Chapter Nine

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Chapter Nine

Journal Entry:

Using magic to stuff some attitude down the face of people who really deserve it may not always be the best course of action, but it sure feels good sometimes. Enough of that though, nothing—and I mean nothing—will destroy my mood today. I'll never forget the way my lips felt pressed against hers, or the way my body instantly responded to the contact. It was one of the most powerful moments of my life, and there wasn't an ounce of magic involved in it!

***

All morning, fate had been working against me. Marsha needed me to help take her car to the shop, which made me late for school. Then, the counselor called me into his office and informed me I didn't have enough physical education requirements to graduate, so my schedule got all shifted around. This meant I didn't get a chance to see Portia before classes, so my mood was already a bit on the foul side as I made my way out to the baseball field for my new PE class. A bunch of guys were dressed in the required uniform and standing in front of the dugout, staring up the hill toward me. I couldn't hear what they were saying, but from the looks on their faces, I was fairly certain it wasn't nice.

The coach met me at the gate and I handed him my transfer paper. "Apparently I'm lacking PE requirements, so I was moved into your class," I explained.

"Do you have any workout clothes?" he asked, glancing at my attire with a slight frown.

"Not here at the school. I can bring some in tomorrow, though."

"All right. We can work around that for today." He faced in the direction of the waiting group. "Take the field, boys," he shouted. "Brad, you and Vance here can bat first. Ten pitches each. Try to work the field."

"No problem, Coach!" Brad called back. I knew him the best out of the guys on the field. Not that I was acquainted with him at all; he was captain of the football team, but he also happened to be the boyfriend of Portia's best friend, Shelly. A few more hushed whispers were spoken as I approached, then the group broke up and headed onto the field. Something was definitely going on.

Following Brad to where the bats were hanging in the chain link fence, I flung my jacket across the top and carefully looked at the available bats. A sudden sensation flooded through me and I had to fight hard not to smile. Portia was somewhere close by and she was concerned about me.

"Play much baseball?" Brad asked, interrupting my thoughts.

"Haven't really had the time," I replied, trying to use my senses to pinpoint where Portia might be. She was hiding somewhere, wanting to remain unseen.

"Well, pick a weight and length that feels good to you," Brad continued, grabbing a long, heavy looking bat. "Then you can go stand over there and warm up while I hit. Watch your stance, keep your eye on the ball, and do the best you can."

I leaned against the fence and folded my arms. "I think I'll just use the bat you're using."

He stared at me, shaking his head. "Whatever floats your boat, man." Going to the batter's box, he dug his cleats into the dirt. "Bring it," he called to the pitcher, Kurt.

Brad was good. I had to give him credit for that. His natural athletic abilities took over as ball after ball sailed toward the players in the field, giving them all a good workout as they rushed to catch them.

"Batter up," he said, turning to me and extending the bat when he was finished. I took it and stepped into the box.

"Do the best you can, son," the coach called from where he stood outside the third baseline.

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