Thwack !: A Short Story Of Softball

Decent Essays
Thwack! Thwack! Thwack!
Each softball I hurled at the wall slapped the ‘X’ that I had carefully drawn in chalk. It wasn’t ideal, but official practice had ended a while ago--all the other players long gone, and the gate to the field locked. I needed all the extra practice I could get. Testing was in only a month. The last couple of years, I had made starting pitcher pretty easily, even beating out some of the older kids. But this year…
I jumped and spun around, the ball I was about to throw dropping to the ground. Standing behind me was Zoe, number 4, catcher, and best friend in the world--except when she seemed annoyed. Like now.
“Why are you still here?” I cowered and tried to get away, but she grabbed the back of my shirt and dragged
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“Even if you really want the position, overworking yourself is going to get you nowhere. It’s been more than two hours since practice ended. Go home.” With that, Zoe turned on her heel and strode out.
Me, I just watched her, dumbfounded. Then I looked between my bag, the softball on the ground, and the white ‘X’ on the wall, until I finally picked up the softball and started throwing it again.

Five hours later, at home, I still couldn’t get the innocent smile and light voice that belonged to Rachel Green out of my head. She was the one person who could jeopardize all the work I had put into softball the last half-decade.
Ten years old (three years younger than me), brand-new to the league, and considered a softball genius--the most important detail about Rachel was that she was also a contender for starting pitcher. I hated it--I had worked relentlessly for every scrap of talent I could get, and here was someone who had it naturally. But I had discovered, if you really want something, you just have to work harder than everyone else to get it.
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