The temperature on first day back to school was twenty-four degrees, with a wind that cut through all layers of clothing. Jake's morning jog was barely tolerable, but he refused to skip it — his next game after Christmas break was in two days, and he needed to be in top form. Each exhale produced a cloud of steam, and each inhale burned his throat. His nose lost all feeling and his feet slapped the ground numbly as he rounded the final lap at the neighborhood cul-de-sac. It took five minutes in the scalding shower before any sensation returned to his limbs.
On his way to school, he stopped at 7204 East Lansing Drive and beeped his horn. Holly Morgan came barreling out of her front gate, bundled up to the eyes, books in hand like she was carrying a football. She threw them on the floor of the truck and leaped into the seat, only removing the scarf from her face once the door shut behind her.
"Brrrr! Holy cow, it's cold today!" she exclaimed while rubbing her nose with her glove.
"Coldest day of the year," Jake responded.
"The year is only eleven days old, doofus," she joked and stuck out her tongue. He chuckled. "What, no kiss?"
He leaned to her and kissed her cold lips with his. Jake and Holly had seen quite a lot of each other over the break, spending almost all their free time together. Their families got along, and while the rule that neither could date was never officially reversed in either household, both sets of parents seemed to turn a blind eye to it. It was obvious to all how well they complemented each other, how perfectly they fit as a couple. They played, smiled, laughed, and conversed with total harmony.
It was only in the nights when they were alone when Jake felt out of sync with his young girlfriend. Their make-out sessions were sloppy, inexpert, and above all short-lived. The kissing only gave him desire for more than she was willing to do. They were frustrating and bittersweet episodes that transpired in the discomfort of his truck's cramped cabin.
Jake parked in the senior parking lot, located on the other side of the football field. They walked across the field, which had frosted over, crunching the ice with their boots as they did, on their way to the gymnasium in time for first period. They entered the gym, and a blast of heated air surrounded them.
"Ahh," exhaled Holly. "That is much better." She put her arm around his waist. "Gonna get changed, okay?"
"Yeah, me too," he replied. She waved at him like a little girl and left toward the girls' room. He looked up, to Ms. Bandy's second floor office. The light was on.
Jake had not seen Ms. Bandy since their last private lesson, since his first kiss. A day had not passed when he didn't play it over and over again in his mind — the fear, the pain, the excitement. He dreamed of her often; sometimes as a queen or a princess in distress, and sometimes as a monster or a witch. The dreams changed but they always left him with the same pit in his gut of guilt, depression, and longing. He walked into the boys' room to change.
When Jake had returned to the hardwood, he noticed that the basketball hoops had all been cranked back up to the ceiling, and rubber bases had been placed on the floor to create a makeshift baseball diamond. Ms. Bandy stood to the side, chatting with a few of the other students.
"Mornin', Jake! How was Christmas?" she said as she waved.
"Good morning," he replied. "It was great, thanks. You?"
"Fantastic! Spent the whole time with Mom and Dad," she chipperly responded. It's all an act, he thought. She's not really like this. He didn't know whether to be repulsed or attracted more.
"Are we playing baseball today?" he asked.
"We are playing softball," she said. "You and Wilson are gonna be our umpires."
"Oh?"
"Your coach's orders," she answered. "Nothing too strenuous or dangerous until the season is over." He guessed that made sense. But softball? What was so dangerous about softball?
She divided all of the students into even teams of eight, with herself as all-time pitcher — Holly's team started on defense, and she opted to be the team's catcher. Ms. Bandy passed out gloves to Holly's team and hard rubber bats to the others before jogging up to the rubber pitching mound. Meagan Forster took the bat to lead off; Holly crouched down behind her with the glove. Jake stood behind Holly and patted her on the shoulder.
"Alright, y'all ready?" Ms. Bandy called out. Holly nodded. Jake, feeling good, yelled out in a deep baritone: "Play ball!" Ms. Bandy wound up like a windmill, and launched the rubber ball at Holly.
Jake felt rocked, as if by an explosion. He crumbled to the ground, and heard himself screaming in pain. "Oh shit!" someone yelled, as he tried in vain to gasp for air. He opened his eyes, and saw Holly standing over him. "Jake! Jake! Are you okay!"
Ms. Bandy was running toward him. "Oh my gosh! Oh my gosh! Oh my gosh, Jake, honey, are you okay?" She fell beside him, and put her hands on his arm and his leg. "Oh jeez, I can't believe this. Say something, please," she begged.
"I can't breathe," he tried to say. His hands were at his groin. The pain started as an acute one in the testicles, but it climbed up to his stomach as a dull sickness. He rolled over and wretched.
"Oh no!" Ms. Bandy cried out. Holly sat at his other side. Ms. Bandy turned to her. "Holly, what happened?"
"It was an accident! The ball, like, went right through my glove! I don't know . . . I'm not used to catching fast pitch. Why did you throw it so hard?"
"Oh, shoot!" exclaimed Ms. Bandy. "Just hang on, okay, dude? You're gonna be just fine," she assured him.
Jacob was doubled over, rolling around in agony. As he flailed about the floor, he saw different reactions from his classmates - horror, shock, morbid amusement, outright laughter - each one making the pain worse. He finally caught a breath, and it made him cry out. Holly guided him slowly away from his vomit, wiped his mouth with her hand, and slowly hugged him, swaying him gently, stroking his hair. He didn't know he could hurt so badly and feel so happy at the same time. He loved her at that moment.
"Morgan, give him some air! Get over here! Patterson, give me a hand with this thing," barked Ms. Bandy. She had a roll stretcher with her, which she lowered to the ground. Carefully, she and Mark Patterson rolled him atop of it, then they and two other boys raised it back up. "Try to lay out flat, 'kay?" He was still doubled over; it hurt to lie straight. "Oh my gosh, I am . . . so . . . sorry," she said, and she placed an itchy gray blanket over him to keep him warm.
"Okay, class, carry on with the game. Morgan, you're in charge, got it?" She looked down at Jake. "I'm gonna take Packert to the school nurse." She pushed him out the door, and down the ramp, toward the quad, where the school offices were.
"Where are we going?" he asked, feeling cold, nauseous, and disoriented.
"You really don't listen, do you?" Ms. Bandy muttered under her breath. Jake was unsure what she meant. "Just shut up until we get there." He was in too much pain to accurately register the venom in her tone of voice.
She pushed him a bit too fast, and turned the corner sharply to the building where the school nurse, Mrs. Villanueva, had an office. Ms. Bandy backed up and pushed into the infirmary door.
