Page 83 of The Echo of Regret

I grit my teeth. I’ve been enjoying everything except for that. Can’t say I’m a fan of the poison this kid seems to douse nearly every situation with. I wish he could just…see the bigger fucking picture.

Thankfully, I think I’m one of just a few people who hears him, his comment lost in the sea of adolescent male chatter and the clanking of weights.

“Alright, let’s wrap it up,” Rush calls out a few minutes later, bringing practice to an end.

The guys finish up at their machines or return their weights to the rack and create a half circle in the center of the room, looking at me and Rush.

“As you guys know, today was our last practice of the semester,” Rush says, holding his clipboard against his chest. “Fall Ball is officially over.”

There are a few hoots and some light applause before Rush continues.

“We’ll reconvene in the spring. I’ll be emailing you the practice and game schedule in the next week or two, so please watch for that.” He shrugs. “And I think that’s about it.” Rush glances around. “Thanks for a great few months, guys.” Then he looks at me. “Coach? You wanna say anything to close us out?”

I raise my eyebrows, surprised. I rack my brain for anything to say that might mean something after just two months together.

“I guess I just want to stress how impressed I am by so many of you, your willingness to take on board some of my feedback and welcome me in as part of the team. I’m not sure what the spring will look like, whether I’ll still be here helping out or when I’ll be heading back to Oregon, but I’ll be following along with your season regardless. I’m excited to see what you guys do.” I glance at Rush. “I think that’s it.”

He nods. “Alright, let’s do Pirates on three. Pirates on three. One, two, three, Pirates!”

The guys all cheer together, and there’re a few more hand claps before they begin to disperse, filing slowly out of the weight room and down the hallway toward the lockers. We make quick work of cleaning up the few things left out before flipping off the lights and heading down the hallway.

“So, I’ll see you Thursday morning?”

“Yep. Bring a dish from your mom again this year, yeah?” He rubs his stomach. “Last year you brought that homemade cinnamon bun thing, and I’ve been thinking about it ever since.”

Laughing, I nod. “I’ll see what I can do. Did Leon give any idea of how many guys might show up?”

Leon Walker is an alum from ’82 who has been the primary spearhead behind this game each year. The man is an icon, still hitting homeruns even though he’s in his sixties. He might struggle a bit more to get around the bases, but he can still hit.

“He mentioned RSVPs were a little light this year, and it doesn’t help that you’re out of commission, either.” He shrugs. “Who knows? Maybe it just becomes a homerun derby.”

I nod, thinking a homerun derby would be even cooler than a game—if I wasn’t injured.

Then an idea occurs to me, and I wish I’d thought of before, though I guess it wouldn’t have been possible until now.

“Yeah, maybe. I’ll see you later?”

Rush gives me a wave then heads into his office, and I turn back down the hallway we just came from.

Instead of heading to Gabi’s classroom, I jog over toward the locker room, relieved when I see Justin adjusting his backpack over his shoulder and trudging down the hallway in the opposite direction.

“Hey, Justin!” I call out.

He turns, his eyes widening briefly when he sees me before narrowing. Then he stands there looking extremely put out until I come to a stop a few feet away.

“What?”

Ignoring the attitude, I ask him the question that came to mind when Rush told me we might be short a few players on Thursday.

“You have any plans Thursday morning?” I ask him.

His nose wrinkles. “Sleeping in.”

I grin. “Well, instead of sleeping in, why don’t you come out and play with us?”

Justin’s head jerks back, his eyebrows rising high on his face. “What, in that stupid alumni game?” When I nod, he scoffs, glancing away and shaking his head. “Why the hell would I want to waste my time doing that?”

I shrug. “Why wouldn’t you?”

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