Page 12 of Off Season

Opening the door, I see Bails sitting on the couch, innocently reading her book. Holding out my hand, I say, “Come with me. I won’t go anywhere without you again. Ever.”

My eyes pop open, and I sit up, breathing heavily. My clothes are sticking to my sweaty body like a second skin. I look around. It was just a nightmare. It’s been eighteen years since that day, but the nightmares never leave me. What was he doing there? What if I didn’t come back for her? I vowed that day to never leave her side, and I never will.

It’s also the last day I ever called Beverly Hart mother.

Looking back at that day through the years has given me perspective. Some days, I hope I misinterpreted the situation, but most days I’m confident I didn’t.

At least this nightmare was true to the events of that day as I remember them. Sometimes I have them where I don’t come back for Bailey. After those, I don’t let myself sleep for a week.

I look at the clock. It’s three in the morning. I got three hours of sleep. That’s not bad for me. I’ve been an insomniac since that day. Half because of the nightmares, and half because I have this constant need to check on my sister to make sure she’s okay.

I get up and tiptoe over to her bedroom. Quietly opening her door, I see her peacefully asleep. Relief washes over me. She’s so pure and good-hearted. I know I’ve manipulated things in our lives to keep her close to me, but it’s because I love her and want to keep her safe.

She was a great basketball player in high school. An all-state basketball player. I knew we weren’t going to end up at the same college if I didn’t do something drastic. I all but forced her to startplaying softball so we could be together. Even though she’s the better overall athlete, I was a superstar softball player with offers from every top college softball program in the country. I chose the best school that agreed to give my sister a scholarship too. I knew she’d end up a star. She can do anything she sets her mind to.

When we graduated from college and she considered getting her masters in childhood education, I again manipulated things to make sure we were drafted by the same professional softball team out of Chicago and begged her to come with me. The thought of living far away from her was adding to my always-present anxiety.

And when Reagan Daulton, the owner of the Philly Anacondas, called me about signing me to her team, I let her know we were a package deal. In fairness to Bails, she’s become an elite softball player too. Mrs. Daulton was more than happy to acquiesce to my demand.

Here we are, ten years removed from high school, and Bails and I never do anything without each other. She doesn’t know exactly what happened that day, but at the time, she suspected something had gone down. That’s when I stopped considering Beverly Hart my mother, and I wasn’t afraid to make it clear. It’s also when I started truly acting out so we could eventually stop being pushed into something we hated. It took two more years, but we finally enrolled in regular school and were able to participate in activities of our choosing. That’s when our mother started hitting the bottle. Hard.

Grabbing my laptop, I plop down on the couch and do what I do almost every night.

We’rein the locker room about to head out to our first game of the season. The first game ever for the Philly Anacondas franchise. It’s kind of cool to be a part of history. And our team is good.Verygood. Even though Bailey and I haven’t played with Arizonaand Ripley in six years, it’s as though no time has passed. There’s a chemistry between the four of us that you can’t manufacture. It’s just there.

Coach Billie walks out of her office. She’s about fifteen years older than us. She is a former Olympic outfielder. She’s tiny, with light hair and blue eyes. She’s got more energy and enthusiasm than a brand-new puppy.

She smiles at me. In her cheery demeanor, she asks, “How are you feeling, Kam? Ready to kick ass?”

“Always, Coach Billie.”

She does her trademark pump of her fist. “Excellent. You’re the shortstop. That means you’re the team leader. Our general. King Cobra, if you will. The younger players on the team look up to you, Bailey, Ripley, and Arizona. You’re all legends and seem likely to be on the Olympic team in four years. I need you to teach them. To guide them. To lead them.”

I salute her. “Yes, commander.”

Her steadfast smile falls a bit as she rubs my back. “Is everything okay? You look tired.”

I’ve been tired for eighteen years. I force out a smile. “I’m fine. I didn’t sleep well last night.”

“Must be the new city. I think it’s an adjustment for everyone.”

I nod and lie, “Probably.”

She must pick up on something because she says, “Kamryn, my door is always open to you. I love being your biggest cheerleader, but I can also be a friend when you need one.” She looks over at Bailey, Arizona, and Ripley. “Maybe when you need one who isn’t quite as entrenched in your life.”

“Thanks, Coach. I’m good. I’m excited about the game.”

“Fantastic.”

As she returns to her office, I walk over to my friends who are talking to our young third baseman. Her name is Amber, and they seem to be consoling her. I pinch my eyebrows together. “What’s wrong?”

Arizona winces. “Her boyfriend just broke up with her.”

I shake my head. “Asshole. Just before opening day? What a prick. We can key his car after the game. Ooh, maybe we’ll pour some sugar in his gas tank.” Unbeknownst to Bailey, I did that to her ex-boyfriend in Chicago. He dicked over the wrong woman. “Is this the guy you said moved in with you a few months ago?” I ask.

Amber visibly swallows. “Yes. He said he’s moving in with someone else. And before me, he was living with another woman.”

I give her a knowing smile. “Ahh, I know guys like him. They’re called hobosexuals.”

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