Game Face!
998 Words
Chapter 6
Game Face
Peyton's POV
That glance lasted barely a second. Maybe less. But I felt it.
Eyes locked. Her gaze unblinking, curious. A little too long. A little too honest.
Then it broke. I turned away back to team. Ignoring her.
“Rivera!” Coach barked from behind home plate. “Get back in gear!”
I blinked hard, shaking whatever that was out of my system. Amira was just a girl. A quiet one. A new face. That’s all.
I shoved my helmet back on, pulling the strap tight under my chin. The field lights flickered on above us, casting everything in that sharp, yellow glow that made everyone look like they meant business.
I meant business.
“C’mon, let’s move!” Coach yelled again.
“Back in it,” I muttered, more to myself.
Crouching behind the plate, I tapped the dirt once with my glove and threw Tee the signal.
“Fast and inside,” I called.
Tee nodded, dark ponytail whipping as she pulled back and released. The ball came in hot.
CRACK.
Right into my mitt. I barely felt it this time.
“Nice pitch!” I said.
Tee smirked. “Told you I’m on fire today.”
“Don’t get cocky.”
“Too late.”
Next up was Jade on shortstop. She looked light on her feet, bouncing in place, eyes scanning. Cassie jogged across the field behind her, her cleats clapping against the dirt.
“You gonna actually run this time, Cass?” Jade called.
Cassie laughed, flung her glove in the air and caught it behind her back. “I only run when Coach’s yelling!”
“Meaning always,” Brinley chimed from second base. She was quieter, but sharp.
Elena stood firm at first base, hands on her hips, watching like a hawk. Protective, steady.
Nina was in third, twirling her glove between drills. She muttered something about stats and pitch speeds, probably calculating averages in her head.
Skylar, poor Sky, was in left outfield today. She hadn’t gotten a single play yet but kept bouncing, desperate to prove herself. Coach called out a new drill.
“Let’s tighten the infield! Peyton, call the shots!”
I tapped my glove and raised my voice. “Jade, up one step! Brinley, ready for the short!”
Everyone locked in.
Tee wound up, fired the ball.
The batter—a junior who was eager to prove herself—connected.
Jade moved first, lightning-quick, snagged the ball mid-bounce and spun around.
“ONE!” she yelled.
She threw a bullet to Elena, who scooped it clean.
“Out!” I shouted, standing up.
Elena pumped her fist.
“That’s how it’s done!”
Cassie jogged in, laughing. “Can I play now or are y’all gonna hog all the glory?”
Coach smirked. “Cass, centerfield, rotate with Skylar!”
Sky beamed, sprinting to switch spots. Her cheeks flushed with effort.
I dropped into a squat again. My legs burned. My back ached. But I needed it. That strain. That focus.
That silence in my head.
“Keep it up, ladies!” Coach called. “Game next week—we’re not losing to Eastbrook again!”
“Hell no!” Brinley snapped.
The next round went fast—ground balls, fly catches, pivot throws. Elena dove for a low liner, landing hard but laughing. Nina called out strike zones in between plays.
Noisy as always!
By the time Tee came up to bat, she looked half feral with focus.
“I’m sending this ball to the moon,” she said, gripping her bat.
“Yeah?” I smirked, tossing her helmet. “Don’t whiff it.”
She stuck out her tongue.
First pitch—miss.
Second—foul tip.
Third—she connected.
The ball soared deep into left field. Skylar ran like her life depended on it, glove stretched above her head. And she caught it.
The whole team erupted.
Skylar actually jumped, hugging her glove to her chest.
“I DID IT!”
Coach blew her whistle. “Alright, enough showboating. Bring it in!”
I peeled my gear off, helmet first, sweat soaking my hairline. My muscles ached in that good, buzzing way.
We huddled near the bench, steam rising from our shoulders into the night air.
Coach paced, hands on her hips.
“That was tight,” she said. “Clean teamwork. Good coverage. Keep this momentum, and next week is ours. Got it?”
“YES, COACH!” we echoed.
Girls bumped fists, laughed, stretched. Elena handed out granola bars she’d packed, Brinley sat on the grass quietly tying her cleats again. Nina was already pulling stats on her phone. Cassie had filmed another ridiculous video, mouthing “Eye of the Tiger” while holding a glove over her face like a mask.
Tee flopped down beside me. “You still mad about that miss earlier?”
“Nope.”
“You sure?”
“Yes, Tee.”
She narrowed her eyes. “You’ve been weird all practice.”
“I’m always weird.”
“No, like—extra weird.”
I shrugged. “Guess I’m tired.”
Tee didn’t push. She just nudged me with her shoulder and stood. “You killed it, by the way.”
“Thanks.”
I didn’t look at the bleachers. I hadn’t all evening. Not even after that one glance.
Not even when it sat heavy on the back of my neck the whole time.
Coach clapped her hands. “Peyton. A word.”
I blinked.
Every girl’s head turned toward me.
“Coming,” I said quietly.
I walked toward her, rolling my sleeves down, wiping my forehead.
Whatever she wanted to say—it wasn’t about the team.
The field buzzed behind me with leftover energy. My body hurt. My head ached. I didn’t turn back.
Didn’t look toward the bleachers. Didn’t ask myself if Amira had stayed.
Didn’t let myself care.
Not at all.
- Writer
