Dirty Curve

by Meagan Brandy

I’m about to instruct her on how to stand when she does it on her own, lining her feet up with the plate, her stance even with the width of her shoulders, bat raised high in the air. Okay, so she’s shown no interest in what I do, but has good form? Hmm ... I cock my head, but the girl simply stares me down, clearly aware I’ve got questions, but not wanting to divulge, so I show her the ball, letting her know it’s coming and lightly toss it to her. Meyer stands to her full height—all five foot something of it—and again, cocks that hip out. “What?” My shoulders rise innocently. “You have me standing here with a bat, the least you could do is give me something to hit.” “Okay, hotshot,” I tease. “You want some heat?” Her face flushes slightly, but she doesn’t back down and readies herself once more. I throw the ball with a bit more power. She swings and misses, a small grunt escaping her, but I don’t say a word, and she picks up the ball, throwing it back to me. The next pitch she nails, sending it sailing past short and into midfield. I watch it go, then turn back to her with my brow raised expectantly, but the girl just shrugs, rests the bat on her shoulder, and waits. A low chuckle leaves me, and I hustle for the ball and back. “Again.”