The Art of Batting

Amilia put her hands to her head and fought back her tears. It had happened again. She had opened herself up, only to be broken. “You never trust anyone!” her ex-best friends words racing constantly throughout her mind. I wonder why? Amilia thought sarcastically, yelling at the voice inside her head. It’s not like every time I do I don’t I get stabbed in the back! Amilia sighed, she needed to get a grip before Mom came to pick her up from ball practice. It’s not her fault. I need to stop blaming Amanda, she didn’t know any better. She just didn’t understand why I was so upset. She didn’t understand how important those secrets were to me… Amilia breathed in again. It was stupid. She was stupid. She sighed, exhausted. She was tired of being angry, tired of being hurt. It was her own fault for trusting Amanda. Amilia knew better, people were fake, trust only hurt. She had no idea why she had opened up so much… She never did a thing like that, ever, but she was afraid of losing Amanda, her best friend since 4th grade.

“God, I am so stupid,” Amilia said out loud as she put her head in between her hands.

“With all due respect Miss Amilia, I don’t really think that whatever is wrong is God’s fault,” Mr. Michels’s voice rang through Amilia’s ears, startling her.

Amilia turned her attention to the silhouette of her teacher. Honestly, she was surprised that he even new her name. Amilia wasn’t exactly the most outgoing student. She was lucky if she raised her hand in class once a year. Amilia dried the few drops of moisture that had escaped her eyes and replied, “I guess you're right Mr. Michels, sorry. I shouldn’t be mad at God, that was wrong.”

“Oh no, I am not saying that it is not okay to be mad at Him, Lord knows how many times I’ve felt that way, I’m just saying not to blame Him for the mistakes of His creations. It is not his fault what we, mankind, do with our freedom.”

Amilia was confused but too weary to argue, “I guess you're right.” She was just tired. Today was just draining her. To top it off, her mom should be here soon to pick her up, then she’ll go to a room filled with Amanda tainted memories. She’d have to get rid of all of the photos, presents…

He looked at her with an odd expression on his face. Were her thoughts really that obvious? Then, his eyes fell upon the ball bag perched beside Amilia. “You know, life is a lot like batting,” he began, “We all take swings. Sometimes we make mistakes, strikeout, try hitting balls, but… Sometimes we hit Home Runs.” He paused and looked at Amilia, who was staring, intrigued. “So just keep waiting Amilia, cause the Home Runs are what make swinging worth it.” Then, he smiled a half smile and disappeared.

“Thanks, I think,” Amilia called after him. Though his words were confusing they somehow made sense to Amilia. Amanda had been a ball that Amilia had accidentally swung on. It happens, but not all of her pitches were going to be that way, there had to be at least a few good ones, a few good Home Runs ahead of her. She smiled at her new found hope. All she has to do is keep on swinging...