Chapter Text
April
April had never felt so stressed, and that is one hell of a statement for the girl who spent the night before her first day of freshman year at The Milton School annotating laminated maps of the campus. She had been staring at her monitor for the past 4 hours, studying every single move Sterling Wesley made in every game in the season.
It had become a nightly ritual since Willingham’s crushing victory over Redeemer. April always knew Sterling was a talented pitcher, she had played with her all through middle school. Until that week, however, it hadn’t been a problem. Milton’s team was never strong enough to make it to regionals, a feat Willingham pulled off almost every year. The topic was a sore spot for April, who begged Mr. Stevens not to move them to Columbus. She needed to play on a good team to get a scholarship for Arizona, April had insisted. Mr. Stevens, however, insisted that April wouldn’t need a scholarship when she headed to UGA with in-state tuition and pockets full of daddy’s money.
Miraculously, this year was different. Milton had been blessed with a transfer student from Texas that moved like the Flash, a new coach and an even more determined Captain Stevens. The following week, Milton would face off against the state’s reigning champions, and April would be face-to-face with her old friend, the one person who seemed to always know how to hit her where it hurts.
Sterling
Luke’s hand felt strong and protective around Sterling’s as he drove them home from the restaurant.
“Are you okay, babe?” he asked as nonchalantly as possible. Sterling had been quiet the entire night. This was a far throw from normal, where Luke wouldn’t be able to talk about golf for more than five minutes before Sterling interrupted him with some crazy Blair story. “Babe?” he prodded again after a few seconds.
“Oh, sorry. It’s just, uh, April.” Sterling finally answered, pulling her hand out of Luke’s to play with it in her lap. After a few moments of Luke staring at Sterling blankly, she added “Stevens”.
“April Stevens? Now that’s a name I haven’t heard in a hot minute.” Sterling chuckled at Luke’s use of ‘hot minute’, he always was a bit of an old soul.
“She moved to Columbus, remember? We’re playing Milton something or other in regionals next week. I’d never heard of that school, so I looked on their website and it says the softball captain is April Stevens. I guess Milton is in Columbus...” Sterling trailed off, unsure of what she was really trying to say.
Looking like the human embodiment of a golden retriever, Luke blurted out “That’ll be so nice, you two haven’t seen each other since 8th grade!” Sterling was completely dumbfounded that her boyfriend could forget the ugly demise of her and April’s friendship. Dumbfounded, but not surprised.
“Luke, she hates me. Her last day at Willingham she signed every single person in our class’ yearbook, and she didn’t even say a word to me. It’s going to make the game so much more stressful with her dumb bitch face staring at me.”
“Huh,” Luke replied eventually. He seemed to understand that the topic shouldn’t be pushed further. After a minute, Sterling put on her sweetest smile and laced her fingers back through his.
Sterling
Sterling felt like the ball was pulsing in her hand, a beast with a mind of its own that she couldn’t bring herself to tame. Usually, the movement was completely effortless and Sterling pitched perfectly without ever really trying. This time, however, the ball settled far too neatly in the zone, and Hannah B, arguably the worst batter on the team, managed to hit a homerun. Sterling let out a frustrated groan. She was completely off her game, and she knew exactly why. It was four days until the regionals game against Milton, and April fucking Stevens was haunting her.
It began during Sterling and Blair’s ‘Trashy Treats Tuesday’ 7-Eleven run. Sterling stood face-to-face with the candy aisle, eyes trained on the Skittles and mind ablaze with the memory of April picking out the green ones during 5th grade recess, smiling as she said “they taste different, Sterl.” It took Blair lightly punching her on the arm to pull Sterling out of her stupor, but the entire car ride home she found herself desperately trying to remember why that was one of her last good memories of April.
Now there she was, stuck in softball practice, with a completely scattered brain and uncoordinated arm. Fortunately, she was given an out after a few more botched pitches. Coach Hopkins, the only teacher at Willingham who ever cussed, insisted she “go the hell home” and shake off whatever funk she’d gotten herself into. She wasn’t sure it would be quite so easy to shake.
April
By Tuesday night, April had somehow slipped from the Willingham Athletics YouTube Channel, to Sterling Wesley’s Facebook page. She found herself scrolling through years and years of Happy Birthdays, Happy Anniversaries and Merry Christmases. The sadness she felt was unbearable, and frankly, completely unacceptable. She hated Sterling Wesley. She hated her, but for some unknown reason, the only thing she felt in that moment was a deep sense of loss at all the things she had missed. She couldn’t help but wonder what her old friend was like now.
In the years immediately after their friendship fell apart (entirely Sterling’s fault, of course), April had been able to observe her from a distance at Willingham. She watched her grow, but not change. Sterling continued to effortlessly follow the path laid out for her. Attending church every Sunday with her perfect family, getting straight As and loving the boy. April hated her. This girl who never had to fight for anything, who never had to feel so deeply displaced and miserable inside. Now it had been three years since she last saw Sterling, and April found herself wondering whether she was still the same meek Christian girl, if she was still stuck on the merry-go-round. She pushed this thought aside, forcing herself to return to studying Sterling’s pitching technique, desperately trying not to look at her hands or her smile.