PLAY BALL!

This story was published in the Spring issue of Images in June, 1987, which was printed and published at Monmouth Regional High School.
"Heey... Kid! You can do it!"
I slowly stepped up to the plate. The bat rested gently on my trembling shoulder. The entire crowd stared intently, silent with fear. The pressure was on.
I calmly reminded myself that it was only a game. I was always playing games. Once, she had let me cheat at Monopoly. She was special, somehow.
Sharp and quick, the third-base coach clapped and gave me the signal. The signal. It had been a strange and unexplainable signal. I saw her, and I simply knew she was special. When you're born, you have certain instincts. I always followed my instincts. They were never right.
"C'mon now! Knock it over the bleachers, Kid!" I glanced at the runner at first. He was a good friend. He supported me. So did she. She was wonderful. She was like a piece of me. Whenever I did a jigsaw puzzle, it would always feel so wonderful when I found that last piece on the floor. Then I would get out a board game. I was always playing games.
I glanced at the scoreboard. Ten to nine. I chuckled. That was also the time I was born: ten to nine. Or... so they told me. I guess I just have to trust them. That's supposed to be an important part of a relationship: trust. We had it. I always knew she was telling me the truth. And, I was honest with her in every way. Well, almost...
"Steerike One!" I made a mistake. Just one little error. One mistake is acceptable, isn't it? But, she avoided me after that. I could tell, and the pain was unbearable. I'm the type who can't stand it when someone scratches the chalkboard. When they find out, they start doing it a lot. People like to hurt you.
Crack! The ball whizzed behind me and crashed against the screen. "Alright, Kid! You got a piece of it. Go for it now, eh?" I tried. I really did. I sent her notes. I bought her flowers. Through friends, I made sure she knew I still cared. Then, all I could do was wait. I got all romantic because of my instincts. My stupid instincts.
I was always playing games. I was at the arcade when she walked in... with Dave Carson. Swing... "Strike three!"
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