I headed to my next class. Five days since that disastrous party, and I wanted desperately to try to put that night behind me. I had vowed not to drink or buy drugs for others. A wave of guilt hung over me and refused to lessen its grip.
I thought I could distance myself from Willow. But then softball practice started and everything changed and all the lines got redrawn. The start of softball season was typically a happy occasion for us Shepherd’s Bay players. It signaled the start of spring. It meant sunshine and grass, although the reality of a Maine spring was quite the opposite. The first four weeks of practice usually got held in the gym because of the messy fields and the accumulation of ice and snow.
Shepherd’s Bay High had never been a powerhouse in the sport. We muddled along, usually in the middle of the pack, but we had fun. Coach Hicks worked us hard and got the most out of our scrappy teams. Until that first day we all caught sight of Willow in the gym. I stood in disbelief as I watched her warm up. We all did. The way she zipped the ball underhanded through the air drew gasps from the girls standing nearby. It sounded like a gun going off every time the ball exploded in the catcher’s mitt. Then during drills she goofed off, and Coach Hicks blew his whistle and called her out on it. He did this time after time that week. Willow would scowl during the water breaks and call him all kinds of terrible names as sweat dripped down her face. She threatened to quit the team because of Coach Hicks, and it was up to me to calm her down and convince her to tough it out.
“Don’t worry. I won’t quit,” she told me during one practice.
“He’s only doing it to make us a better team,” I replied.
“I don’t need to be abused to be a better player. Besides, I hate softball.”
“Then why do you play?” I asked.
“To be with you, Katie.”
It soon became obvious that the other girls on the team resented Willow for her bad work habits, and yet she couldn’t care less what the others thought of her. Nor did she notice that they were giving her the cold shoulder and, in turn, giving it to me, as well. I hadn’t chosen this. In fact, I’d always had good relations with my teammates. But not this year. All that changed when she befriended me. Willow barely left my side during these practices, and thus my fate became sealed.
But no one could deny Willow’s athletic talent. She crushed every ball into the net as the sound of ball hitting aluminum echoed in the gym. Ball after ball she struck with a ferocity that frightened me. I wondered if she might kill an opposing pitcher with those vicious line drives. Then she’d take the mound and proceed to strike out every batter she faced. Blazing fastballs that whirred past like a ghost pitch. Curveballs that turned girls’ knees into jelly. She smiled devilishly when I stepped up to the plate during one practice. Then she proceeded to fire three fastballs past me. I swung at them all, a complete guessing game, each swing occurring well after the ball had reached the catcher’s mitt.
I couldn’t believe she hated softball. I loved it. If only I had half her talent.
It soon became obvious that our team had a real chance of winning states this year with Willow powering us. I knew the other girls didn’t like her and, in fact, resented her for taking the starting pitching job away from senior Emma Jeffries. But Coach Hicks always said he planned on playing the best, and Willow by far was our best player. As much as they resented her, the girls also recognized her talent and so were of two minds about Willow. They disliked her, but they would also ride on her coattails if it meant winning a state championship. Then again, they had no other choice if they planned on remaining on the team.
“What are you doing this weekend?” Willow asked after our Friday practice.
“Drew and I are going to a movie tonight.”
“Oh.” She seemed disappointed.
“What about you?”
“Probably hanging out with Dakota.”
Was she purposely trying to piss me off by mentioning Dakota’s name? It worked, because the sound of his name made me slightly jealous. But why should it when