Free The Distance to Home by Jenn Bishop

in front of me, the one that’d be shooting out balls any second. After dinner, Dad had offered to take me to the batting cages. Mom and Haley stayed behind at the house, which was fine. The last thing I wanted was Haley tagging along.
    Shwoop.
The ball came shooting out. I swung hard, the bat ringing in my hands as the ball shot back. A single, at least. Maybe a double?
    “Nice one,” Dad said.
    “Thanks.” I choked up on the bat, gearing up for the next pitch.
    Ping!
    “It’s out of the park! There’s some serious lift on that thing! It’s
still
going! Oh man, it just blew through a cloud. And did it…? Oh man, it did! Yiiikes. Well, what’s one less seagull, anyway? This is one for the record books, folks!”
    “Dad!” I was laughing so hard I missed the next two pitches completely.
    “Sorry, Quinnbear. I couldn’t resist.”
    Dad managed to keep his fake announcing under control for the next fifteen minutes so I could get in some real hitting practice. I let him hop into the batting cage for the last few minutes so he could hit, too.
    It wasn’t until we were in the truck headed home that the sinking feeling came back. I wished we could’ve stayed in the batting cages all night. Just me and my dad.
    “Haley said you had a pretty key hit in the game today,” Dad said. “I wish Mom and I could’ve been there for it. Next summer, I swear, kiddo. Next summer, this client will be history, and I’ll have more time to spend with you and your sister.”
    I stared out the window at the sun, which was finally setting.
    “Quinnen?”
    “She wasn’t even there for it.”
    “What do you mean?”
    Tears crept into my eyes. I blinked hard and fast. Focused on picking at some falling-off foam inside my batting helmet. “She wasn’t watching when it happened. She and Zack…” I didn’t know what I was supposed to tell Dad and not supposed to tell him.
    “She was in the bathroom,” I finally said. Even though I knew it was a lie. “She missed my hit.” My
game-winning
hit.
    “I’m sure she felt really bad about missing it, kiddo.”
    He reached over to pat my shoulder.
    “Yeah.” I stared at the little pile of gray foam in my batting helmet. “Right.”

“Q uinnen! Hurry up and decide! We’re next!” Casey can barely stand still at the ice cream counter. Mom picked us up after the Bandits game—Hector’s first game since he got hit in the face—and said me and Casey could go anywhere in town we wanted for a treat. So of course we chose Gracie’s. So far this summer, I’ve barely come here. Just one time with Dad, when we got cones from the takeout window.
    Dinner at the ballpark was just a few hours ago, but Casey’s jumping up and down and scooting past the people in front of us for a better view of the flavor list. Sixty homemade flavors.
    “Hurry it up, Quinnen,” Mom says. “There are other people waiting, too.”
    Dad never rushes me at Gracie’s, but I don’t tell that to Mom.
    I look up at the list. Cookie dough? Mint chocolate chip? None of my favorite flavors look that good tonight, but the lady in front of me is done ordering, and now it’s my turn.
    “Quinnen! I haven’t seen you in so long. What do you want?” It’s Haley’s friend, Larissa.
    “Medium mint chocolate chip in a bowl. Hey, you look different.” I stare at her, trying to detect what’s changed.
    She smiles real wide. “You can’t tell? I got my braces off!”
    “Right.” Her teeth are super-straight and white.
    “How are you doing? I’ve missed seeing you guys.” She adds another huge green scoop to my bowl.
    “Did you know we’re hosting this summer? We got Brandon.”
    “Sprinkles? They’re on me.”
    “Okay, sure.”
    She spoons a heap of colored sprinkles onto my ice cream. “Brandon? No way! Can I come over? Help you with your homework? I’m dying to meet him. He’s so cute. And, like, a good pitcher, too, right? You must love having him around. I bet he’s giving you all kinds of