"I need a life," I said to myself, grabbing a bag of carrots. I've recently decided to eat healthier.

"No, you don't, you just need something to do," my mom replied.

As much as I wanted to yell, 'retorical!' I didn't, because my mom would flip on me. She raised a good daughter.

Sighing, I grabbed my backpack and followed my little sisters out the door. My mom is taking us to school.

"So, does anyone have anything going on tonight?" My mom asked, once we pulled out of our driveway. She does it every morning.

"Nope," I replied, in unsion with Sam and Em. They're my little sisters.

"Good, because I have a meeting tonight and I need you guys to help dad clean the house. Tomorrow, dad's side is coming over for a get-together."

That's just perfect. I wanted to hang out with Gia this weekend. I need to do something with my time.

"Hey, mom, would you be okay with me managing the baseball team?" I asked, politely.

"Of course, sweetheart. You aren't doing track this year?"

"Nah, I don't want to." It's true. Middle school track was a joke. Plus, I sucked at it.

"Are you going to talk to the coach? Remember that's Jen's dad."

Jen is one of Sam's best friends. I've known the coach and his kids for a long time now, seeing as we spent a lot of time together as kids.

"Yeah, I'll talk to Mr. James."

The rest of the ride was quiet. I liked it that way, 'cause then I can think. I enjoy peace.

We pulled into the high school parking lot, and my mom dropped me off at the door. If I was going to talk to Mr. James, I better do it sooner rather than later.

Completely passing my friends sitting in the cafeteria, I trotted to his classroom.

"Hey, Ms. Adams, what brings you here?" Mr. James said.

"I was wondering if you still needed a manager for the baseball team," I replied, walking to his desk.

"Actually, I need a manager for varsity. We already have girls doing freshmen and JV. That would be awesome. But you do know that you are expected to be at every practice, game, and every team event we participate in. Even seven a.m. tournaments."

I took all the information in. I can do that, right? I mean, if I did track, it would be worse, but if I stayed home, all I would do is clean, make dinner, and other chores. What've I got to lose?

"Got it. When do I start?"

"We have tryouts in two weeks. They are every day afterschool from 3:45 to 5:30. Then we have the team trip, which is on Saturday. You'll hear more when we tell the boys about it."

Mr. James reached into a desk drawer, and pulled out two papers held together by a staple. He held it out to me.

"Any questions?"

I figures I might as well have one, to prove I payed attention. If there's one thing I learned about high school sports, that's it.

"Yeah, when does the season end?"

"It goes from tryouts, April 13th, to about May 29th for varsity. The other teams end on the 22nd," Mr. James replied, almost as if he had rehearsed it.

"Thank you," I said, getting ready to leave.

"No, Lindsey, thank you. I thought I was going to have to make signs."

I laughed along, Mr. James has always been really funny. That's good, since it will hopefully make the season pretty easy.

"Where were you?" Bre asked me as we took our seats in Algebra ll. Bre is one of my best friends.

"I was talking to Mr. James. I'm going to manage the varsity baseball team."

"How lucky you are. Upperclassmen, muscles, and you are single. You must have really thought this through."

"Not really. I didn't even think about that. Actually, I expected to manage the freshmen team. Apparently someone else already is. Same with JV."

"Uh huh, sure."

With that, the bell rung, and our teacher begans talking. I'm pretty good at math, so this is no big deal.

The bell rung again, 45 minutes later. I picked up my bag and followed everyone out the door. Next hour, I have english with Ms. Halls.

Mr. James is an english teacher, too, but he teaches juniors and seniors.

We have assigned seats in this class, for some reason. I'm pretty sure it was randomized, because I've spent almost the whole year trying to figure one out, and it's almost April.

Today, we have a quiz. Great, on a Monday, too. I'll bet no one studied this weekend. That reminds me, I have a biology test, too. Ugh.

Ms. Halls passed out the quizzes. I took a pencil out, and began answering the questions.

Wow, this isn't very hard.

Dang, I only have three questions left.

Oh! I'm done!

Nobody has finished yet. Doesn't surprise me, though. I always finish first.

Silently, I stood up, and placed my completed paper on Ms. Halls's desk. She looked up at me, as if to say, of course, then she returned to her grading.

I'm used to getting that from every teacher. At least it's not, you probably didn't try, even though it's kind of true. School just comes easy to me.

After returning to my seat, I pulled out the papers that Mr. James gave me.

BASEBALL SCHEDULE

Monday, April 13- Tryouts, 3:45 to 5:30

Tuesday, April 14- Tryouts

Wednesday, April 15- Tryouts

Thursday, April 16- Tryouts

Friday, April 17- Tryouts

Saturday, April 18- Team trip, bus leaves @ 9:15 a.m.

Monday, April 20- Practice, 3:45 to 5:30, to 5:45 for varsity.

That was the first week. After the 20th, they have practice everyday of that week. Games start the week after.

Well, I definetly won't get bored for a while. That's good, though. A little action is just what I need.

"Did everyone finish their quizzes?" Ms. Halls said, breaking my train of thought.

Murmurs and nods filled the room. Ms. Halls continued.

"Good. Tomorrow, we will be starting a new project," groans escaped everyones mouths', "but don't worry, it'll be fun. You will be writing a short story. We won't be working on it in class very much, so it won't be due until June 5th. Yes, I know the last day of school is June 12th."

I like writing stories. I want to be an author someday, but I probably won't get very far. I'm not that good at it.

"What are you going to write about?" Jenette asked me.

"Oh, uh, I'm not really sure."

"There won't be any deadlines except the final project. However, I will be asking for your topics in a couple weeks. Also, I expect at least twenty pages, seeing as you guys have over a month to work on it."

I can easily double that. Maybe even triple, if I work on it during the boys' practice.

The bell rang, and we were dismissed to leave. All I have to do is endure three classes, then lunch, then three more classes.

இ

After the final bell rang, I visited my locker, then ignored everyone and walked to my bus.

I heard my name. At least I think I did. Now I'm sure I heard it. Someone's running towards me.

I spun around, and a large body smacked into me.

"Woah!" I yelled, falling to the ground.

"Sorry Lindsey!" A guy said, offering a hand. I looked up to see Daniel. He's a sophmore.

I was pulled off the ground easily. "So why'd you yell my name?" I asked.

"Oh, yeah, I just wanted to confirm that you are the varsity manager."

"Yes, I am, but I have to go, so see you later."

Completely ignoring the rest if what he was saying, I spun on my heel and strutted out. The bus isn't going to wait for me.

I got on, took my usual seat in the middle, and put my earbuds in. Nothing a little bit of Queen can't help.

I have to admit, I love all the old rock and roll bands. I got addicted when I was ten, and here I am, five years later.

Seening like no time later, the bus stopped at my house. I climbed off quuckly, and sped to the house. I really need a hot shower.

I said nothing to Sam and Em as I ran up the stairs, dropped my bag, and climbed in the shower.

Hot water flowed over my body and I relaxed. I don't even know what got in to me, I just really need to chill.

After shampooing, conditioning, and washing, I grabbed a towel and walked into my room. I threw on a pair of spandex and a tshirt, and ripped a brush through my hair.

Sometime later, my mom called me down for dinner. Usually I help, but definetly not today.

I let the smell of tacos fill my nostrils. Man, I really love tacos. Thank you, God.

"So, Lindsey, how was your day?" My mom asked me the clichè dinner question.

"Ehh, same as usual."

"Did you talk to Mr. James?"

"Yeah, I'm managing varsity."

They went silent. My mom must be thinking a lot like Bre, about the older boys.

"Oh, that's good, because they might be able to give you rides and stuff."

That's very true, mom. And from your point of view, rape me in their cars. Yeah right.

My mom and dad talked to Sam and Em about their days', and more about this weekend. How my cousins are coming over.

After I finished eating, I put my plate in the sink, sulked back upstairs, and fell asleep as soon as my head hit the pillow.

உ

"Zzzz, zzzz, zzzz," my phone vibrated, my six o'clock alarm going off. It's Friday. Chill.

I checked my backpack for any homework I could do during first hour Algebra ll. I hardly have to pay attention in it anyways. Almost like a study hall.

Luckily, I have absolutely no homework. I celebrated, and turned my straightner on.

I was careful not to burn myself. I've done it way too many times.

My golden brown hair fell just past my shoulder. I got it cut shorter a while ago. I think I like it better like this.

A good thing about my hair is it goes really well with my dark, chocolate brown eyes.

I used mascara to fluff up my boring eyelashes. What I wouldn't give to have perfect eyelashes. I hate putting mascara on.

After finishing my morning routine, I took my backpack downstairs and grabbed a chocolate muffin.

I checked my Instagram and Snapchat as I ate the muffin. I have about 200 Instagram followers and ten people on Snapchat. I really do have no life.

ஓ

At school today, a lot of upperclassmen guys stared at me. I recognized some of them as baseball players from last year. The rest still looked very big.

Classes were boring, as usual. Only this time, I actually had homework. But it's just Algebra ll, so it's okay.

I barely spoke to anyone. Only my best friends, to hear them talk about what they're doing this weekend. I told them that I'm busy, so now I have no plans with my friends.

That's okay, since I really need some time to myself. Maybe I'll start writing my short story. Maybe.