Michael swung the bat as hard as he could, striking the baseball with a sound like thunder, sending it flying to the outfield. Billy looked up, desperately trying to track it, but the glare of the setting sun got in his eyes. Sweat made his glasses slide down his nose; he had to adjust them.
All the other kids kept shouting for Billy to get the ball, but he didn’t even know where to start looking. Finally, he heard a soft rustle in the bushes. That could only mean one thing: Michael had knocked it out of the park. Literally.
At thirteen years old, Michael Bateson was a few inches taller than most of his peers. He had a strong chin and thick, blonde hair. Susie Jenkins kept insisting that he was the most kissable boy in their class, though Billy had no idea how she had reached that conclu
