Free For All You Have Left by Laura Miller

misses his bat and lands in my mitt instead. I stand up and throw the ball back to Andrew, and at the same time, feel a drop on my hand. I glance up at the sky and then down at James.
    “Okay, James, you’ll get this next one,” I say.
    I kneel down again and wait for the second pitch.
    “I felt a drop,” Hannah yells from the outfield. “I’m outta here. I’m not letting this mess up my beachy waves.”
    And just like that, we’re all watching Hannah sprint across the field and toward the house like a crazy person.
    I catch Andrew through the bars in my mask a second later. He’s already facing the batter’s box again, paying no attention to his outfielder who just left him. I watch his windup and then, for the second time, he releases the ball. And once again, James swings, but the ball flies unscathed right into my mitt.
    “It’s all right, James,” I say. “That’s why we get three tries. Just try to keep your eye on the ball.”
    I stand up and throw the ball back to Andrew. Then, all of a sudden, another crash of thunder rumbles through the sky, but this time, it seems to shake the earth around us.
    James flashes me a frightened glance, then looks up at the sky. “I’m outta here too!” he yells, throwing the bat to the ground.
    He takes off running toward the house. I slide the catcher’s mask off and look up. There’s nothing but big, dark, ominous clouds above us now.
    “Play catch with me,” Andrew says, trying to win me over with his puppy-dog-pleading eyes.
    I just stare at him . I know it’s about to pour.
    “Come on,” he begs.
    I let out a sigh, but somehow, there’s a smile attached as I set the mask and the catcher’s mitt onto the ground, slide a glove over my hand and open it toward him.
    “Yes,” he exclaims, pumping his fist.
    He throws the ball, and it lands hard inside my glove. But before I can even get the ball into my opposite hand, the sky opens up, and a flood of water traps us in its wake.
    I can’t help but squeal. The big dro ps washing over my skin are ice-cold.
    Andrew runs over to me and scoops up the mask, the mitt and the bat and throws them into a five-gallon bucket. Then, he slides the glove off my hand and throws it into the bucket as well right before he grabs my hand.
    “Come on,” he says, pulling me along.
    We run to a little shed next to the dirt field and take shelter under it. Inside, I wipe my eyes and unglue the hair stuck to the sides of my face, then cross my arms around my chest to ward off the goose bumps.
    Andrew sets the bucket in the corner, then comes over to me and puts his arms around my shoulders and starts rubbing the parts of my bare skin that aren’t covered by my tee shirt.
    I feel a shiver run up my back right before I look up at him. “Thanks,” I say.
    For a second, it’s as if his eyes are stuck in mine. Then, slowly, a smile zigzags across his face.
    “J eez, Little Logan, you look like a wet, little kitten. What happened to you?”
    I roll my eyes and wrap my arms tighter around my chest. “You happened, Andrew.”
    He laughs.
    “You know what?”
    “What?” I ask.
    I grab the bottom of my tee shirt and twist it until water starts to come out.
    “I love you.”
    I immediately drop my shirt and jerk my head up.
    “What did you say?”
    “I...I love you.”
    I bore two holes straight through his head, but his expression doesn’t waver. “No, you don’t.” I look away and laugh nervously. Then, I decide quickly that battling the rain just might be less awkward than the conversation we’re apparently having right now, and I take a step out into it.
    “Wait,” Andrew says, grabbing my arm and pulling me back. “Where are you going?”
    “Home,” I say.
    He’s somehow successful at getting me back inside the shed.
    “Just wait a second. What do you mean I ‘don’t’?”
    “I mean, you don’t know what love is. You’re twelve, Andrew.”
    “Twelve and half,” he corrects me.
    “Fine,” I say. “It