Chapter 3: The Girl He Remembered
The school field looked smaller than Alex expected.
He stood near the edge of the dirt infield with Rafael’s old glove hanging from one hand, watching a group of students gather around the coach near the dugout. There were no professional facilities here, no massive scoreboard, and no cameras waiting to capture every mistake. Just an uneven field, a few battered bases, and teenagers hoping to earn a place on the school team.
Alex almost smiled.
Twenty years ago, he had walked into stadiums where tens of thousands of people knew exactly who he was. Today, nobody seemed particularly interested in the quiet teenager standing near the fence.
He preferred it that way.
"Rafa?"
Alex turned and saw a boy jogging toward him with a baseball glove tucked under one arm.
The face was familiar.
Miguel.
One of Rafael’s classmates.
"You actually came," Miguel said.
Alex glanced at him. "Why wouldn’t I?"
Miguel gave him a strange look. "You haven’t played baseball in forever."
"I know."
"And you nearly died."
"I’m aware of that too."
Miguel laughed. "You sound different."
Alex paused for half a second before shrugging. "Maybe getting hit by a motorcycle changes a person."
Miguel seemed satisfied with the explanation.
"Fair enough."
They started walking toward the other players. Alex kept his attention on the field, studying the teenagers as they warmed up. Some were throwing with teammates, others were taking practice swings, and a few were already acting as though they had made the roster.
Alex recognized the types immediately.
Every baseball team had them. The loud ones who wanted attention, the quiet ones who simply wanted to play, the nervous ones trying not to embarrass themselves, and the confident ones who already believed they were better than everyone else.
He had been all of them at some point during his career.
"Rafa!"
The voice came from behind him.
Alex stopped.
Something strange happened before he even turned around.
His chest tightened, and his pulse suddenly quickened.
He slowly looked over his shoulder.
A girl stood several steps away with a school bag hanging from one shoulder. Her long dark hair was tied loosely behind her, and she had a familiar expression that made Rafael’s memories react before Alex could process what was happening.
The name surfaced almost immediately.
Mia Reyes.
Seventeen years old.
Classmate.
Neighbor.
Childhood friend.
And apparently, something more.
Alex stared at her for a moment as another memory surfaced. A younger Rafael sitting beside Mia during elementary school. Sharing snacks. Walking home together. A birthday party. A school program. A note Rafael had written and never given her.
Alex’s expression tightened.
"Oh, you’ve got to be kidding me."
Miguel looked at him. "What?"
"Nothing."
Mia walked closer, her eyes settling on him.
"You came."
Alex nodded. "Yeah."
She smiled. "You look better."
"Thanks."
There was an awkward pause.
Alex had faced hostile pitchers, angry managers, reporters trying to provoke him, and teammates demanding answers after terrible losses. None of those situations had prepared him for the strange discomfort he felt whenever Mia smiled at him.
Rafael’s body was reacting before Alex could decide how he should react.
Mia glanced toward the field. "I heard you were trying out."
"That’s the plan."
"You’ve never played baseball seriously."
"I know."
She tilted her head. "You used to say basketball was your sport."
Alex looked at her, and another fragment of Rafael’s memory surfaced.
"You were right," he said. "Things change."
Mia smiled slightly. "They really do."
Something about the way she said it made Alex wonder how much Rafael had changed even before the accident.
He looked away.
This was ridiculous.
Alex Sterling had been thirty-eight when he retired, then fifty-eight when he died. He had spent two decades as a retired baseball legend, and now he was seventeen again, standing on a school field while the body of a teenager reacted to a girl he had known since childhood.
He rubbed the back of his neck.
Mia noticed.
"Are you okay?"
"I’m fine."
She smiled. "You keep saying that."
Alex almost laughed.
Apparently, Elena wasn’t the only person who had noticed.
Before he could answer, a whistle sounded across the field.
The coach raised one hand.
"Everyone on the line!"
The players began gathering.
Alex followed Miguel while Mia remained near the fence. He could still feel her watching him, which only made him more determined not to look back.
That was another problem.
He couldn’t control what Rafael’s body remembered.
But he could control what Alex Sterling did with it.
At least, he hoped he could.
The coach introduced himself as Daniel Cruz.
He looked to be in his forties, with a broad frame and the expression of someone who had spent enough years coaching teenagers to know exactly how much trouble they could cause.
"Listen carefully," Daniel said. "This isn’t a popularity contest. I don’t care who your parents are, how many points you scored in basketball, or how good you think you are. I want players who listen, compete, and make my job easier."
Several players straightened.
The coach pointed toward the first group. "Throwing first. Pair up."
The students spread across the field.
Alex joined Miguel.
The first throw came toward him. He caught it cleanly and studied the ball for a moment before throwing it back.
The velocity was ordinary.
Miguel caught it and nodded. "Not bad."
Alex nodded as well, but he wasn’t satisfied.
He tried again, this time paying attention to the mechanics. Arm slot. Shoulder position. Lower-body movement. Release.
Better.
Still not impressive.
Throwing was going to need work.
Daniel walked past and watched several pairs before stopping near Alex.
"Rafael."
Alex looked over.
"Yes, Coach?"
"You’ve played before?"
"Not much."
Daniel watched his throwing motion for another second. "I can tell."
A few players laughed.
Alex didn’t react.
The coach simply moved on.
That was fine.
No attention.
Not yet.
Batting practice came next.
Alex stood behind the line and watched the other players hit. The first batter swung too hard at everything. The second made decent contact but had poor balance. The third had quick hands but almost no patience.
Alex didn’t consciously analyze them.
He didn’t need to.
Twenty years of professional baseball had turned that process into instinct.
He could see weaknesses before he even thought about them.
Then someone called his name.
"Rafael!"
Alex picked up the bat.
The familiar weight settled into his hand.
For a moment, everything else disappeared.
Not nostalgia.
Recognition.
He walked toward the plate.
Daniel stood several feet away, watching him.
"Three swings," the coach said. "Don’t try to impress me. Just hit."
Alex almost smiled.
If only the coach knew.
He stepped into the batter’s box.
The pitcher delivered the first ball.
Alex watched it all the way in.
Fastball.
Middle.
Too easy.
He let it pass.
Strike.
Several players murmured.
Daniel’s eyes narrowed slightly.
The next pitch came low.
Breaking ball.
Alex watched it drop beneath the zone.
Ball.
His eyes remained fixed on the pitcher.
The third pitch was a fastball inside.
Alex’s hips turned.
The bat met the ball cleanly.
CRACK!
The line drive shot toward left field and bounced deep against the fence.
Alex lowered the bat without watching the result.
He already knew the contact was clean.
Daniel looked toward left field, then back at him.
"Again."
Alex returned to the plate.
The next pitch was a curveball.
He recognized the spin immediately.
The old instincts came alive.
He waited until the last possible moment before turning on it.
CRACK!
This time the ball cleared the left fielder’s head and rolled toward the far end of the field.
A few players shouted.
Miguel simply stared.
Alex lowered the bat.
The body wasn’t ready for professional-level power.
But the timing was still there.
The vision was still there.
The knowledge was still there.
Apparently, that was already enough to get people’s attention.
Daniel pointed toward the dugout.
"Rafael."
Alex looked over.
"Yes?"
"Don’t leave."
Alex nodded.
He knew exactly what that meant.
The coach had questions.
Good.
Questions were useful.
They meant someone had noticed.
Mia was still standing near the fence when Alex walked away from the plate.
He noticed her before he could stop himself.
She was smiling.
Not the polite smile from earlier.
A real one.
Rafael’s memories stirred again.
A younger version of him watching Mia play volleyball. A birthday gift he had saved money to buy. A message he had typed and deleted several times because he couldn’t find the courage to send it.
Alex sighed internally.
This was going to become annoying.
Mia walked toward him while the next group started batting.
"You didn’t tell me you could hit like that."
Alex looked at her. "I didn’t know either."
She laughed. "That’s not true."
"It is."
"You used to play baseball when we were kids."
"That was a long time ago."
"You were terrible."
Alex stared at her.
"Thanks."
She laughed again.
For some reason, Alex found himself smiling.
Then he caught himself and looked away.
Mia noticed.
"What?"
"Nothing."
"You keep saying that too."
Alex shook his head. "You talk a lot."
"You used to like that."
The words came casually.
Alex froze.
Mia seemed to realize what she had said at almost the same moment. Her smile faded slightly, and for a second neither of them knew what to say.
Then Miguel shouted from across the field.
"Rafa! Coach wants you!"
Alex exhaled.
Saved.
He started walking toward Daniel.
Behind him, Mia called out.
"Good luck."
Alex looked back.
She smiled.
He nodded.
"Thanks."
Then he continued toward the coach, making a deliberate effort not to look back again.
Daniel waited until the other players were occupied before speaking.
"Where did you learn that swing?"
Alex shrugged. "Basketball."
Daniel stared at him.
"Basketball?"
"It helps with movement."
"That’s not what I asked."
Alex smiled faintly. "I don’t know."
The coach studied him for several seconds.
"You’re telling me you’ve barely played baseball, you nearly died recently, and today you suddenly hit two balls harder than most of the players here."
Alex remained quiet.
Daniel crossed his arms.
"Something changed."
Alex looked toward the field before answering.
"Maybe I just got tired of being bad."
Daniel’s expression didn’t change.
"That’s a strange answer."
"It’s the honest one."
The coach watched him for another moment before nodding.
"Come tomorrow."
Alex raised an eyebrow. "Tomorrow?"
"Private evaluation. Batting, plate discipline, running, throwing, fielding, reaction, conditioning. Everything."
That caught Alex’s attention.
"Okay."
"You sure?"
"Yes."
Daniel nodded. "Then don’t be late."
Alex walked away, but his mind was already somewhere else.
Tomorrow would be the first real test.
For the first time since waking up in Rafael Santos’s body, Alex Sterling would find out exactly how much of the player he used to be could still exist inside seventeen-year-old Rafael.
He glanced toward the fence.
Mia was still there.
She caught him looking and smiled.
Alex immediately looked away.
He had handled championship games more comfortably than this.
And somehow, he suspected that was going to become a problem.
End of Chapter 3