breath, moved her arm back and let it fly. The ball slammed against the catcher’s glove a split second later, eliciting a pained grunt that Mikey ignored as she held up her glove for the ball’s return. She ignored the catcher’s curse as he tossed it back to her, the assistant coach’s shocked expression as he grabbed the radar gun, and the boys scrambling closer for a better view of her next pitch and threw the ball again.
Nothing else mattered.
The only thing she cared about was hitting her target and she made damn sure that she hit it every time. She kept throwing, giving it everything she had until the coach walked over and held up his hand, motioning for her to stop. With a nod, Mikey pulled her arm back and let it drop while she waited.
“How fast is she throwing?” Coach Dilmore asked as he glanced down at the iPad in his hands.
“She’s nailing ninety-five miles an hour, every time,” the assistant coach said, showing him the radar gun.
Absently nodding, Coach Dilmore glanced up at her as he said, “Keep throwing fastballs until I tell you to stop,” before shifting his attention back to the iPad in his hand and walking away.
Nodding, Mikey did what she was told. She kept throwing until he gestured for her to stop, and then told her to start throwing curveballs until he told her to stop again. She did that until he stopped her again and again, telling her to switch it up until finally he told her to go back to throwing fastballs before walking away. She kept throwing, ignoring the way that her arm was starting to ache and forced herself to focus. When he came back an hour later, he gestured for her to stop.
“Go bat,” he said, motioning for her get on with it.
Nodding, Mikey tossed the ball back to the pitcher and quickly did as she was told. Once she had a bat in her hands, she stepped up to home plate, rolled her arm a few times and got in position while a kid that looked a lot like the coach headed to the pitcher’s mound. Once he was settled, he took position and threw the ball, but she’d been ready for it. She saw the way that he gripped the ball before he threw it, letting her know that it was going to be a curveball. She managed to hit the ball, sending it to center field.
Before one of the boys trying out for center field managed to catch it, someone was throwing the kid another ball. He kept throwing the balls and she kept hitting them, ignoring the way that the muscles in her arm and shoulder protested and–
“Campbell, get back on the mound,” Coach Dilmore said a half hour later.
Nodding, Mikey dropped the bat. She grabbed her glove and headed back to the mound. She glanced at the coach to find him gesturing for her to get on with it. By the time he finally told her to stop, the muscles in her arm and shoulder were on fire and she could barely feel her hand, but she couldn’t stop smiling.
“Line up!” Coach Dilmore called out, and within minutes, had everyone hoping for a spot on the team standing quietly in front of him.
“Listen up,” Coach Dilmore said as he finally looked up from his iPad. “You all did a great job and you should be proud of yourselves. Unfortunately, I don’t have enough spots on the team for all of you, and in the event that you don’t make the team this year, I don’t want you to give up trying. Next year, I will be taking over as head coach at the high school for the freshman team and will do my best to try to find spots for those of you who put in the work,” he announced, taking Mikey by surprise, because she hadn’t known that he would be taking over at the high school next year.
If everything worked out this year, that meant she would have a better chance to start next year. She just had to make sure that she showed him what she had, Mikey told herself as she stood there, biting back a smile as she risked a glance to her right to find Sebastian watching her.
She could definitely do this.
“If you make the team this year, just know that you will be expected to show up on time, work hard, and leave the excuses