The hand clutching my pencil sweats. I’ve written my name. That’s it. My head falls forward. I failed. Again. This is who I was meant to be.

“Beth,” says Mrs. Hayes. She walks back to my seat after everyone else turns in their tests and leaves. “Are you okay?”

“No.” I’m a whore and I’m stupid. I snatch my backpack and leave the blank test on my desk. “I am not okay.”

I burst out of class. Groveton is a mistake.

I’m a mistake. Ryan lied to me. He used me. I HC TITLE-AUTHOR

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was a dare. I’m nothing more than a stupid whore who makes mistake after mistake after mistake. Just like my mom.

People laugh as I pass. They’re judging me and their judgment is spot-on. I don’t belong here. I never have. I can’t go to lunch and I can’t handle the thought of gym. I don’t want to listen to Ryan lie so he can make himself feel better, to Gwen’s laughter because I’m the trash she wants me to be, or to Lacy’s pleas to talk to her.

Ryan rounds the corner and I duck into the hallway where I saw Isaiah on my first day of school. God, I’ve fucked everything up. I lost my best friend because I fell in love with a stupid jock who doesn’t love me back. My

fingers tunnel into my hair and I pull hard to cause pain. Stupid, stupid, stupid me.

Why couldn’t I do one thing right in my

life? If I’d left with my mother weeks ago, none of this would have ever happened.

I stop breathing. I can still go. I packed my remaining money and a change of clothes in my bag last week. The backpack weighs me

down. The books I can ditch in my locker. The other items that I kept as reminders can also be HC TITLE-AUTHOR

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left, but not here. I know exactly where I can unload them on my way out of town.

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Ryan

SMACK. THE BALL COLLIDES with my glove.

Bottom of the sixth and the game is tied. I wiggle the fingers of my throwing hand to keep them from becoming stiff from the cold.

Late October and it’s the coldest day of the year. Cold-weather games bring strange

sensations. The wind burns my cheeks and

fingers, but sweat forms from the heat trapped beneath the mock turtleneck of my uniform.

“Let’s go, Ryan!” Dad calls from the stands.

Playing the perfect wife and mother, Mom sits right beside him with a fleece blanket covering her legs. My eyes scan the bleachers again.

Beth’s not here and she won’t be showing.

A high-pitched whistle originates from home plate. The new batter is taking his time for the third pitch in what I assume is an attempt to freeze me out. Logan steps to the left of the HC TITLE-AUTHOR

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batter’s box and motions for me to throw.

He wants me to keep moving so my muscles

will stay warm. I’m distracted and have

pitched the shittiest game of my life. My arm winds back, releases, and I curse when the ball flies two feet to the left of Logan’s glove.

Logan pulls the catcher’s mask to the top of his head and walks toward the mound.

“We’ll find her,” Chris says as he

approaches me from the right. “Lacy’s already looking for her and after the game me, you, and Logan will do whatever we have to do to get her to listen.”

Beth skipped class. I should have gone after her then, but Coach would have kept me from playing. “I can’t focus.”

“Yeah, you can,” says Chris. “You have ice water in your veins when you pitch. Go to that place and you’ll be fine.”

How do I explain that I never had ice water in my veins when I pitch? That there is a constant burning pressure that threatens to destroy my pitch even when I’m not distracted.

“Your pitch,” Logan starts when he reaches the mound, “is everywhere. Rein it in and you’ll get to her faster.”

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He’s right. I will. Chris swears under his breath and I follow his troubled gaze to the first baseline fence. Lacy stands on the

opposite side with Beth’s pack dangling from her shoulder.

Logan gets in my face. “One pitch. One

more pitch.”

“We’ve got another inning,” Chris protests.

Logan throws him a glare. “One pitch.”

They return to their spots and the batter digs his cleats into the dirt. This one’s for Beth.

Logan flashes two peace signs in a row. I nod, glance over my left shoulder, and spot a

shadow of movement. Crossing my right arm over my left, I throw the ball to the first baseman, and hear the sweet word come out of the ump’s mouth: “Out!”

The crowd cheers and I run off the field, into the dugout, and out to the other side. Lacy’s eyes are wide with panic and she extends

Beth’s backpack to me. “I don’t know what it means.”

I tear the pack open as Lacy continues to talk. “I drove by her house, but no one was there. Then I drove around town and came up with nothing. So I went home, hoping that HC TITLE-AUTHOR

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maybe she dropped by or called the

landline, and I found this.”

The pressure that always threatens me

explodes and I toss the pack to the ground. My hand clutches the bottle of rainwater with the ribbons tied to it. I suck in a breath before unfolding the note tucked into the ribbons: I thought I could, but I can’t.

Dammit. Her mom. She’s gone after her

mom and Beth has had enough time to find a way into Louisville by now. I race back into the dugout and grab my bat bag.

“Ryan?” Coach calls from the other end of the dugout.

“I’m sorry. I’ve got an emergency. Put Will in for me.”

I slip the bottle of water into my bag and toss it over my shoulder. Chris wraps a solid hand around my arm. “Where are you going?

We have one more inning and the game is tied.

Will can’t hold these batters like you can.”

“Beth’s running away. If I don’t stop her, I’ll lose her.”

Chris tightens his grip. “You promised me you’d never walk from another game.”

The ice water Chris prayed for finally enters HC TITLE-AUTHOR

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my veins. “Let me go before I physically

remove your hand from my arm.”

“You’re choosing her over us?”

Logan angles himself between me and Chris.

“Let him go, Chris. He’d never dog you if you chose Lacy over a game.”

“That’s different,” yells Chris. “I love Lacy.”

“Take a look at him.” Logan gestures to me.

“He’s in love with Beth. You and Lacy don’t own the emotion.”

Chris eyes me and I see the war inside him.

He yanks the hat off his head and turns from me. I’m letting him down, but I let Beth down first. Logan nods at me and I give him a quick nod of thanks back.

The crowd buzzes with conversation as I

exit the dugout. I keep my head down and

ignore how people stare and even the

occasional shout. The perfect Stone is doing a very imperfect thing and I don’t give a damn what anyone thinks about it. I hear loud

thumping footfalls striking the metal bleachers.

If I’m lucky, I can hightail it to my Jeep before Dad reaches the parking lot.

Like the rest of today, I’m not lucky.

“Ryan!”

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I don’t have time for this. I open the

Jeep’s door and toss my bag in the back. Dad grabs hold of the door. “What are you doing?

You have another inning to play and the game is tied.”

“Beth’s in trouble and I’m going after her.”

“No, you’re not. You’re going to finish that game.” Dad’s face reddens and he places his hand on his hips. In twenty-five years, I’ll be his clone if I continue on my current path. My entire life I desired nothing more than to be him. It’s funny how life changes.

“If I don’t go after her, she’ll be gone.”

“Let her go. She needs to be gone. Since she entered your life you’ve lost focus on

everything that’s important. You’re letting down your team, Ryan. You are single-handedly destroying your career in baseball.