Mendoza's Return by Susan Crosby

to.”
    â€œYou’re right. Their parents started them in T-ball when they turned four, then kept moving them up the ranks every year. They worked hard to get here.”
    â€œAnd you have a reputation to maintain.”
    â€œDamn straight.”
    They reached an impasse. She swallowed her pride. “Rafe said you want me in the dugout?”
    â€œDuring the games. For practice you can sit wherever you want.” He started walking backward. “I always admired you, Melina. You’ve got spunk. But here? In this place? I’m the boss.”
    â€œGot it.”
    He joined his team.
    Disappointed, Melina made her way to the dugout to twiddle her thumbs. She kept working the glove the way her grandfather showed her as she watched Rafe and Elliot. Rafe didn’t leave his side. She couldn’t hear everything he said, nor could she see Elliot’s expression, but his body language conveyed whenhe was nervous or pleased, tentative or excited. The other boys weren’t talking to him, but they were also busy every second doing a drill of some kind or an other, and Elliot wouldn’t strike up a conversation with them. They needed to do the talking first.
    Then batting practice started and everyone seemed to be holding their breath as Beau threw the first pitch. Elliot smacked ball after ball. Finally after a long string of hits, Beau said, “See that, boys? That’s hitting. You could learn a thing or two from Elliot. He keeps his eyes on the ball.”
    â€œThat’s an expression,” Elliot said. “It means I watch it real close. My batting average is .754,” he added, which probably didn’t endear him to his teammates, who didn’t understand that he wasn’t bragging but just being honest.
    â€œWell, you’re batting a thousand today,” Beau said.
    By the time practice was over, Melina was bored and hungry. She wanted to help. She wanted to play. She even admitted to herself that she wanted to be good at it, not have Beau laugh or Rafe patronize her.
    â€œGood practice, sport,” Rafe said as they all walked to the parking lot, where Elliot’s parents would pick him up.
    â€œI didn’t catch any fly balls,” he said, kicking at the dirt.
    â€œYou will. It just takes practice. Tomorrow nightwe’ll work on that and on picking up grounders, okay?”
    He nodded glumly.
    â€œIt was fun watching you hit,” Melina said.
    â€œThat’s easy.”
    â€œI’m a grown-up, and I can’t do that.”
    â€œYou’re a girl.”
    Rafe laughed.
    â€œGirls can hit balls, too, Elliot,” Melina said, giving Rafe the eye so that he stifled his laughter. “We should watch one of the girls’ games someday.”
    â€œThere’s only guys in the major leagues.”
    â€œMaybe it’s time to change that,” she said. “There are professional basketball leagues for women. And golf.”
    â€œNot football. It’s hard. People get hurt a lot.” He spotted his parents getting out of their car and took off running to them. “I hit a thousand!”
    â€œI’m sorry for interfering with Beau,” Rafe said to Melina as they followed Elliot more slowly. “He was being a jerk.”
    â€œWhat’s new?”
    â€œHe’s more of a jerk now than when we were in high school,” Rafe said. “ Then he was just relentless to get to the majors. Now he’s fallen off the pedestal of success. It’s a long fall, and a painful one.”
    They met up with Elliot and his parents and talked about how the practice went. “I told Elliot we’d work on fly balls and grounders tomorrow. We can’t practice here, of course, but I’ll figure out a place.”
    â€œJust let us know, and we’ll be there,” Steve Anderson said.
    Elliot had climbed into the car and was buckling his seat belt. Rafe said quietly, “I think we need to keep it just