" He walked out to the mound. "This ain't softball, girl. You don't have to show 'em the ball like that. Just get set at your belt, step out there and crank it." He smiled at her. "Keep your right foot on the rubber, other foot can start anywhere I guess, even behind it if you want. Wherever." He sniffed. "You're kind'a long-legged ain'cha?"Jean nodded and pitched, leaping off the rubber and concentrating on her follow-through, snapping her wrist as she let go. She ended up square, facing the batter after grunting with effort. It felt good, and she smiled, remembering how she had been taught about fielding her position."That's better. Now push with your right toe and swing your left leg out there, off to the right, try to get your throwing arm a little higher, out to the side. Swing it wide."Jean nodded and threw a side-arm pitch. Jim jumped out of the way but the ball crossed the plate.The coach smiled. "That's called a crossfire. Plant your front foot pointing right at the. "Ben Robson? Who's that? Are yousupposed to be on my register? Which class did you come from?" MrsMatherson once blurted out during a morning Maths class register. Itwould have been slightly funny if it was the first week of term. It wasFebruary. And I had attended that class 5 days a week for a full term anda half.I guess I didn't help the situation. I just kept to myself and stayedquiet. I lingered in the corners. Crept silently through the corridors.Head always down, hair always covering my face.I hung around with a kid named Gary who wanted me to call him "Gizmo"because he loved computers and "gadgets" so much. I never once called himthat. He wore a PacMan backpack, brought a GameBoy to school and hispencil cases - yes cases, plural - were all Star Trek themed. MikeyDavids would sit with us at lunch time because he smelled like wet dogand nobody else would talk to him.We were the lowest of the low.Social outcasts.Those two didn't seem to mind much. They swapped sandwiches at.
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