Spring Season
Didn’t have much time because of Mother’s Day, but here’s my entry 😅⚾️
“I can’t go out there, there’s pollen.”
Rachel gripped her bat tightly, trying to avoid all eye contact.
Elizabeth placed her hands on her hips, eyes narrowing. “You’ve never had an issue with it before?”
“Well, that was different,” Rachel stammered, “I forgot to take my allergy medicine this time.”
Elizabeth shook her head, but retreated to the front of the batting cage without another word.
A sigh escaped Rachel’s mouth, much louder than she had intended, and her hand flew up to cover her mouth.
Then a sinking feeling spread like fever in her stomach.
She felt bad for lying, truly she did. But the pain of guilt stung far less than the burning humiliation she knew she’d face if she stood her place on the field.
It had been exactly four weeks, three days since she had cost the team their prized winning streak — and she wasn’t about to forget it.
But those feelings collided and grew to nausea as an ear‑splitting sound silenced the crowd.
Everyone froze as the ball slipped from the pitcher’s fingers and flew off course, hitting the batter smack dab on the knee.
She took it bravely, but the coach knew better.
“Let’s sit this round out, Mel.” His fingers traced down the list of girls hanging from the wire.
Rachel held her breath, but it was no use.
“Rachel, you’re up,” the coach bellowed.
All eyes turned slowly to her, and she could’ve sworn someone winced. The game might as well have been lost.
She shakily took up her bat, and fidgeted with her helmet, taking slow, deliberate steps to the plate.
Dust flew with each dry step, but it was no use.
Rachel took a deep breath, desperately trying to swallow down her fears that had conveniently lodged themselves in her way. But she raised her bat above her shoulders and stared the pitcher straight in the eyes.
She watched as she wound up her arms, eyes glued to the ball.
It flew through the air faster than she could react.
“Strike one,” the umpire called.
Phoebe stomped her feet on first, digging into the dirt, and prepared to run.
The pitcher began to wind, and off Phoebe went. Rachel leaned back, then took a step forward, swinging the bat with all her might.
“Strike two,” the umpire shouted.
She could’ve sworn someone felt the heat creep up her neck. With one on third, and one on second, all the pressure was on her shoulders.
“Come on, Rachel,” the coach shouted, “remember what we practiced.”
Rachel gulped.
The pitcher wound up again; Rachel leaned back. This time she refused to lose sight of the ball. Her arms ached as she pulled the bat back, then swung it forward with all of her shame, anger, and disappointment.
A crack sounded in the air. Rachel opened her eyes.
She tossed away the bat and began to run.
She ran to first, she ran to second, then a cheer rose from the crowd.
She craned her neck. Surely she couldn’t have? Did she?
A new flush settled as she spied a girl from the other team standing still at the fence, staring after the ball on the other side.
She filled her basket with blueberries and on her way home she met a unicorn. They talked a little bit, but then she said “I have to go before my mother gets upset.”
So she went and gave her blueberries to her mother. Her mother made her go out and pick blueberries every day and every day the unicorn came and visited. The unicorn and Susanna built a great relationship. It grew better over the years. The unicorn and Susanna lived happily ever after.
The end.
The allergic astronaut by SlyPigglet3 (girl, age 10.5, who wrote a completely different story, couldn’t work in the required dialog, so wrote this and said “that seems good.”)
