Free Cinderella Steals Home by Carly Syms Page A

batting stance is pretty typical," he says, and I look at him over my shoulder as he mirrors my pose. "Let's change that up and see how it works. So line up as you were on home plate. We're gonna close off your stance for more power."  
    He waits as I get myself into the position I'm so used to assuming whenever I'm about to hit a baseball -- even if it's been years since it's happened. For me, I guess, playing baseball is like riding a bicycle; it's something I'll never forget how to do, even if I'm not good at it anymore.  
    "See how you have your feet squared up to the plate?" he asks, and I look down, then nod. "Try taking your foot that's closest to the pitcher's mound and place it a little bit closer to home."  
    I do as he suggests and I'm surprised when he bursts out laughing. "Not like that," he says. "Too much. Move it back a little."  
    I glare at him slightly as he directs my movements until I'm settled into a stance that he thinks looks good.  
    "And that's it?" I ask as he takes a step back toward the machine to resume the pitches.  
    He nods. "We'll see if it works. I have a few other ideas, too, though," he says, then presses the green start button.  
    I take a deep breath and wait the pitch. As it flies toward me, I swing and make contact, but the ball sails straight up in the air and bounces off the vinyl behind me.  
    "That's okay," Doan says, clapping his hands together. "At least you hit it."  
    He's right. It's more than I've been able to do since I picked up my bat again.  
    The next pitch comes at me; I wiggle the bat above my head, eye trained on the ball and at just the last second, I swing through the pitch, putting all of the power from my legs into the hit.  
    And sure enough, the ball flies out toward the machine and clangs into the chain-link fence on the other side.  
    "Well, I don't know about you," Doan says, "but I'm pretty sure if that fence wasn't there, you'd have just hit a home run."  
    It didn't feel like a home run swing to me, but I smile at him anyway, and he returns my grin.  
    For the first time since I've known him, I don't really want to fight with Doan.

    ***

    "I think I'm done," I say after my fifth hit in a row. I've settled into a groove and I'm feeling pretty good about baseball right now.  
    "You sure?" Doan asks.
    "Oh yeah. This is going too well. I don't want to ruin the vibe if I start going cold again."  
    He smiles at me. "I get that," he says. "But I think you're good with this new stance. Let's bring the helmets back if you're done."  
    I pull the batting helmet off of my sweaty hair and fluff it out with my fingers as Doan and I walk side-by-side back up to the ticket office.  
    "Can I get two for mini golf?" Doan asks the booth attendant, digging his wallet out of the back pocket of his pants.  
    "Wait, what?" I turn to him with a frown on my face.  
    He looks down at me and grins. "You said you love it but you haven't played in awhile. We're here so why not go for it, right?"  
    I look at him, surprised he even remembers I made a comment about playing mini golf at all. It just doesn't seem like something someone like him would pick up on.  
    "Well, okay." I smile at him. "Let's do it."  
    He shakes his head like he isn't sure what to think before he passes the attendant a twenty. She hands him his change, then pushes two putters across the counter toward us, and Doan holds them out to me.  
    "Pick a color, any color," he says.  
    She's given us a pink club and a green club, and I reach for the green one, then grab a purple ball to go with it.  
    "Well," Doan says, looking down at the club I left him with. "I'm all about matching my shoes to my purse, so I think I better go with the pink ball, too."  
    I can't hide my smile. "The color suits you."  
    "So you any good at this?" he asks as he tucks a scorecard into the back pocket of his shorts and we walk out toward the courses.  
    "Mini golf? Hell yeah. I'm a pro."  
    "Good," he says.