Katya is on second base while Rakhee, who mentions she has pretty good throwing skills, is elected as a deep fielder. The others on our team decide among themselves who’s taking the other positions, and then we all put our hands in the middle and, on Katya’s instruction, cry out in chorus, “WINNERS!”
As our huddle disperses and the other team begins to line up at the batting jumper, I hunt down the tennis ball that we use instead of a rounders one—since the park is always fairly busy, a softer ball is deemed more appropriate should a stray one be sent careening in the direction of an oblivious family enjoying a picnic nearby.
I do a few practice throws with the backstop before Mimi steps up to bat first.
“Ready, birthday girl?” I ask with a grin.
“Born ready,” she replies, holding up the bat.
The game begins, Mimi scoring half a rounder on her first hit. I always forget how fun rounders is until I’m playing it in a London park on a sunny day. The competitive spirit is running high, the batters yelling instructions at each other about when to run to the next post, while cheering each other on after a great hit. The fielding team is just as enthusiastic, their shouting and screaming gathering interest from passersby who look in our direction and smile.
By the time it’s Ryan’s turn to bat, there’s been a real mix of ability on his team and no one has managed to score a full rounder on their own. Mimi claps him on the back as he bends down to pick up the bat from where the last teammate dropped it as they ran to the first post.
“You’ve got this, Ryan,” she says. “Don’t let Harper bait you and put you off your game.”
“Hey!” I cry out, tossing the tennis ball from hand to hand. “You really think I’d stoop so low as to bait someone right before they bat?”
“I wouldn’t put anything past you, Harper Jenkins,” Ryan declares as he strolls toward the batting jumper.
Flicking my hair back behind my shoulder, I wait for him to position himself and then, with full concentration, I bowl the ball. There’s a loud crack as the bat makes forceful contact, sending the ball soaring overhead, way out beyond third base. Dropping the bat to an eruption of cheers from his team, Ryan starts sprinting.
“Come on, Rakhee!” I shout encouragingly as she races toward the tennis ball and then, finding it, throws it with all her might back toward us as Ryan clears second and heads to third. Katya jumps into the air to catch the ball, before spinning and lobbing it to our teammate on fourth base, but Ryan has alreadyswept past into the arms of his team, who congratulate him ecstatically.
“Damn it,” I mutter under my breath, catching the tennis ball as it’s thrown back to me for the next batter. I was really hoping he wouldn’t be good at this.
“You lot were so cocky with your ‘winners’ chant!” Mimi announces, picking up the bat and doing a victory dance on the spot. “But we’re going to be difficult to beat! Our points are ticking up and no one is out.”
“Yet,” Katya yells from behind me.
Tearing my eyes from Ryan, who is still receiving high-fives from his teammates, I prepare to bowl to Mimi. She hits it straight up in the air and I run forward, catching it as it falls right into my outstretched hands.
“Noooooo!” Mimi cries, burying her head in her hands, as it becomes my team’s turn to cheer.
Katya runs over to lift me up in celebration, before plonking me down and saying to Mimi, “You tempted fate, babe! Rookie error!”
As the game continues, their team gradually begins to deplete until Ryan is the last man standing.
“Okay everyone,” I say, turning to address the fielders. “Whatever happens, we can’t let him get all the way round. If he gets a rounder, he can keep batting, but if we stop him from reaching that fourth post, then his team is out. Look alert, people!”
“Let’s do this!” Katya shouts, clapping her hands above her head.
Accepting words of encouragement from his team, who are standing around the table, drinking and crunching on crisps, Ryan acknowledges that it’s getting serious and peels off his over-shirt to wolf whistles. In his T-shirt, he rolls his arms back and forth.
I try not to be distracted by his muscled arms, now on show,as he picks up the bat and tosses it in the air so it spins, like a drummer showing off with a drumstick. It takes a lot of self-control not to stare at his bicep when it flexes as he catches the grip of the bat.
His blue eyes flash at me.
“Ready when you are, Harper,” he says, a hint of a smile appearing.
Swallowing the lump in my throat, I take a step forward and bowl a terrible ball that goes right over his head.
“No ball!” Mimi calls out.
As the backstop chucks it back to me, I catch Ryan tilting his head at me curiously.
“Something put you off your game, Harper?”
“I was merely luring you into a false sense of security.”
