Cassie’s dad didn’t try to groove one for her, instead pitching her the same as he’d pitched everybody else. Up and in, low and away. Finally the count was two and two. Allie’s dad was calling balls and strikes from behind Jack. Sarah had taken all four pitches. If Mr. Bennett had stayed in sequence, the fifth pitch would have been high and inside. It was inside, but it wasn’t high enough.
Sarah crushed it to right.
Teddy, who played catcher on the boys’ team, could see right away how hard it had been hit, and how deep. Or maybe hear how hard it had been hit. But he stumbled slightly as he turned, got his balance back, running for the fence, having picked up the ball again.
Then he stopped, knowing he had no chance, knowing it was gone. He watched the way they all did as the ball disappeared over the fence, clearing it by a lot.
Cassie had been running all the way, with two outs, but she was following the ball, too, as she rounded third. She knew it was a home run about the same time Teddy Madden did.
She trotted the rest of the way home, right arm in the air. Her arm was still in the air as she crossed the plate, so it was easy for Jack to high-five her. The rest of the girls on Cassie’s team were treating it exactly like what it was, a walk-off homer. They were jumping up and down next to home plate while they waited for Sarah to finish rounding the bases.
Her head down, as usual.
Cassie wanted to be the first to congratulate her, so she had positioned herself a few feet up the third baseline, in foul territory, waiting.
When Sarah got to her, Cassie couldn’t help herself, shouting, “Sarah, that was awesome,” before she extended both hands toward Sarah, waiting for a double high five.
Sarah didn’t high-five Cassie back.
But she did shout back.
“Get off me!”
Then Sarah shoved Cassie, hard, shoved her to the ground, before touching home plate, pivoting, running past the pitcher’s mound, past Cassie’s dad, for the outfield, as if the rest of her teammates were chasing her.
SIX
Cassie kept telling everybody she was fine, she didn’t need to be helped to her feet, it was over, nothing to see here, move along. If one more teammate asked if she was all right, Cassie felt like she was going to be the one yelling for all of them to get off her.
At least Jack knew enough to back off and leave her alone. He just went and stood by himself, over near the bench on the third-base side of the field.
When Cassie walked over to him, she saw that he was smiling.
“That was different,” he said.
“You think?” she said.
Cassie didn’t realize that Kathleen was right behind her. “How do you like her now?” Kathleen said.
Cassie turned and gave her the Look. “Not in the mood for this right now, Kath,” she said. “Not even close.”
“I’m sorry,” Kathleen said. “Did I do something?”
Cassie ignored her, turning instead to face the outfield, where her dad was talking to Sarah, who was standing in her usual spot, head down, of course. Neither one of them seemed in any hurry to join the rest of the team. To Cassie, it already seemed like an hour ago that everybody had been happy and celebrating.
When Cassie was sure it was just her and Jack, she said, “It was my fault.”
“It was nobody’s fault, Cass,” Jack said. “It just happened. Sometimes the heat of the moment gets really, really hot.”
“It was because I got up in her face,” Cassie said.
“Right,” Jack said. “And then you had the nerve to hit her hands with your chest.”
“You know what I mean.”
“And you know what I mean. That there was no way you could have known that she was going to react like that.”
“Still should have known better.”
“Are you insane?” Jack said. “You haven’t even known her for a whole week. You were supposed to know she’d go off because you congratulated her for hitting a home run?”
“I’ve been reading up a lot on Asperger’s,” Cassie said. “I’m telling you, I should have been smarter.”
“Yeah,” Jack said, “in a week you’re an expert.”
“You were right there,” Cassie said. “She was fine until I yelled.”
“Okay,” Jack said. “I’ll give you that. And next time you won’t.”
“She must feel terrible,” Cassie said, staring again at the outfield, where her dad and Sarah hadn’t moved.
“You’re already one of the smartest people I know,” Jack said. “But you need to leave this alone right now. Because you have no idea what she’s feeling.”
“I should go talk to her.”
“Your dad is talking to her.”
“I don’t want this to be a thing.”
“It’s already a thing!” Jack said. “That’s why you need to let your dad handle it.”
“I like to handle things for myself.”
“Wow,” Jack said, “I hadn’t ever picked up on that.”
Cassie didn’t have her phone in the pocket of her shorts. She didn’t know what time it was, or what time the scrimmage had ended, or how long her dad and Sarah had been out there. But it had been a while.
Jack touched Cassie on the shoulder and pointed across the diamond. Sarah’s parents had shown up now with some of the other parents, meaning it was seven o’clock, and time for pickup. The Milligans saw what everybody could see: the rest of the Red Sox players milling around at home plate still, or collecting their stuff at the first-base bench, or the fence behind it. And there was Sarah with Cassie’s dad, out in center. Sarah’s parents had to know something had happened. Not exactly what. But something.
“I should go explain to them what happened,” Cassie said.
But before she could even take one step in their direction, Jack gently placed a hand on her arm.
“Let the grown-ups handle this,” he said.
“You’re saying I can’t?”
“Not as well as the grown-ups,”
