Play On - Michelle Smith Page 0,88
on my face. Today’s game starts early, which means a certain pretty girl got off work even earlier. As soon as I see that girl waiting for me at my truck, my cheeks damn near hurt from smiling even bigger.
You see, crazy-love is pretty much the greatest thing to ever exist in this universe. It’s not always easy, but it’s a freakin’ blast. It’s the “can’t eat, can’t sleep, can barely breathe until I see her” kind of love. It’s the “just one more kiss on her front porch” kind of love. The kind of crazy that no one else understands, except me and her. Love ain’t right until you’ve lost your mind and that girl finds it and holds it for safe-keeping.
“Ninety-eight,” I call out, waving my test for her to see.
She shrieks and jumps up, wrapping her arms around my neck as I hug her back. “That’s amazing!” She scrunches her nose at me. “And three months ago, you were calling yourself an idiot. Idiots don’t get ninety-eights, Austin.”
I toss my backpack into the bed of my truck and grab my gear bag. “Well, someone had to help me get all smart and stuff. Remember?”
She rolls her eyes. “Your mom said she’ll be here as soon as she can. She was about to close up the shop when I left.”
Draping my arm across her shoulder, we start for the field. Tonight’s Senior Night, which means us seniors are going to be on display after the game, along with our parents. That’s all well and good, but part of me is depressed as hell. It’s the last official home game. It’s like one last nail in the high school baseball coffin. We’ve got playoffs and hopefully State, but after that, it’s over. Done. I’ve played ball with most of these guys since Little League. After graduation, we’ll be split across the country.
This day kind of sucks now.
Marisa wraps her arm around my waist. We’ve still got a couple hours before the post-game ceremony starts, but Brett and Eric’s momma is already on the field, talking to Coach. Their dad hasn’t been to any of our games since the wedding. Their momma hasn’t missed a minute. I always knew I liked Mrs. Perry.
I stop once we reach the bleachers. Take a deep breath. Grin. This? This is my home field. It doesn’t matter how ready I’ve been to leave, doesn’t matter how often I’ve counted down the days until August. This may be a nowhere town, but it’s my town. My home. And yeah, I’m gonna miss it.
Marisa heads on to the bleachers to wait for Momma. I hurry to the locker room to change, using its outside entrance. I swing the door open and the A/C hits me full-force, taking my breath away. Lockers stretch along the walls of the room, the open space in the middle empty except for the lone bench. It’s quiet. Still. That’ll change any minute now. The other guys will be here soon enough.
It shouldn’t be this hard. My gut shouldn’t feel like it’s ripping in half. But it is. And it does. My throat tightens as I head for my locker. The number 3 is scribbled on masking tape that stretches along the top, tape that’s worn and ragged and halfway falling off the metal. I claimed that number years ago. My dad claimed it before me. For today, the number’s still mine.
The locker room door slams closed. Jay strolls in, with his bag slung over his shoulder, looking about as doom–and-gloom as I feel. Like his gut’s shredding right along with mine. His jaw’s stiff as he says, “Damn. Thought I’d catch you crying.”
If he’d come in thirty seconds later, he might have.
He drops his bag onto the floor and sinks onto the bench, staring ahead at his locker. He shakes his head. “This sucks, dude. Does it feel like goodbye to you, too?”
Yep. I sit beside him and follow his gaze. Our lockers have always been side by side. In a few months, our lockers won’t even be in the same state. The guy’s been my right-hand man since we were zit-covered kids. I don’t know what I’m going to do without him.
“How you feelin’ about next year?” I ask. “New team. New coach. New pitcher.”
He blows out a breath. “Scared as hell. You?”
“Scared as hell.”
He leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “At least you’ll have Marisa. I’m losing my best friend and my boyfriend at the same time.”
“Does