201 Pregame: University Preparatory High School 2 (1/2)

I stepped into the familiar lines of a batter box. I dug in, pulled my bat back, and eyes the pitcher. It was foggy and hard to see. That's the problem with living on the coast of Northern California. There's something called the marine layer and it made it cloudy almost every morning. I squinted at the pitcher, trying to find him in the mess of white.

The pitch came from nowhere and I was unable to react in time.

”Strike one!” This umpire was extra loud.

I squinted at the direction of the mound, but still couldn't find the pitcher. Another fastball came in and my hands couldn't move my bat fast enough. I whiffed. ”Strike two!” I completely, and utterly, missed the ball. I stared in disbelief at my bat.

”Hard to imagine you having a perfect batting average when you can't even keep your eye on the ball.” Someone said. I looked around trying to find the source to argue that I didn't have a perfect average. I already hit a fly ball!

”Focus on the ball!” I heard Noah say from afar.

Right. I already had two strikes. I faced the invisible pitcher and tried to have my bat ready, but it started to feel foreign in my hands, like it no longer belonged. I took a look at it, and it wasn't my bat! I must have grabbed an aluminum bat by mistake. I dropped it, feeling like it was burning me. A pitch flew right past me into the catchers glove.

”STRIKE THREE! You're out!”

Me? I'm out? A strikeout too? I looked down at the bat, but it wasn't aluminum...it was just wood. How? I grabbed my bat and dragged myself back to the dugout, trying to figure out what just happened.

”You idiot! What were you thinking?!” I was grabbed as soon as I entered the dugout. Chris was shaking me by the front of my jersey. ”We could have scored more runs!!”

I frowned. ”You're not supposed to be here. Mr. Atkins said you wouldn't be here.”

Chris gave an eerie smile. ”Oh? I'm not?” His face started to morph and his hair grew longer and started to curl. That face...a small nose, thin lips, and the forehead wrinkles. My heart started to pound, my breathing felt labored, and I started to struggle out of the hands of the monster.

My mom. It's been almost a year since I've seen her face. I moved frantically, trying to escape.

”Playing baseball?! I. SAID. NO.” A hand came with blazing speed at me and connected with my face.

I gasped and sat up, surrounded by darkness. I was panting, trying to breathe in oxygen. I looked around me trying to figure out where I was. Everything was so dark. I blinked a couple of times to let my eyes adjust. I was in a bed, in a plain looking room. The hotel room.

A snore from beside me made me jump, causing me to slide off the bed and landed on the floor. Ouch. I rubbed my hip and I slowly stood up and looked at the culprit. Noah was spread out on the bed, letting out light snores, not even noticing my panic attack and fall. On the other side of the room, Mr. and Mrs. Atkins were sleeping peacefully on their bed. I sighed. It was just a dream. No. A nightmare. And nightmares aren't real. Just a figment of my imagination.