Left Field Love
: Chapter 10

I hate gym.

“Choke up on the bat, Lennon! We’re not fishing here, straighten up!”

I would love to yell at whoever came up with Landry High’s requirement that students have to score a run to pass the baseball unit of twelfth grade gym class.

“I’m holding the grippy part of the stick,” I reply.

Our physical education teacher, Mr. Evans, gives me an encouraging look before tossing the baseball at me once more. I miss, again.

“Okay, give someone else a turn. We’ll try again next week.”

“Wait a minute.”

I freeze when I hear his voice. Tense when I hear the whispers from everyone watching my humiliating attempts to hit a baseball.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” I hiss at Caleb as he appears beside me.

“Helping you pass gym. I’ve gotten the sense grades are kind of important to you.”

“I don’t need your help.” Or the scrutiny.

Caleb Winters is not the guy who offers his help freely. As evidenced by the undivided attention from our previously disinterested classmates that feels like a spotlight. He’s the guy who’s untouchable. Unbothered by the problems of mere mortals. Hot and rich and popular, with the whole world within his reach.

I’ve avoided him ever since the accidental sleepover, and was finally making some headway in fading back to normalcy.

With three words, Caleb eradicated that progress.

“I’ve got about thirty witnesses who would say differently,” Caleb replies. “Stop being stubborn. I’m good at baseball, okay?”

I can’t help the small smile that forms in response to his massive understatement. “Fine,” I agree.

Aside from the unwelcome attention, it’s not like I have anything to lose.

At least I didn’t think I did, until Caleb steps behind me, close enough I can feel his body heat. Until he grasps my elbows and readjusts my stance.

I’m grateful my long sleeves hide the goosebumps appearing on my skin. I’m struggling to keep my breathing even, but Caleb doesn’t seem the least bit affected by my proximity.

“You’re holding the bat all wrong,” he informs me. “Move your hand a little down here.” His instructions are unnecessary, since he shifts my grip himself. Ripples of heat race through me, relentless and confusing. “Okay, angle it a bit more, lean forward, and…yeah, right there. Just swing at the ball, okay?”

“I know that much, Winters.”

“I wasn’t sure, after your eleven strikes,” Caleb retorts.

I’d love to roll my eyes at him, but I can’t turn to look at him without messing up what I hope is a gym-passing posture.

“Okay, one last try,” Mr. Evans states.

He’s not looking at me. He’s looking at Caleb, just as confused by him helping me as the rest of the class undoubtedly is.

Mr. Evans tosses the baseball again, a slow, easy toss that I would knock out of the park if this were a movie. But this is my actual life, so I only manage to graze the edge of the ball, sending it skittering harmlessly in the direction of the dugout. Not exactly the home run I was hoping for.

“Progress,” Mr. Evans congratulates, since the bar was low. “We can try again Monday. We’ll get you there by the end of the unit, Matthews.”

I nod, distracted by the unfamiliar emotion overshadowing my annoyance with the stupid requirement. I didn’t think there was anyone in Landry whose opinion I cared about, besides Gramps’s.

Turns out there might be.

And he tried to help me, which makes me feel worse. I’m worried I let Caleb down somehow, which is a ridiculous, inconvenient thing to feel. I know it is. But that knowledge doesn’t allow me to shake it.

Two more students take their turns at bat, and then class ends.

“Let’s head in, folks!” Mr. Evans calls out after Lucy Howarth manages a single. “Only five minutes before the bell. Halloway, Josephs, grab the equipment, please.”

I scrape my hair together, twist it, and snap an elastic around the bun in a lazy attempt to keep the strands from blowing around in my face as I trudge back toward the brick building to change.

“You swung too late.”

I’m still grappling with the uncomfortable aftermath of shame, and in no mood to talk to the boy who incited the emotion. “Really? I thought it was my grip on the bat.”

“At least you’ve learned it’s called a bat, not a stick,” Caleb replies.

“I always knew that,” I grumble. “Gramps watches a lot of baseball.”

“You’re not going to magically improve by Monday, you know.”

“Obviously I know that, or else I would have already passed the stupid requirement.”

“You’re right,” Caleb agrees easily. “It is a stupid requirement.”

I eye him suspiciously, curious why he’s agreeing with me when ordinarily he’s willing to argue about anything. “A stupid requirement? I thought having everyone else forced to play the sport you worship would be your first choice for a gym requirement.”

“I thought so too. Until I had to watch you butcher a simple swing for twenty minutes.”

And…there’s the catch. “It was not twenty minutes.”

“Ten, at least.”

I scoff, but that’s probably accurate.

“There’s not much I could do for one swing, but regardless of how uncoordinated you are, anyone can hit the ball once,” he tells me. “Especially if they’ve got a good teacher.”

“I’ll let Mr. Evans know,” I state dryly.

Caleb sniggers. “I’m offering to help you hit a baseball, Lennon.”

“You’re what?” We’ve almost reached the gym entrance. I stop too soon, caught completely off guard.

“I’m offering to help you,” Caleb repeats, pausing as well.

“But…why?” Disbelief drips from my voice.

“Because you need help.”

I scowl. “You’re messing with me.”

“No, I’m not.”

“Why would you help me?”

“Because you suck at baseball, and I’m good at baseball.” Caleb enunciates each word, as though I’m unaware of the reality of our respective skills when it comes to the sport and need it explained to me.

“That didn’t answer my question. Why would help me, and get nothing in exchange?”

“What did I get out of mucking out stalls with you?” I don’t answer; he keeps talking. “Do you want my help, Lennon? Yes or no.”

“Yes.”

“Okay. I’ll text you later.” Caleb heads inside the gym, leaving me standing confused and alone.

Wondering what the hell I’ve just agreed to.

I finally follow him inside, taking my time changing out of my gym clothes. Having gym last period is the only upside to having gym at all.

I leave the locker room and head back toward the main building of the high school. I forgot to grab my history book earlier, and I need it to complete a worksheet due tomorrow.

The halls are bustling with activity, everyone buoyed by the sense of freedom that the final bell provides. Caleb is standing at the end of the hall, talking with a group that includes some of his baseball teammates. Madison and a couple of her friends are also included. I avert my gaze as I pass them and continue to my locker.

“You free tonight?”

I grab my History book and shut the locker door. Ryan is standing in front of me, one corner of his mouth turned up as he studies me. The genuine interest on his face unsettles me. He hasn’t spoken to me since his last visit to my locker, and I was hoping it was a one-time thing. “No.”

“Tomorrow night?”

I sigh. “Ryan, I told you it’s not going to happen.”

He tilts his head. “You know, you’re the last girl I thought would go for Winters. I thought you hated all the elitist bullshit.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“You’re not into Winters?”

“Ryan. We never dated. We’re not friends. I don’t know why you’d—”

Ryan looks past me. “Hey, Winters.”

“James.”

I straighten, automatically, as soon as I hear Caleb’s voice.

Ryan glances at me. “Guess that’s my answer. See you later, Lennon.”

“What was that about?” Caleb asks, as soon as Ryan is gone.

I shove the History textbook in my backpack before meeting his gaze. “He asked me out.”

“What did you say?” The words are flat, like he’s purposefully hiding any inflection.

“No.” I fiddle with the strap of my backpack. “What do you want? Change your mind about helping me already?”

I make the mistake of looking past Caleb after asking that question. Everyone he was standing with earlier is staring at us.

“I didn’t change my mind.”

“So…what’s up?”

“I wanted to give you this.” Caleb hands me a few sheets of paper, stapled together neatly.

“What is it?” I ask as I take the packet from him.

“Our English outline. I included everything we discussed during our sleepover.”

I cast him a look for that reminder, but my irritation fades after I flip through the first couple of pages. It’s more than an outline. He’s basically written our entire paper in bullet point format. “You didn’t have to do all this, Caleb.”

He shrugs. “It didn’t take me long.”

I’m pretty sure that’s a lie, but I’m distracted by Madison walking past with a couple of friends. She sends me a spiteful look even more venomous than usual. I’m guessing it has a lot to do with the guy who’s standing a foot away from me.

Caleb follows my gaze. “We used to be friends, you know,” I tell him, for some unknown reason.

He looks at me with surprise. “You and Madison?”

I let out a short laugh. “Yeah. Best friends, actually. Her thirteenth birthday was just a couple days before my dad…died. It was a pool party. I got her a sparkly headband.”

“What happened?” Caleb asks quietly.

“Life. High school.” I shrug. “She cares what people think. I’ve never had that luxury.”

“What do you mean?”

“People judge me for things I have no control over. Nothing I can do about it. Maybe it was just bad timing, but I think high school has a funny way of turning friends into foes no matter what.”

“Yeah, maybe you’re right,” Caleb says softly.

“I’ve got to get home,” I tell him. “I’ll see you…later?”

Caleb nods. He said he would text me about batting lessons, but I don’t know if he actually will. Don’t know if I really want him to. It will only confuse everything more.

I start down the crowded hall, feeling his eyes on me the whole way.

I’m sorely tempted to turn around.

But I don’t.