Class Reunion by Linda Hill

Slamming her fist into the palm of her glove, she hoped fervently that he would strike out. Or fly out. Or hit a home run. Anything so that she wouldn’t have to touch the ball.
    “Strike one!”
    Two more.
    “Strike two!”
    Hope soared. Just one more. One more.
    With a loud crack, the bat swung around and met the ball soundly. Jen watched the ball sail high to her left, soaring over Diane Miller’s head and dropping near the fence.
    Bobby ran hard as the crowd cheered and Diane raced for the ball. He rounded first base as Diane scooped up the ball, and Jennifer found second base with one toe and braced herself for Diane’s throw. A quick sideways glace told her that Bobby was digging in, eyes wild as he ran right at her.
    Tag him. I have to tag him. With a thud, the ball snuggled into her glove. In a single motion, her arm swept down as she adjusted her position, facing him squarely. Too late, she realized he wasn’t going to try avoiding the tag. He was barreling down on her, sliding. Sliding. Legs thrust in the air, booted feet slamming into her legs as his elbow sent a jolt to her forehead.
    She felt herself flying backward, falling until her back slammed against the ground and the air was forced from her lungs.
    Quiet. Darkness. She was floating. Images flickered in her mind. Buzzing sounded in her ears. Voices. Suddenly loud and angry. She opened her eyes and blinked hard to shield the sunlight. She was thankful when a shadow fell across her, shading her from the bright light.
    “Jenny? Are you okay?” Concern. She recognized the voice. Vaguely. She blinked again. An angel’s face hovered just above hers.
    No. Not an angel. “Heather?”
    Relief washed over Heather’s face. “Are you okay? Can you move?”
    Jennifer tried lifting her head. A shock of pain split her skull as she became aware of the people and sounds that surrounded her. Wincing, she let Heather help her to sit up as she recognized Diane Miller’s growl just a few feet away.
    “What did you think you were doing?” Diane’s face was inches from Bobby’s. “This is a game, assŹhole. A game.” She thumped a pointed finger into his chest and pushed him away before turning and squatting beside Heather.
    “You okay? Everything working?”
    “I think so,” Jen managed to whisper. By then, the bleachers had emptied, and Jen was surrounded by her old friends. Lucy was on her knees, inspecting the growing welt on Jen’s forehead and calling for someone to bring some ice.
    Jen insisted she was fine and convinced them to help her stand. They walked her out of the ballpark and found a shady area beneath several large trees where she insisted that she sit down and take a quick inventory. She rejected suggestions that she go to the hospital, politely telling everyone to go back to the game and that she would be all right.
    Heather sat quietly beside her as Jen closed her eyes and willed the pain in her head to go away.
    “Your knee looks pretty torn up,” Heather said quietly. “I have a first-aid kit in my car. Will you be okay while I get it?”
    Jennifer mumbled that she would be fine. When all was quiet a few moments later, Jen peered out from beneath heavy lids to see Heather still sitting beside her. Embarrassed, she tried to smile.
    “Really. I’ll be okay.”
    Heather seemed to hesitate, a frown pulling her eyebrows together. “I’m not sure if I should go just now. I think someone wants to talk to you.”
    Jennifer managed to glance in the direction of Heather’s tilted head. Sheila stood some twenty yards away, hands on hips and her lips a straight line as she stared back at Jennifer. Oddly, Diane was standing just inches in front of the other woman, her head bobbing as she spoke to Sheila in hushed tones.
    Jen watched as Sheila tried to sidestep Diane, only to find the taller woman blocking her path once again.
    Jennifer groaned, willing Sheila to turn away, not wanting another confrontation today. Not wanting another