She got another strikeout.
But then she walked the Yankees’ third baseman, loading the bases for Sydney Ellis, who had hit the ball hard every single time she’d come up against Cassie, even though she just had one base hit to show for it.
Allie had to be careful with her, obviously, just not too careful, or she risked walking in the go-ahead run and leaving them loaded.
Cassie called time and ran into the mound from shortstop, big smile on her face. She took the ball out of Allie’s glove and rubbed it up.
“You got this, girlfriend,” she said.
In a low voice Allie said, “No, you’d have this.”
Cassie kept her own voice low now. “If you’re gonna miss with her, miss inside. Trust me, you don’t want this girl to extend her arms.”
She put the ball back, hard, into Allie’s glove.
“These are the fun parts,” Cassie said.
Allie managed a small smile. “Thanks for reminding me.”
The count went to 2–2. Both of Allie’s misses had been inside. Now she put another fastball on the inside corner, the best pitch she’d thrown yet. Sydney took a big swing, and got her bat on the ball, but it sounded to Cassie as if she’d caught it closer to the handle, not getting all of it. Sydney had gotten enough to hit the ball between Kathleen and Sarah in left-center field.
From the night of tryouts, Cassie’s dad had been clear about something in outfield drills:
He wanted his center fielder to take charge on balls like this, like his center fielder was the quarterback of the outfielders, calling the plays, and calling for the ball.
Cassie could only turn and follow the flight of the ball, knowing there was nothing to do about the two base runners behind her. They were doing what she’d done on the ball Sarah had hit in the bottom of the sixth, running all the way with two outs.
She did hear Ana call out to her from second, “You take the cutoff if there is one,” both of them hoping there wasn’t going to be a cutoff throw, that either Kathleen or Sarah was going to make the catch.
If somebody made the call in the outfield, they made it as Ana had yelled over to Cassie.
The next thing Cassie saw was Sarah Milligan coming to a dead stop and Kathleen reaching in vain as the ball fell between them, and rolled all the way to the wall.
When it finally stopped rolling, Sydney was standing on third and it was 3–0 for the Yankees. Technically the game wasn’t over yet.
But everybody on the Red Sox knew it was.
NINE
The Red Sox got two runners on in the bottom of the seventh, to at least give themselves a chance to come all the way back. But Kathleen made the last out of the game, a routine fly ball to center.
For the first time since the summer after sixth grade, Cassie’s softball team had lost. She’d forgotten what that felt like. She had known she wasn’t going to keep winning games for as long as she played. As loaded as their team was, she hadn’t really thought they were going to win out again this summer. They’d all heard about how strong some of the other teams in All-Stars were.
It didn’t mean she had to like the feeling.
Her dad did what he always did after games, after they’d all shaken hands with the players on the other team: he gathered his own players around him in short right field. No parents. Just the team.
When all the players were out there, Chris Bennett had to walk back to the bench, where Sarah was seated, and ask her to come join them.
The other players were seated in the grass, in a circle. Sarah stood behind them.
“Well, that was some great game with a not-so-great ending,” Chris Bennett said. “But you’ll get tired of hearing me say this by the time our season is over. People always remember what happens at the end of a close game. But it’s never just one thing, even when it looks like it is. Sports is way more complicated than that. We had our chances today. And when we get those same type of chances on Tuesday night, we’ll convert enough of them to win the game.”
Tuesday night was their next game, against Moran.
Sarah was across from where Cassie was sitting. She wasn’t looking down. She seemed to be looking past Cassie and past the outfield fences, her eyes fixed on some distant point. Or maybe on nothing at all.
Cassie’s dad smacked his hands together. “So, we good?” he asked.
“No,” Kathleen said. “We’re not.”
It was like she couldn’t control herself any longer, couldn’t hold in everything she’d been holding in since she’d made the last out. Or maybe since Sydney’s ball had fallen between her and Sarah.
She got up now, and turned to face Sarah Milligan, who was still staring off, now shifting her weight quickly from one foot to the other.
“That was your ball,” Kathleen said to Sarah.
Sarah wasn’t looking at her.
“I’m talking to you, Sarah,” Kathleen said.
But Sarah didn’t look at Kathleen right away. She looked at Cassie, as if somehow Cassie could do something to help her.
As if Cassie could fix this.
Cassie’s dad said, “Not the time, Kath.”
“What would be a good time to say what we’re all thinking, Coach Bennett?” Kathleen said. “You always tell us that the center fielder is the one who’s supposed to take charge. It was her ball, and she knows it.”
Sarah spoke now, in a voice that Cassie could barely hear, one she wondered if Kathleen could hear, and Kathleen was standing right in front of Sarah by now.
But Sarah was looking back at Cassie.
“She said it was hers,” Sarah said.
“I did not!” Kathleen said, in a voice that Cassie knew was much too loud for Sarah. Cassie was worried it would spook Sarah and make her do something now with Kathleen that Sarah would regret. Like what she’d done
