.
“Yeah,” Nancy replied. “At first, I was worried she was going to run right over my instruction and try to coach Summer herself, but…”
“But?” Ashton prompted.
“She surprised me. Came up during practice last week and apologized for her behavior.”
“Really?” Ashton feigned surprise, but inside she was relieved.
“Yeah. I mean, I honestly wasn’t surprised when she started coaching Summer, but to come up and say she was wrong? After our history? I think we turned a corner in our relationship.”
Ashton smiled. “I’m glad to hear that.”
“Unfortunately, Summer is dragging her heels. While strides have been made, it’s obvious she still resents Razor’s presence.”
“Have you tried talking to her?”
Nancy chuckled. “The subject of Razor is one area Summer refuses to discuss.” Ashton followed Nancy’s gaze across the dining room to Summer, sulking and pushing her food around.
“I hope she’ll come around soon. Like, tomorrow.
I guarantee it’ll have a positive impact on the mentality of the team if those two can get on the same page. ”
“One can only hope,” Ashton said.
Nancy patted Ashton’s shoulder and headed toward the door. “Hopefully our combined prayers will reach the softball gods. Right now, my bed is calling to me. I’ll see you in the morning.”
Ashton folded her arms and leaned against the wall, feeling frustrated. But she couldn’t show that to the team. They felt dejected enough.
“All right everyone, grab your plates and put them in the bins. Then you’re free until curfew. Bed check is at ten p.m.”
Chairs scraped against the floor. Dishes clanged and glasses clinked as they were dropped into the bins.
Suddenly, a cacophony of electronic beeps, buzzes, bells, and whistles disrupted the rhythm of clatter.
Everyone checked their phones and looked confused.
Ashton felt a vibration in her pocket and found a text from Razor on her screen.
Meet me in the hotel lobby in fifteen minutes.
Her confusion matched everyone else’s. What was Razor up to?