The Decision
“They’re predicting nineteenth round.” He grinned that boyish, eye-squinting grin that she knew she should return, but Kate couldn’t. She just sat in their usual booth at the diner on the edge of campus and didn’t move. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing.” Kate swirled the straw in her water. “Nineteenth round. Wow.”
Blake nodded, his smile drooping a little. “Yeah, I mean, it’s not the top, but it’s still a fat signing bonus. I don’t think staying senior year is going to change much.” He reached across the table to hold her hand. “I know it’s scary, but we can do the distance, Katie. I know we can.”
But it wasn’t the distance that left her nauseated.
His news made her so envious that she stewed under the vintage light fixture, the jukebox crooning behind them, hating that Blake wouldn’t have to lose the game like she would.
In less than two years, it would end for her.
There wasn’t a draft for softball players or a chance at a professional career.
Every few decades, women’s leagues rose and crumbled, and even if one did again, it wasn’t enough of a paycheck to live off.
Not even the Olympics was a guarantee, as the sport frequently got dropped from the summer games.
Kate forced a smile. “I’m happy for you.”
But after they kissed, Blake narrowed his eyes. “You sure you’re okay?”
“Yeah.” Kate sighed. “Just tired from practice, trying to hold my own against Abby.”
“Right.” Blake gulped a too-big bite of his burger. “Has Whit decided yet?”
She shook her head and picked at his fries.
“Well, don’t put so much pressure on yourself. Maybe you can split time at shortstop again this year.” He shrugged and Kate resisted responding that it was easy for him to say. “You’re competing with baseball royalty. She’s got like a dozen golden gloves and home run derbies in her DNA.”
“Big Blake!”
The baritone rumble signaled the arrival of Blake’s teammates, who brazenly piled into their booth. When Blake apologized, Kate waved him off and dismissed herself. Her mind was already elsewhere, had been for weeks, months maybe—tied up with Abby Cruz.
They continued to study and train together through winter term.
They still didn’t exchange many words, but the stubborn lines loosened between them.
Perhaps Abby befriending Mick helped things, or maybe it was that Kate spent winter break wondering what she was doing and who she was with.
Or maybe it was that Abby stopped scowling whenever Kate helped her in the library, and while her stares didn’t stop, Kate swore less anger brewed there, even if it still made her blush.
Of course, at practice, her desire to win, to be the best, tugged her back in the other direction.
She’d set her mind to it, pushing to be faster, throwing harder, grunting and huffing while Abby glided.
Kate ignored her rare compliments or suggestions, slamming her locker shut next to her, only to spend the night wishing for it to be tomorrow, when they’d see each other again.
She fought the same whiplash as she walked back to the blue house, Abby once again on her mind.
She came over more often after winter break to hang out with Mick and the others, and each time Kate pulled open the door, she secretly hoped to find her, though she wouldn’t dare extend the invitation herself.
Just as she didn’t dare break out in the grin her mouth twitched for when she spotted her at the kitchen table with T.K. and Jill.
Kate cleared her throat as she closed the back door. “What are you doing here?”
“Helping them with their Spanish homework,” Abby said.
“You speak Spanish?” Kate asked.
“Yeah, kind of.” Abby shrugged. “It was my first language thanks to Audie. No wonder I suck at English.”
“You don’t suck at English. You just never do the assigned reading.”
Abby rolled her eyes.
“How do I ask a man how much money he makes?” T.K. twirled her hair around a finger.
“That’s not on the test,” Jill said.
“It should be. I’m going to Spain this summer.”
Abby cackled, and Kate realized she had never heard her really laugh before. Not sarcastic or half-hearted, but full. Her chest fluttered at how Abby threw her head back and glowed.
“Okay, try this. Soy una prostituta. Estoy buscando un sugar daddy.”
Kate snorted as T.K. repeated it with gusto. Abby chortled again too, deep and hearty, her gaze settling into Kate’s. When the laughter ended, she longed for it to return, to move closer or stay, but she was still the competition. She still intended to win.
“I’m going to study upstairs. Night.”
Abby’s smile faded, but she nodded. “Good night.”
By late February, a few rainless days allowed them to return to the field.
They layered sweatshirts and fleece headbands as wind whipped through the gorge.
The type of cold that made each grounder sting when it hit their mitts.
Kate and Abby switched off at shortstop, huffing clouds into the frost, exchanging side glances and the occasional nod. Until it happened.
Coach Whitley paused infield drills. “Hutchins, move over to second. Cruz, stay at short.”
It plunged an already freezing Kate into ice. She sucked in a sharp gasp. All the hard work meant nothing. Abby had finally won. Kate clenched a fist and shifted to the other side of the infield. She felt Abby’s gaze on her cheek, a sensation she’d become accustomed to, but stared straight ahead.
“Let’s turn two!” Coach Whitley shouted.
While second base wasn’t much different than shortstop, with as much ground to cover, Kate found it uncomfortable, like using your nondominant hand. The crushing fury didn’t help her focus either. She planted her feet on the bag as Abby flipped the ball. Kate fumbled it in her glove.
“Again!” Coach Whitley barked before smacking a rough hopper at Abby.
Abby handled it on the bounce and lobbed it low. Kate caught the toss but struggled to transfer it from her glove to her hand. She at least managed a throw to Jill this time.
“Too slow, Hutchins!”
Kate glared at Abby. “That was a low toss.”
“Just barehand it,” Abby snapped back and spit into the dirt.
The next ball zipped between shortstop and third. Abby dove and snagged it on her stomach. She twisted like a cat, tossing the ball to Kate from the dirt. She caught it as the practice runner slid into the base and clipped her ankles, sending her to the ground with a thud.
Kate clenched her teeth while she lay on her back and stared at the overcast sky.
“I’m so, so sorry. I’m sorry, Hutch. I didn’t mean to.”
The runner, Madison Quong, apologized profusely until Abby nudged her out of the way and hovered over Kate.
“You okay?” she asked, hauling her up.
Kate hated that her stomach swooped at Abby’s concern. At how her hand lingered on hers so that she had to yank it back despite not wanting to. “You’re going to get me killed.”
“I’m not the problem,” Abby scoffed. “Your timing is way off.”
“You put me in the line of the runner.”
Abby threw her head back. “It’s not my fault that you’re not aware of your surroundings.”
“Well, this isn’t my position!” Kate shouted.
“Okay, that’s enough! Enough for today!” Coach Whitley encouraged the rest of the team to disperse as she joined them at second base. “Kate, we’re just trying things out.”
“No. I know what this is.” Kate ripped off her glove and charged for the dugout.
Mick, Jill, and T.K. knew better than to go near her as she packed her things, but Abby didn’t hesitate. Her heavy feet plodded down the dugout steps.
“I’m sorry,” Abby said.
Kate refused to turn from her bat bag. “No, you’re not.”
Abby groaned. “Fuck it then. I’ll play second.”
“What?” Kate jerked her head up.
“I don’t care. I’ll do it if it means that much to you.” Abby shrugged.
“Are you serious?”
“Yeah. I can play anywhere.”
More insulting than her nonchalance was that it was true. The team couldn’t afford to not have Abby in the lineup, and Kate knew there wasn’t a position she couldn’t master.
“If you don’t care, why have you been trying for shortstop this whole time?”
Abby squinted as if it were obvious. “I always play there because I’ve always been the best at it.”
“Exactly! You’re the best at it, so don’t give it to me out of pity!”
“Here we go again,” Mick said to Jill as she unclipped her shin guards.
“Oh, like you’ve been helping me out of pity?” Abby roared back.
Kate shuddered. Her heart trilled the same way it did during their argument before winter break. “Why do you hate me for helping you?”
“The same reason you hate me for offering to play second base! Consider us even.”
“No!”
Abby stood less than an inch from her, sweaty hair poking out from her stocking cap, eyes burning through Kate’s. “What do you want from me?” she asked.
Kate’s mouth dropped open for words that didn’t come. The scrappy inflection short-circuited her brain, spilled currents down her spine, sparking a rush of heat across her skin. Her knees might’ve buckled if it weren’t for Jill bumping in behind her.
“Okay, show’s over, folks,” Jill said. “Let’s take a walk. Abby, go smoke a cigarette or something.”
“She’s not supposed to smoke,” Kate said.
Abby gritted her teeth. “You’re not my babysitter.”
“Maybe I should be.” Kate didn’t veer her eyes from Abby’s. Something inside warned that breaking from her gaze would be more unbearable than the discomfort she endured beneath it.
“Okay, I’ll take Cruz.” Mick jerked Abby away and nodded at Jill. “You got Hutch. We’ll take this up again tomorrow.”
Kate watched Abby stomp out of the dugout, ignoring Jill’s assurances, inflamed with rage, and a senseless flutter. One she couldn’t shake, even as she lost what she thought she wanted most.
Abby knocked on Coach Whitley’s door two days after she named her shortstop. “You got a minute?” she asked.
“Of course.” Coach Whitley waved her inside. “I actually wanted to talk to you too.”
Abby gulped. “Oh.”