A World Without Heroes
Page 3
“Don’t try to murder the ball,” Jason suggested.
“I’d settle for assault and battery,” Tim grumbled.
On the next pitch Tim crushed a hard ground ball to the left side of the cage. Jason alternated glances between Tim and a labeled image in his biology textbook. He was memorizing the human skeletal system for a test.
“Get your nose out of that book,” Matt murmured to Jason as Tim fouled the next pitch back into the netting.
“I have to head to the zoo after this,” Jason apologized. “I won’t have much time to study today.”
“Trust me,” Matt said, nodding toward their left.
Jason turned his head to find a pair of girls coming toward them. They were April and Holly Knudsen, fraternal twins in his grade at Kennedy Middle School. The girls were not much alike in appearance or interests, especially for twins. Prettier and more studious, April was in three of Jason’s honors classes, including biology. Louder and sportier, Holly held a softball bat in one hand and a batting helmet in the other.
Only two girls at school made Jason feel queasy and self-conscious: Jen Miller and April Knudsen. They were pretty, and smart, and seemed down-to-earth. Jason harbored secret crushes on both of them.
“Hey, guys,” Holly called.
Jason tried to smile. He was suddenly very aware of the textbook in his hands. Would it make him look like a nerd, reading a biology book at the batting cages?
Matt said nothing. He seldom spoke much around girls. Jason tried to make his voice casual. “Hi, Holly. April.”
“Getting ready for your last season before high school ball?” Holly wondered.
Tim whacked a hard fly ball.
“Coach Thayer is already scouting Jason,” Matt said. “He might end up pitching for varsity as a freshman.”
It was true. Jason had hit a growth spurt at the end of sixth grade. His hitting had initially fallen apart as he’d adjusted to his height, while his pitching had started to gain some real speed. He now stood almost six feet tall. His hitting was recuperating, and his fastball was up into the eighties, but his control had suffered.
“Wow, freshmen boys almost never play varsity,” Holly admired. “They almost took state last year.”
“I’m not sure how much I impressed Thayer,” Jason confessed. “My pitches were all over the place.”
“Only one guy on next year’s high school team throws faster than you,” Matt said. “When you throw your best stuff, I can’t hit you.”
“I tense up lately,” Jason admitted with a grimace. Over the past year, during games, he had started to feel very self-conscious, and erratic pitches had been the result. He had blown some games by giving up too many walks, and he’d lost a key game with a wild pitch. He had also hit a few batters, and at the speeds he was throwing, that was a big deal. No opposing batters had been seriously hurt, but they could have been.
At first Jason had assumed the increased speed of his pitches had caused the problem. But then Matt and Tim had begun to notice that he routinely threw better during informal games or practices. It bothered Jason to think that he had lost games because he lacked the guts to throw well under pressure. Maybe the problem came from dwelling on how much others expected from him. Maybe he was expecting too much from himself, fixating on perfection. Or maybe his skills were simply fading.
His friends on the team expected him to overcome his control issues and carry them to glory. But he was not yet the star others expected him to become. He sometimes wished his friends would brag about him a little less.
April pointed at Jason’s textbook. “Are you getting ready for the bio test?”
“I’m trying,” Jason replied.
“What’s the name of your cheekbone?” she quizzed.
He resisted a grin. “The zygomatic arch.”
April raised her eyebrows. “Not bad.”
Holly rolled her eyes. “You guys are such geeks.”
“Geeks rule the world,” Jason countered.
Holly grabbed her sister. “We better get over to the softball cage.”
Jason wanted to ask them to grab a snack or something. Well, specifically, he wanted to ask April, but asking both of them would be less intimidating. They were two girls; he was with two other guys—it would just be a small group hanging out. There would never be a more perfect moment to casually approach April. Who knew, they might end up with a study date for the biology test.
But he couldn’t make his lips move in time. The twins were walking away.
“Hey,” Jason called, feeling awkward, squeezing his biology book. “Do you guys want to grab some food when you’re done?”
Still moving away, Holly pushed her hair back over her ear as she apologized. “We can’t. We have to go to our uncle’s birthday party. Maybe some other time.”
“Okay, that’s cool,” Jason said, even though nothing about it was remotely cool.
Behind him Tim exited the batting cage. “You like April?” Tim asked.
Jason winced, stealing a glance over his shoulder. Was he that obvious? “Not so loud. A little, I guess.”
“I think Holly seems more fun,” Matt mused.
Tim tossed Jason the batting helmet. “You’re up. Here’s your chance for back-to-back strikeouts.”
“You’re a riot,” Jason said, sliding on the slightly oversized helmet. A red light glowed near the pitching machine. Jason adjusted the strap on his batting glove, grabbed his bat, entered the cage, and took several practice chops, overswinging at first, then settling into his regular stroke.
“You ready?” Matt asked.
“Go for it.”
The light turned green. Jason crouched into his batting stance, bouncing a little, anticipating the first pitch, trying to ignore the possibility that April was watching. He tended to swing late on the first ball. It hissed out of the pitching machine and blurred past him. He swung way too late.
“He’s a lover, not a hitter,” Tim kidded.
Jason focused. The next ball zipped out of the machine. His timing was right, but he swung too low, and the ball skipped up and back off the bat.
On the third pitch he made a solid connection. The ball rocketed to the rear of the cage, a high line drive.
Matt whistled. “Not bad.”
Jason glanced back at his friends, grinning. Shifting his gaze, he noticed that April was watching her sister enter the fast-pitch softball cage. When he turned to face forward, a ball was streaking toward him. Jason twisted his head just in time to prevent it from striking his face, but the hard sphere thumped against the side of his helmet, knocking it off his head and sending him sprawling.
“I’d settle for assault and battery,” Tim grumbled.
On the next pitch Tim crushed a hard ground ball to the left side of the cage. Jason alternated glances between Tim and a labeled image in his biology textbook. He was memorizing the human skeletal system for a test.
“Get your nose out of that book,” Matt murmured to Jason as Tim fouled the next pitch back into the netting.
“I have to head to the zoo after this,” Jason apologized. “I won’t have much time to study today.”
“Trust me,” Matt said, nodding toward their left.
Jason turned his head to find a pair of girls coming toward them. They were April and Holly Knudsen, fraternal twins in his grade at Kennedy Middle School. The girls were not much alike in appearance or interests, especially for twins. Prettier and more studious, April was in three of Jason’s honors classes, including biology. Louder and sportier, Holly held a softball bat in one hand and a batting helmet in the other.
Only two girls at school made Jason feel queasy and self-conscious: Jen Miller and April Knudsen. They were pretty, and smart, and seemed down-to-earth. Jason harbored secret crushes on both of them.
“Hey, guys,” Holly called.
Jason tried to smile. He was suddenly very aware of the textbook in his hands. Would it make him look like a nerd, reading a biology book at the batting cages?
Matt said nothing. He seldom spoke much around girls. Jason tried to make his voice casual. “Hi, Holly. April.”
“Getting ready for your last season before high school ball?” Holly wondered.
Tim whacked a hard fly ball.
“Coach Thayer is already scouting Jason,” Matt said. “He might end up pitching for varsity as a freshman.”
It was true. Jason had hit a growth spurt at the end of sixth grade. His hitting had initially fallen apart as he’d adjusted to his height, while his pitching had started to gain some real speed. He now stood almost six feet tall. His hitting was recuperating, and his fastball was up into the eighties, but his control had suffered.
“Wow, freshmen boys almost never play varsity,” Holly admired. “They almost took state last year.”
“I’m not sure how much I impressed Thayer,” Jason confessed. “My pitches were all over the place.”
“Only one guy on next year’s high school team throws faster than you,” Matt said. “When you throw your best stuff, I can’t hit you.”
“I tense up lately,” Jason admitted with a grimace. Over the past year, during games, he had started to feel very self-conscious, and erratic pitches had been the result. He had blown some games by giving up too many walks, and he’d lost a key game with a wild pitch. He had also hit a few batters, and at the speeds he was throwing, that was a big deal. No opposing batters had been seriously hurt, but they could have been.
At first Jason had assumed the increased speed of his pitches had caused the problem. But then Matt and Tim had begun to notice that he routinely threw better during informal games or practices. It bothered Jason to think that he had lost games because he lacked the guts to throw well under pressure. Maybe the problem came from dwelling on how much others expected from him. Maybe he was expecting too much from himself, fixating on perfection. Or maybe his skills were simply fading.
His friends on the team expected him to overcome his control issues and carry them to glory. But he was not yet the star others expected him to become. He sometimes wished his friends would brag about him a little less.
April pointed at Jason’s textbook. “Are you getting ready for the bio test?”
“I’m trying,” Jason replied.
“What’s the name of your cheekbone?” she quizzed.
He resisted a grin. “The zygomatic arch.”
April raised her eyebrows. “Not bad.”
Holly rolled her eyes. “You guys are such geeks.”
“Geeks rule the world,” Jason countered.
Holly grabbed her sister. “We better get over to the softball cage.”
Jason wanted to ask them to grab a snack or something. Well, specifically, he wanted to ask April, but asking both of them would be less intimidating. They were two girls; he was with two other guys—it would just be a small group hanging out. There would never be a more perfect moment to casually approach April. Who knew, they might end up with a study date for the biology test.
But he couldn’t make his lips move in time. The twins were walking away.
“Hey,” Jason called, feeling awkward, squeezing his biology book. “Do you guys want to grab some food when you’re done?”
Still moving away, Holly pushed her hair back over her ear as she apologized. “We can’t. We have to go to our uncle’s birthday party. Maybe some other time.”
“Okay, that’s cool,” Jason said, even though nothing about it was remotely cool.
Behind him Tim exited the batting cage. “You like April?” Tim asked.
Jason winced, stealing a glance over his shoulder. Was he that obvious? “Not so loud. A little, I guess.”
“I think Holly seems more fun,” Matt mused.
Tim tossed Jason the batting helmet. “You’re up. Here’s your chance for back-to-back strikeouts.”
“You’re a riot,” Jason said, sliding on the slightly oversized helmet. A red light glowed near the pitching machine. Jason adjusted the strap on his batting glove, grabbed his bat, entered the cage, and took several practice chops, overswinging at first, then settling into his regular stroke.
“You ready?” Matt asked.
“Go for it.”
The light turned green. Jason crouched into his batting stance, bouncing a little, anticipating the first pitch, trying to ignore the possibility that April was watching. He tended to swing late on the first ball. It hissed out of the pitching machine and blurred past him. He swung way too late.
“He’s a lover, not a hitter,” Tim kidded.
Jason focused. The next ball zipped out of the machine. His timing was right, but he swung too low, and the ball skipped up and back off the bat.
On the third pitch he made a solid connection. The ball rocketed to the rear of the cage, a high line drive.
Matt whistled. “Not bad.”
Jason glanced back at his friends, grinning. Shifting his gaze, he noticed that April was watching her sister enter the fast-pitch softball cage. When he turned to face forward, a ball was streaking toward him. Jason twisted his head just in time to prevent it from striking his face, but the hard sphere thumped against the side of his helmet, knocking it off his head and sending him sprawling.
