Rachel Hawthorne

“For the briefest of seconds, it was like he looked back into the stands, like maybe he spotted me, shaking my rattle, giving him all the encouragement I could. I could have sworn I saw a corner of his mouth curl up. Then he did the whole Velcro batting glove thing and stepped up to the plate.
The pitch came.
He swung.
Crack!
He hit it! He hit it! I jumped up and started shouting.
I had a second to see the stunned look on his face, like maybe he’d never hit the ball before, but that couldn’t be…
And then I realized what it was. As he started running, he turned his head, his gaze following the ball…
The ball that went out of the ballpark!
Right over the Backyard Mania billboard!
Home run!
My boyfriend had hit a home run!
I jumped around, pointing at the number on my jersey, hugging Bird, hugging Tiffany, watching Jason slapping his coach’s hand as he rounded third. I watched him cross home plate, wearing the biggest grin on his face.
“You know what this means, don’t you?” Bird said.
“That we’re ahead two to nothing?”
“It means he’ll insist you sit in this exact spot for every game. He’ll think this is the good luck spot.”
“No way.”
“Either that, or he’ll ask you not to wash your underwear.”
“Ew! That’s so not happening. Maybe I can convince him it was wearing the jersey.”
Yeah, I thought. That’s the ticket.


Rachel Hawthorne, The Boyfriend League
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The Boyfriend League The Boyfriend League by Rachel Hawthorne
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