Zombies in the Outfield

My dad called my pitching style 'zombie-like' — mostly dead, but somehow still moving. Thanks, Dad. Way to boost a guy's confidence before his first varsity start.

The iPhone buzzed in my back pocket, probably another TikTok notification I'd check way too many times before midnight. I stood on the mound, sweat already making my jersey cling to my back like a second skin. The baseball felt slick in my fingers.

Third base. Our school's actual mascot was a bear, but due to budget cuts, we just had a guy in a duct-taped costume that looked more like a confused grizzly with anger issues. Tonight, Tyler was inside that suit, probably roasting alive in the spring heat. Tyler, who'd somehow gotten hotter over winter break. Tyler, who'd been in my sixth-period English since forever but suddenly made my stomach do actual gymnastics when he looked at me.

The batter stepped in. I shook off the first two signals. Why did I do that? I only knew, like, three pitches.

'You good, Rookie?' Tyler called from third, his voice muffled through the bear head but still annoyingly attractive. I gave a thumbs-up. My palms were sweating so much the ball was basically Slip 'n Slide at this point.

First pitch: high and outside. Ball. Classic.

My phone buzzed again. I ignored it. Probably my mom asking if I wanted lasagna later. The universe: 'Hey, you're about to embarrass yourself in front of your whole school AND your crush, want some dinner?'

I wound up again, focused on Tyler's visible knee beneath the bear costume, and threw.

Strike.

The inning ended. Tyler lumbered over as I headed to the dugout, bear head tucked under one arm, hair plastered to his forehead with sweat. 'That last one was nasty,' he said. 'You practice that?'

'Uh,' I said, because articulation is apparently not my thing when cute guys talk to me. 'YouTube tutorials?'

He laughed. Actual laugh. 'Wanna show me some moves later? I'm garbage at pitching but I could probably help you not look like you're about to puke every time you throw.'

I managed something resembling a nod while my internal monologue screamed YES PLEASE in all caps.

My phone buzzed one more time. A text from Tyler, somehow gotten while I'd been on the mound: 'Good luck tonight, Rookie. You got this. Also your form is way better than you think. 😉'

The bear costume head was looking pretty good from where I stood. Maybe being a zombie wasn't the worst thing — at least we came back to life eventually.