The fan swirled around lazily, barely sending any cool air down towards the floor. The locker room was small and stuffy. Lockers lined three of the walls and had benches under each wall. The other side of the room led to the bathrooms, sinks, and showers.

I've been sitting on one of the benches now for about five minutes. I had already changed and pulled my hair in to a pony tail with a light blue ribbon tied around the hair tie.

I always wore a ribbon for games. My dad happened to get this one for me when I was ten. It was a light blue color with a silky texture.

It was on one of our early morning walks together at Ocean City. I could remember the day almost perfectly. It was warmer than usual with the tide coming in soft enough for us to walk right along the water. This was the last summer before Dad got sick and we couldn't go as earlier in the mornings for walks. We walked along in a comfortable silence, only listening to the waves break on the rocks. Seagulls swooped high in the sky, calling to each other.

A booth on the boardwalk had caught Dad's eye. It was one of the smaller ones that was being setup for that day. The woman, who owned it, was busily setting out a table with her items. There was a loud bang as the table fell over as she tried to pull out the legs. Several people walked by her, not giving a second glance as she struggled with the booth. Dad tugged at my hand for me to follow him up towards her table. The woman was probably in her seventies. Her white hair was styled in a shorter cut that swept over her forehead. Long feather earrings hung from her ears all the way down to brush her shoulders. We made our way up to where she had sat down in a chair, giving up. Her eyes watched us carefully as we went up the stairs from the beach.

"Good morning," Dad said, kindly. He smiled widely at her. It didn't matter who you were; Dad always smiled at anyone he made eye contact with. His eyes crinkle at the sides and deep laugh lines creased his face. Dad was always laughing and smiling.

"Hello," she replied, peering at us from colorful cat eye framed glasses. Her eyes were a piercing ice blue that were outlined in a sparkly green eyeliner.

"Thought we might help you out with this table," he said. I took this as my queue to grab the other side of the large table. It took the both of us to lift it and set it down the correct way. I could see why she couldn't do it herself. The mahogany colored wood was rather heavy.

"Thank you," she said, looking at us greatfully.

"Not a problem, ma'm," my dad replied politely. "Let's go, Gloria." We turned to leave to continue our way down the beach.

"Young lady," the old woman called to us.

I turned, surprised that she was calling me back.

"I have some very nice ribbon I'm selling, and that beautiful red hair of yours looks like it needs a ribbon."

I grinned at her and looked up at Dad. He nodded and followed behind me to go pick a color.

She had laid out dozens of spools of different colored ribbon. My eyes grazed over all the shades of different colors. There were so many to choose from I was lost on what to ask for.

"Gloria, what about this one?" Dad said, pushing aside a red and black spool. Underneath was a light blue colored ribbon.

"Perfect," I confirmed.

"We'll take this color."

"Alright, let me cut a piece off for you."

"It looks like the color of the ocean, huh?" Dad asked as the woman went searching for scissors.

"Yeah, it does!" I exclaimed, looking out at the water rolling on to the beach. The sun reflected off the waves of the turquiose ocean.

"It also looks exactly like your eyes that you got from your mom," he said nudging me. I grinned at him.

That was seven years ago, and I still wore the ribbon every game. The ends were fraying, but every year or so, I would burn the edges again.

My hands were in my lap, picking at my fingernails subconsciously. I was nervous. There was no way to get around it. I wasn't sure if I would even play or not, but I was freaking out about the entire thing. What in the world was I doing at this camp? I don't belong here, and many people have made it very clear they think the same thing. I did not think this through very well.

I couldn't help but pull at the end of my ponytail. What can I say? Nervous habit.

"Hey, Glor. You ready?" someone called in to the locker room. It was Jackson. One of the few people who would actually check on me.

"Yeah. You can come in," I called back weakly.

Jackson came around the corner of the lockers, dressed in his uniform. His hat was already on as well. He came to sit down next to me on the bench.

"How're you feeling?" he asked, leaning over to rest his elbows on his knees.

"Alright," I answered, yet again, weakly.

My voice was coming out in a pathetic manner. I needed to grow up and get over myself.

"You're nervous," he deadpanned.

"That obvious?"

"I could tell from outside."

I twisted my lips to the side and sighed.

"It's the first game. You'll be fine. Everyone else is nervous too. It was so quiet in the locker room, I could hear myself breathing."

I laughed. Least, I wasn't the only one.

"Come on. They're waiting outside," Jackson said, holding out a hand to me.

I really needed to change my tampon before we went out. I sincerely hope this won't be awkward.

"Give me one second. I need to go to the bathroom," I replied, grabbing his hand and standing up.

I took my feminine supplies bag with me and scurried to the bathroom.

"Time of the month?" his voice suddenly cut in to my speed walk to the bathroom.

"How'd you know?" I said, slightly embarrassed.

Now, when it comes to my period, I'm an open person. I think it's stupid that people think it's scandalous or whatever. Come on. It's a natural body function for girls. You know it happens, so don't act all surprised about it or something. It was kind of weird that Jackson knew immediately though. Was it that obvious?

"I have an older sister," he explained.

"That makes more sense," I said, relieved that he knew for that reason, not because I was bleeding through my pants without me knowing.

"The whole mood swings and bringing a bag to the bathroom with you is a pretty telling sign for me."

"I didn't know you had a sister," I called to him from the bathroom stall.

"She's pretty cool. Her name's Nicole," he explained.

"How old is she?"

"She's 20. She's a junior at University of California: Irvine. I got thrown in to that whole girl world by about the time I was ten."

I chuckled at his story. It was the absolute opposite for Miles. I finished what I needed to do and washed my hands.

"Ready," I proclaimed coming back in to the locker room area. I was calmer now after taking my mind off of the game for a few minutes.

"Let's hit it," Jackson said.

We walked outside to where the rest of the team was roaming around, waiting for us.

"Took you guys long enough," Nathan snapped.

"We almost sent someone else in to make sure you guys weren't fooling around in there," Danny chimed in with a smirk.

"Shut up, Danny. We're a little more mature than you are," Jackson fired back.

"Some of us don't need to get laid to survive," I teased, poking his forearm.

"I feel like my throat is closing up," Danny suddenly cried. He dramatically put a hand over his forehead. He started making choking noises to emphasis his little show. "Gloria, you're the only one who can save me. I need... sex." He grasped out at me, but I quickly slapped away his hands.

"Looks like you're going to die," I deadpanned, crossing my arms over my chest.

"You're going to let my die?" Danny whined. Two muscular arms wrapped around my waist dragging me in towards his chest. I was wrapped in to his jersey. "How could you?"

"Let's go. We're going to be late," Miles barked.

Danny let one side of me go, but he walked right next to me so he could have an arm slung over my shoulders.

"He's in a bad mood, isn't he?" Danny mumbled to me softly.

"How could you tell?" I muttered low enough for him to only hear.

He laughed out loud, and I couldn't help but join in.

Miles snapped his head around to glare at us.

"What do you want?" I bit out.

"Nothing from you," Miles shot back.

I threw him a dirty look and rolled my eyes.

He turned away to look forward again.

"Fucking dickhead," I spat.

Danny chuckled softly, trying to conceal it by turning his head away.

"I heard that," Miles called over his shoulder.

"That was the point, Dumbass."

Danny laughed harder at this, even biting his jersey to muffle his chuckles.

Miles didn't bother to reply after that. Jesus Christ, and I thought Danny was the immature one.

When we rounded the corner of the sidewalk, I scanned the bleachers hoping that the red team had left. Luckily, they were no where to be seen. We walked back to Coach, who hadn't moved from his spot on the bucket. The first game was now in the 9th inning with the visiting team up by two runs. It was the bottom of the inning, so the home team could only save themselves by scoring at least three runs.

Coach glanced over at us as we marched over.

"Start warming up," Rust called, jabbing his thumb over his shoulder. Before we went on our run, we pulled on our cleats and laced them up. My fingers pulled the laces tight and tied them in a double knot. I couldn't help but crack my knuckles nervously.

When everyone's shoes were on, we took off to the far stadium light post. On the other practice field was the red team we had seen before. They were all throwing on one of the foul lines. So looks like we'd be playing them for our first game. We turned around at the pole and started to jog back to Coach. I threw the ball around with Harrison before we hit off the tee and hit wiffles. Coach didn't get up from his spot. He sat on that goddamn bucket the entire time, doing the lineup and watching the last inning of the first game.

The visiting team had held the home team from scoring any runs in the last inning. The crowds of people who were obviously the home team's fans were quiet.

An hour after going through all the hitting warmups and taking ground balls, Coach pulled us in for a huddle.

"Alright, guys," he began. I decided not to press the complaint of using "guys and girl." "This is what we've been working for. I want you to go out there and play like we've have been for the last six weeks. Now for the starting line up. Today, we're going to start with Logan pitching first and Jackson coming in for relief. Eli, you're going to be catching, but I will probably bring Markus in after 5 innings. Miles, you'll be at first with Dylan at second."

Harrison visibly deflated at the mention of him not playing. I put a hand on his back, giving him a light pat. He looked up at with his big hazel orbs and gave a weak smile that didn't reach his eyes.

"Walker will be playing short."

I gave a small sigh, but continued to make eye contact with Harrison. At the mention of who was playing shortstop, Harrison looked again depressed with what Coach had to say.

Rust read off the rest of the players in the field before getting to the batting line up. For these games that only counted towards a team's record, you were able to bat all players on the team. My name came up at the 15th spot with Harrison bringing up the rear in the 16th spot. The only thing I could think of is at least we were able to hit.

"Let's start our playing season off positive and go win this game," Coach Rust yelled throwing his hand up for a call.

The group gave a few calls of agreement before putting their arms up as well.

"Mustangs on three," Coach called in a deep voice.

"One! Two! Three!"

"Mustangs!"

And with that we headed off to grab our bags and go to the dugout.

The red team was filing in as we rounded the corner of the field. We found out they were the Red Wolves after we had gotten back from the locker rooms. I was chewing on my bottom lip furiously. My nerves were currently off the charts.

We set our stuff under the bench and pulled our equipment out. I placed my glove, helmet, and batting gloves on the bench along with everyone else. My bat was set down to prop against the fence. The dug out was like one that could be found on any professional field. It was a sunken-in structure. A long bench ran along the bottom. Two steps away were about four concrete steps that stopped where the fence was. The fence went up to my chest with a plastic covering over the top of the fence. A bathroom and storage room were also built in to the dugout.

After placing all of my equipment down in the appropriate places, I walked up the four stairs and leaned against the dugout fence. A field crew was busily preparing the field again for our game.

The lines were being carefully redrawn, and the infield dirt was being raked. I propped my head up in my hand and watched them. Everyone else was putting their stuff away, but the noise of them banging their things around didn't reach me. My mind was somewhere far away from here. Memories of baseball games played through my head like a movie. From age six, when I played for the first time to age eleven, when I played my final game with Dad present.

A hand touched my back bringing me out of the memories. The last person I would expect came to stand next to me.

"Sorry, I've been being an asshole today," Miles said quietly.

No one else was anywhere close to us. They were still taking their stuff out at the rate of sloths.

I chewed on the inside of my lip, continuing to look out to the field. We stood in silence, leaning on the fence. He didn't say anything to prompt me. He just stood their waiting for me when I was ready.

All of a sudden, something bubbled inside me. I couldn't help but let out a few chuckles.

"Yeah, you are an asshole," I replied finally. I looked at Miles, who had a funny smile on his face.

"I'm going to take that as you accepting my apology."

I paused, lifting my lips into a small smile.

"You ready to play?" Miles asked, nudging my arm.

Another pause. I couldn't help but hesitate. Was I really ready?

I shrugged in response.

"You're ready," he said calmly.

"We'll see."

...

The ball cracked off the bat and went flying in to the center right gap. Dylan went sprinting around the bases. He slid in to second head first. He was safe by a long shot.

The dugout erupted in more cheers as Dylan stood up and brushed off the front of this jersey. He sent a bright smile at the dugout before jumping on the bag.

It was the third inning of the game. We were currently up by two with one out. Dylan was the 14th batter, so I was now up.

The entire time I had stood in the on-deck circle I swung my bat nervously timing the pitcher.

Then like that, it was my turn. My breathing came in shallow breaths. My hands were practically shaking as I carried my bat with me to the plate. It was at that moment that the Red Wolves finally realized I played on the team that they were teasing less than two hours ago.

The catcher pulled off his mask as I walked briskly to the plate. It was the dark haired guy that was calling out to me. He raised his eyebrows at me before smirking.

"Oh, so little girl's trying to play baseball," he sneered.

I ignored the comment, so I didn't get thrown out for throwing a punch. My hands tightened around the bat. I looked out to Coach for a sign. He stood stoic in the coach's box. His arms were crossed over his chest. I waited for some kind of a signal. He finally nodded at me. He wanted me to hit.

Did he have actual faith in me? Was that the sign that he wanted me to do what I needed to do? Or did he just want to get my at-bat over with?

I nodded back and took a calming breath. I brought my bat to be vertical to me.

Be with me, Dad.

With the last prayer, I stepped in to the batter's box. I could hear the dugout cheering and screaming out to the field.

"Hey, get it, Gloria!"

"You got it, Glors!"

"Lotta green out there for you!"

"Here we go, kid!"

"Come on, baby girl!"

I looked out to the pitcher's mound where the pitcher stood, glaring me down. His hat was pulled low over his face. I kept my bat on my shoulder until he decided to go in to his windup. His mouth was twisted in to an ugly smirk that made me rethink why I wanted to step in to the batter's box. I had a bad feeling about this.

Finally, he brought the ball to his glove. He stooped low in to a stance before turning and kicking up his leg.

I lifted the bat slowly and loaded in to the pitch. My legs were ever so slightly quivering.

The pitcher's arm went back and then it started to come forward.

Everything was going in slow motion as his arm came forward with his body coming behind it to give it some velocity. The ball was high and inside. As the ball got closer, I realized the ball was very inside. Like going to hit me inside.

I froze momentarily, not realizing what was happening. When my brain finally clicked to what was happening, I turned away and shrugged my shoulders, so my helmet was protecting my neck. If this ball hits me in the back of the neck, I could have an instant death from the spinal cord being snapped. All the muscles in my back tensed preparing for impact.

Thud.

The ball hit straight between my left shoulder blade and my left arm. I did my best not to collapse from the sudden pain that was now engulfing my left side. I let the bat fall from my back to hit the ground. My arms fell down to clutch my knees for some support.

Jesus Christ, that hurt. I took deep breaths trying to re-inflate my lungs. The wind had been knocked clean out of me.

"Are you fucking kidding me?" voices cried from the dugout.

My head was ducked down, but at the words that were being yelled out of our dugout, I looked up to see the rest of our team ready to coming sprinting out of the dugout. This was going to be a full brawl if I didn't tell them to stop.