Page 40 of The Perfect Game

I walked out of the house and over to my car. As I opened the door, I heard the familiar sound of Ben’s foot on the moveable mound around back.

It would be all right. We all had bad days, and I couldn’t expect him to be happy all the time.

But as I drove back home, I felt just as empty as I usually did with my parents. All I could hope was that this was some fluke, because I’d never felt second-best when it came to Ben before. Maybe a bubble bath and some reality TV would help put things into perspective for me tonight.

Twenty-Four

Ben

It took another three buckets of balls for my brain to be okay with the results. My arm was tired, and I could feel soreness already in the side of my neck. I picked up the balls and put the bucket back in the small shed. I considered taking down the nets, but the thought of my dad and our conversation about the elite camp made me want to tick him off. He wasn’t a fan of anything out of place in the backyard, sometimes cleaning up even while we were playing.

Right now, I had to figure out a way to get into that camp. I had saved enough money for it, although it would make driving anywhere long distance or outside of my usual routes impossible. But to be working out in front of some of the state’s top baseball coaches, the chance to up my scholarship opportunities was priceless.

I wiped the sweat on the sides of my head on my sleeves, kicking off my shoes in the small space my mom had designated as a mudroom a few months before. Water was next on the radar, and I walked to the cupboard to pull out a glass. I stuck it under the dispenser on the front of the fridge, filling it until there was only a half-inch of space left in the cup. It took about four gulps to drain it, the cool water helping decrease the body heat from being outside in the Texas night air for longer than I should have.

My mom walked into the room, leaning her hip against the counter and her arms folded tightly. From her pursed lips, I could tell she was not happy about something.

“Are you back to normal? Or do I need to hit you on the head?”

“What do you mean? I’m always normal.” I set the glass into the sink and paused, knowing I needed a shower more than anything.

She shook her head. “Yourgirlfriendcame over to see you, and you acted like she wasn’t even here. I’m all for you going to this camp, but not at the expense of Serena. I suggest you find a way to make it up to her and fast.”

“Did she leave?” I panicked, just now realizing how late it was.

“Yeah. She said to have you call her when you’re back to normal.” My mom’s eyebrow rose as if challenging any wrong response I was going to share.

My stomach twisted as I felt the anger surge. I just wasn’t doing anything right anymore. “She’d probably be better off dating someone else anyway.” I bit my tongue, surprised at the words. But as I thought about them, they felt truer than I wanted to admit.

“Why would you say that?” My mom’s face showed just how disappointed she was in me, her narrowed eyes trained on my face. I knew I was going to be there a while when I saw that expression.

Pulling out a chair, I slumped into it, not wanting to go into any of this, least of all with my mom. But she would bug me over and over about it until I told her anyway.

“She’s dated a few other guys from school, but they never lasted very long, and they’re all the typical popular guys. I’m not one of those, Mom.”

My mom placed her hand on the table a few inches from me, towering. “Relationships go two ways, Benjamin David Clark. From what you’ve said, she initiated the boyfriend/girlfriend titles, and I’m willing to bet she kissed you first, so I would say she’s invested in the two of you. Were those guys even remotely like you in personality?” She paused, and I knew she wanted an answer.

“No.” It was true. The kind of guys she usually went for weren’t like me at all. Most of them were players or just all-around jerks.

“Then I suggest you make it right.”

“I will, Mom. I’ll talk to her right now.” I moved my fingers to trace the pattern on the tablecloth. “Will you talk to Dad? Please, I promise I won’t be as intense about practicing the rest of the week if I can go.” I was full-on begging at this point, and I added in the praying-hands pose in the hopes that it would sway her.

She nodded. “I’m not promising anything, but I’ll have a talk with him when he gets home from the gym.”

I blew out a breath. If there was anyone who could convince my dad of anything, it was her. Having her on my side was one thing I could count on for the most part because she always looked out for me, warning me of things that could go wrong.

Like with Serena. I’d been in the zone, wanting the pitches to hit the right spot, and I hadn’t taken the time to actually talk to her. I was just screwing things up right and left when it came to her, and we’d only been officially a couple for less than a day.

I headed up the stairs, trying to think of what I could say to her. My finger hovered over her name on my phone, trying to decide if I was going to call or text. As much as I wanted to send a message, I knew it would probably be better to call.

The ringtone sounded loud in my ear several times before I heard the line connect.

“Hello.” She said the word softly, and the guilt increased.

“Serena, I just wanted to say I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have been like that. It’s just that I really want to go to this camp—”

“You don’t have to explain,” she said, her words still softer than I’d ever heard her. “Your mom told me about the conversation with your dad.”

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