I jogged across the field to the dugout. Tears brimmed, but I refused to let them fall. Not here. Not in front of Coach or my teammates.

Sweat dripped down my forehead. I swiped it with the back of my wrist, smearing the dust that had settled on my body from the extra planks, sit-ups, and sprints I had to do in the dirt. A dull ache had begun to settle in my shoulder. It was going to be another ice-and heat-night when I got home.

Would I ever have a humiliation-free day in my life again?

Our catcher, Summer, cinched her equipment bag as I passed behind her. I could feel her eyes on me as I threw my glove into my own bag and slid in my bat. My body was already heated from practice, but my cheeks were on fire, knowing Summer heard Coach chew my butt. Again.

Summer’s cleats clacked against the concrete as she stepped toward me and said in a low voice, “You’re a great pitcher, Tommie. You’ve got this.”

I glanced at her T-shirt and nodded. She was wrong. If I had it together, I wouldn’t have just spent the last quarter of practice in purgatory. Playoffs were around the corner. I tried to focus, get my pitches under control, be consistent, but I failed. It had been tough since prom. And some of these girls wouldn’t let me live that night down.

After she left the dugout, I slipped the strap of my bag over my non-pitching shoulder and trekked through the thick air. Did everyone hear Coach yelling at me? At least I didn’t cry.

I spotted Cayla, my best friend, kicked back against the spare tire of her Jeep, waiting for me. She stared down at her phone while her thumbs flew over the screen, typing. The gravel of the parking lot crunched under my shoes. She glanced up and let out a yawn. 

“Up too late last night?” I asked as I approached.

Cayla gave me a look. “You know I’m not a morning person.”

Most of the team hated morning practice. They were not as alert, which meant the trash talk about my prom incident was less likely to be brought up. That’s why it had become my favorite time to practice.

I tried to smile, but I couldn’t make it happen.

“So Coach tore you a new one?” she asked.

I reached down to untie my cleats, slipped them off, and shoved them in my bag before tossing it in the back of the vehicle. “Yeah. Did you hear?”

She shook her head. “Only the beginning.” We traveled to opposite sides, climbing in. She turned the key and eased us forward through the lot. Besides the coaches, we were the last ones to leave.

“Anyone else hear?” I draped my arm along the edge of the open window. The breeze blowing in cooled my cheeks.  

She shook her head and said, “I think everyone was ready to get out of here before they got called out. It was a rough practice for everyone.”

I sank into my seat and closed my eyes for a minute. “Not exactly what I hoped senior year would be like.” One day I would get past all the drama. I hoped it would be sooner rather than later.

“I think you pitched the best you have since… you know.” She gave me a long look before turning out of the lot.

“Since prom. You can say it.” On the other hand, maybe I should reconsider living at home and going to community college. If I go to a bigger school, no one will even know who I am. No one would remember my compromised lips plastered on the big screen.

“You said it. Does that mean you’re ready to move past it?” she asked.

“Exactly.” I let my head fall back against the headrest. “I’ve wanted to move past it since it happened. But the video keeps showing up and the team won’t let me forget.”

“It’s not ‘the team.’ Only a few. I haven’t given you a hard time. Neither has Jenna nor Summer.”

Strands of Cayla’s russet brown hair whipped around her face from her ponytail. I reached over and nudged her shoulder, giving her a grateful smile. “I know.”  I was thankful for their friendship.

She grinned and turned onto my street. “I have a great idea. Let’s drive over to Roan’s tournament today.”

I tilted my head and stared at her. Roan and I had been best buddies since he moved in the big house on the cul-de-sac of my street ten years ago. He knew everything about me, including why I hadn’t been to his games lately.

She glanced over and asked, “What? You haven’t watched him play in two weeks. Who will tell him what he’s doing wrong if you’re not there?”

“Don’t you have to work for your dad?” I asked.

She shook her head. “Not if I go to the game. Please.”

“First of all,” I said. “I can barely face people at school, let alone James and the rest of the baseball team. Second of all, Roan has two coaches who are more than capable of telling him what he’s doing wrong.”

She snickered. “Yeah, but you do it so well. And he asked if you were coming today.”

“He totally understands why I’m not coming,” I said. Even if he told me I was being a baby, and I needed to quit hiding.

“Come on. Face your fears.” Cayla slowed, turning into my driveway to park. “I don’t like going without you.”

I took in a deep breath and blew it out through my teeth in a whoosh. “I know, I know. Maybe next week, okay?”

“Promise?” she asked and gripped the steering wheel as she waited for my answer.

I held back a sigh. If I promised, it would just be a lie. I opened the door. A hint of gardenias hung in the air. I breathed them in and gave her the answer she didn’t want to hear. “I’ll try.” My feet hit the concrete and heat soaked through my socks. I caught her giant eye roll when I shut the door. 

Cayla may have been shy, but she didn’t have a problem with guys wanting to be more than a friend. I circled around the back. Prom ruined any chance of a boy ever asking me out.