A World Without Heroes - Brandon Mull [4]
“Hey, guys,” Holly called.
Jason tried to smile. He was suddenly very aware of the textbook in his hands. Would it make him look like a nerd, reading a biology book at the batting cages?
Matt said nothing. He seldom spoke much around girls. Jason tried to make his voice casual. “Hi, Holly. April.”
“Getting ready for your last season before high school ball?” Holly wondered.
Tim whacked a hard fly ball.
“Coach Thayer is already scouting Jason,” Matt said. “He might end up pitching for varsity as a freshman.”
It was true. Jason had hit a growth spurt at the end of sixth grade. His hitting had initially fallen apart as he’d adjusted to his height, while his pitching had started to gain some real speed. He now stood almost six feet tall. His hitting was recuperating, and his fastball was up into the eighties, but his control had suffered.
“Wow, freshmen boys almost never play varsity,” Holly admired. “They almost took state last year.”
“I’m not sure how much I impressed Thayer,” Jason confessed. “My pitches were all over the place.”
“Only one guy on next year’s high school team throws faster than you,” Matt said. “When you throw your best stuff, I can’t hit you.”
“I tense up lately,” Jason admitted with a grimace. Over the past year, during games, he had started to feel very self-conscious, and erratic pitches had been the result. He had blown some games by giving up too many walks, and he’d lost a key game with a wild pitch. He had also hit a few batters, and at the speeds he was throwing, that was a big deal. No opposing batters had been seriously hurt, but they could have been.
At first Jason had assumed the increased speed of his pitches had caused the problem. But then Matt and Tim had begun to notice that he routinely threw better during informal games or practices. It bothered Jason to think that he had lost games because he lacked the guts to throw well under pressure. Maybe the problem came from dwelling on how much others expected from him. Maybe he was expecting too much from himself, fixating on perfection. Or maybe his skills were simply fading.
His friends on the team expected him to overcome his control issues and carry them to glory. But he was not yet the star others expected him to become. He sometimes wished his friends would brag about him a little less.
April pointed at Jason’s textbook. “Are you getting ready for the bio test?”
“I’m trying,” Jason replied.
“What’s the name of your cheekbone?” she quizzed.
He resisted a grin. “The zygomatic arch.”
April raised her eyebrows. “Not bad.”
Holly rolled her eyes. “You guys are such geeks.”
“Geeks rule the world,” Jason countered.
Holly grabbed her sister. “We better get over to the softball cage.”
Jason wanted to ask them to grab a snack or something. Well, specifically, he wanted to ask April, but asking both of them would be less intimidating. They were two girls; he was with two other guys—it would just be a small group hanging out. There would never be a more perfect moment to casually approach April. Who knew, they might end up with a study date for the biology test.
But he couldn’t make his lips move in time. The twins were walking away.
“Hey,” Jason called, feeling awkward, squeezing his biology book. “Do you guys want to grab some food when you’re done?”
Still moving away, Holly pushed her hair back over her ear as she apologized. “We can’t. We have to go to our uncle’s birthday party. Maybe some other time.”
“Okay, that’s cool,” Jason said, even though nothing about it was remotely cool.
Behind him Tim exited the batting cage. “You like April?” Tim asked.
Jason winced, stealing a glance over his shoulder. Was he that obvious? “Not so loud. A little, I guess.”
“I think Holly seems more fun,” Matt mused.
Tim tossed Jason the batting helmet. “You’re up. Here’s your chance for back-to-back strikeouts.”
“You’re a riot,” Jason said, sliding on the slightly oversized helmet. A red light glowed near the pitching machine. Jason adjusted