Spring Perfection by Leslie DuBois Read Free Book Online Page B

has made me a better
and deeper person. But sometimes I am not sure.
    Now is a good example.
    What am I doing here? This is just an exhibition game. It really
means nothing in the long run.
    I throw a strike. The batter doesn't even swing. He expected me to
throw high and away like the last time he was at bat. But this is why I am so
good. I have so many pitches in my artillery, they never know what to expect
from me. I have an awesome slider, curve ball and even a knuckle ball. And
don't get me started on my fastball. I've already broken the high school record
for fastest pitch ever thrown.
    I retire the first batter then look out into the crowd. I
carefully avoid my mother's eyes. I don't know what to expect from her. Yes,
I'm winning the game, but sometimes winning isn't enough for that woman. I know
she wants this perfect game. It's not like I will get a trophy or anything for
it for her to add to my side of the trophy room at home. Although, I could
totally imagine her going to a trophy store just to create one for me.
    My mother wants this so bad because of the publicity it will
bring. I know she thinks that it will help me get signed with a team. But I'm
only a junior in high school. There is no telling what can happen between now
and when I graduate. And what if I get injured or something? One stinking ACL tear and my career is probably over. I shiver at the thought.
I don't know what I'd do with myself if I wasn't able to play sports. I love
sports, but always having to win is starting to wear me down like tires on a
race car.   It's too much pressure.
Besides, I want to go to college anyway first before jumping into professional
sports.
    Instead of looking at my mother I look in the stands at Kimberley
Mierson, my current girlfriend. Why isn't Reyna my girlfriend? I'm not sure.
Maybe I'm too afraid to lose her friendship. Or maybe I'm just plain afraid.
    The rest of the inning is a blur. I throw six strikes so fast that
my arm gets a little sore. I know better than to rub my shoulder in public
though. Besides it being bad luck, my mother would be in the dugout before I
could say 'Bengay' making sure I was okay and demanding that the trainer give
me something so that my performance doesn't suffer.
    Instead of massaging my shoulder I plopped down in my seat,
crossed my arms and closed my eyes. Then I thought about La Cienega's smile.

 
 
 

La
Cienega's Smile

 
    Weeks after that first encounter in English class. We sat together
on the Merry-Go-Round in the play ground.

 
    "I dare you to kiss me?" Reyna said suddenly.
    "What?" I said nearly choking on my Tofu turkey wrap. I
wasn't a vegetarian or anything, but Reyna was. And there was just something
about her that made me want to be wherever she was and do whatever she did.
That included eating this disgusting concoction.
      "I said I dare you to
kiss me."
      "I heard you, but …
but, why?" I really couldn't believe what I was hearing. Did she really
want to kiss me?
      Reyna drew in a breath and
made her cheeks big like a blowfish. She always did that when she needed to
think. She held her breath for several seconds, then let it out as she said,
"According to my sources, we're the only two sixth graders who haven't had
a first kiss. Most everyone in our class has gone beyond kissing."
      I stared at her completely
confused. I remember totally not understanding what she meant by 'beyond
kissing', but I knew I wanted to try it. And I wanted to try it with her.
      "I mean, I know you
would rather kiss Amanda Stratfield, but I figure you can practice on me. That
way when you finally kiss Amanda, you'll be really good at it."
      I didn't really want to
kiss Amanda Stratfield. She was actually kind of annoying the way she always
asked me stupid questions about baseball just so she could have an excuse to
talk to me. I mean, really, she doesn't know what a sacrifice fly is. Reyna
does. She would never ask me that.
      "Um ... " I managed to say. I couldn't