It’s Mrs. Humphrey.
“What are you doing?” she asks, tilting her head.
I can feel the redness of my face. “I uh—I forgot my phone.” I slide it out of my pocket. “But I got it now.” I tap it against my chin, not wanting to make eye contact to see if she believes me or not. “Did you find Ms. Simon?”
“No, I made it halfway there when I realized I left my key.”
She passes me to grab the red lanyard on her desk. “I meant to lock the door since my purse is still in here.”
I nod, but I stuff my hands in my pockets to hide how much I’m shaking. “That makes sense.”
There’s no chance of getting a copy of the answers today. Not when she’s probably already suspicious about finding me in her room.
As I watch her lock the door behind us, I feel my chance of playing baseball slipping through my fingers. Now, I only have one more day to figure out how to get Mallory the test answers.
I stand across from Sam, practicing pitching.
Sam throws the ball and I bend my knees, leaning tocatch it in my glove. It hits the leather and I catch it like it’s automatic. I grab the ball and stand tall, raising my leg and winding up to throw it back. It flies through the air, way too high.
He reaches up, but the ball speeds past him, rattling off the metal fence. “Man, what was that?”
Heat rises to my face, and I hope the rest of the team didn’t notice how bad my throw was. I don’t usually miss, but for some reason I can’t seem to focus.
“Sorry, the ball slipped,” I say, fixing my stance to get ready to catch it when he sends it back my way. “I’m ready.”
Sam raises a brow. “You sure?”
Out of the corner of my eye I spot Coach in his navy cap and blue pullover sweatshirt that’s slightly too tight. He’s watching me with stiff posture.
I hold my glove up and nod at Sam.
He pulls his arm back and throws the ball. It comes quick, whipping through the air and straight toward me.
It’s supposed to land dead center into my glove, and yet on impact, the ball bounces out of my grip and onto the ground.
“Green, a word!” Coach yells.
I suck in a breath and bite my lip. I can’t afford to be making mistakes because it’s the first game of the season. I slam my fist into my glove, kicking myself for messing up right in front of Coach.
My head hangs low as I jog up to him.
“Green, what’s going on?” His hands are on his hips, and his square shoulders face me. He's a tall, large man who reminds me of a steel wall, towering over me and casting a shadow over my face.
“Nothing’s going on.”
“Then are you going to tell me why my starting pitcher is acting like he’s never held a baseball before?”
I can’t meet his gaze. It’s too strong. Too heavy. “I’m sorry, Coach. I’ve had a long day.” My face is scuffed and my body is bruised from Emma, not to mention how mentally exhausted I am from talking to her.
He rests his hand on my shoulder. “Listen, kid. I know how important this game is for you, but if you can’t perform, I’ll have no choice but to let Lukas start on Friday.”
“I can do it,” I say. I’ve worked so hard to be on the team again, and I refuse to blow this opportunity.
“Then show me.”
“Yessir.”
He pats my shoulder. “Get back out there.”
