The blazing fervent, July sun struck each and every person that afternoon, no matter whether they were on the field or off. There was no way escaping it's powerful rays. Each person was affected just from the heat, and with the intensity of the game growing, it caused everyone to feel the it even more.

The sweat glistened down his face as he removed his hat, running his fingers through his golden brown locks. He was in trouble. The game stood at a stand still and with him being the pitcher, everything stood upon his shoulders. 'It's your game to lose,' he could hear the distant voice of his coach resounding in his head. Just one wrong pitch and it could all be ruined. It was too late already. Things were said, tempers grew, and in the end she was gone. This was the one game he had waited so long for. It was all that he had thought about. Now that it was here, all he could think about was her.

He slowly drifted back into reality, and with that he bend over slightly placing his hands behind his back. His nervous fingers caused the ball to dance around in the palm of his hand while he waited for his signal. He shook his head as he watched Dylan, his best friend, signal him a fast ball. The count was full and the batter facing him was the same batter which hit the tying home run just a few innings earlier. Having been granted time by the umpire, Dylan made his way towards the mound where Fox paced back and forth, not taking his eyes off of the ground.

"Listen, Fox," he said quietly enough so only Fox could hear him. Dylan placed his hand upon the back of Fox's shoulder as they turned facing away from the batter and the other team. "You need to get your head in the game. I know how much this game means to you and..." he said pausing and growing unusually quite, "and I know how much she means to you. She's not here right now, Fox, but your team is. We need your help and if you can't do that I'm gonna have to tell Coach McCain that you can't play." Normally hearing such a thing from his own best friend would send some kind of emotion through him, but oddly enough he just stood there not caring at all if he was to be taken out. Dylan shook his head, not understanding why this one girl, out of so many others, had affected him this way. "Just do the fast ball," Dylan said placing the ball into Fox's glove and taking his place once again behind the plate.

He could feel the countless number of eyes staring down at him. This had never been a problem of his before, but today there was something disturbing about it. He didn't know what it was, it was just a feeling that he couldn't shake. Using the back of his hand, he wiped away the perspiration from his brows as his eyes then scanned through the large crowd, hoping against all odds she would be there. He needed her. No matter what he wanted, she didn't show up.

Feeling somewhat defeated, he hung his head down and let a tear escape from the corner of his eye. No one noticed the tear, but Dylan. Dylan had known Fox practically since they were babies. With both of their families being wealthy, they grew up in the same social ladder. They went to the same schools, dated the same girls, wore the same kind of clothes. They were what they liked to call, "Brothers separated at birth." No one knew them like they knew each other, and because of that it made it so hard for Dylan to understand why Theresa had put this spell upon Fox.

As he tossed the rosin bag in his hand, Fox couldn't help but think about how his life was so out of place. He compared his life at that moment to that rosin bag. When left alone, it's in perfect form, but once it's touched, it can be tossed around carelessly. With one quick rub of his hands against part of his uniform, Fox stared the batter before him straight in the eyes and...