Page 40 of The Foul Out

“And Christian Damiano? He’s afraid of germs and dirty things. The entire league changed the resin rules for him.”

Another blink.

“Emerson Knight? He has trouble focusing sometimes. He’ll walk right into walls if he isn’t careful.” I squatted beside her, not the least bit surprised when she didn’t look at me. I picked up a ball and held it out to her. “There is no set of rules that makes a person normal. Anyone can do anything they put their mind to.”

She took the ball and swallowed audibly. “Are there players like them on other teams too?”

“You know Corey Matthews? The New York Metros’ pitcher? He has dyslexia. He’s struggled with reading his entire life. And Bennett King, the catcher on the Rose City Roasters, is deaf. And Asher Adler from Atlanta is diagnosed with ASD just like you.”

She blinked twice and dropped the ball into the bucket. Then she was off, picking up another one. Rather than pressing her, I let the idea sink into her brain. Hopefully it resonated with her. Hopefully she’d recall it when she needed the reminder.

“Did you like any of the people who came in to talk to you today?” I asked as we finished up the ball collecting.

“Maybe the first one,” she said. Her tone was emotionless, but she’d answered quickly.

Huh. She was Cam’s favorite too. “Her name is Ashley. What did you like about her?”

“She didn’t smell, and she didn’t ask dumb questions. She does therapy like Ms. Temton does at school.” She picked up the full bucket and waddled back toward the front of the cages. “It’s three thirty. We are going back to the other room now, right?”

Once she’d set the bucket back exactly where we’d found it, I opened the gate and motioned for her to exit the cage. “Would you want to hang out with Ashley again?”

“When?” Without looking at me, she moved toward the door.

“After school most days. For an hour or so.”

“Why?” She turned, her lips tugged down. “Are you not coming here anymore?”

“I can’t come every day,” I said honestly. “I’m still playing baseball. I have two years left on my contract. After that, I’ll probably offer therapy like Ms. Temton and Ashley.”

“When you do that,” she said as we took the steps down to the underground tunnel that ran between the stadium and Langfield Corp, “will you do it with me?”

“I’d love that,” I said. I really would. “But we’d have to see what Mom says before we made plans.”

She was quiet as we moved through the hallways and when we stepped back into the Little Fingers rooms. Without a word, without needing reassurance, she shuffled over to the beanbag chair she’d been in earlier, put her headphones on, and just sat.

For a very out-of-the-ordinary day, Piper had been handling things exceptionally well. She hadn’t had a fit or tantrum since we arrived this morning. There were a few moments when she was on the edge, but she remained in control. That was a testament to both her hard work and Harper’s. After spending the day with Piper, I had to admit that Harper was raising an amazing little girl.

Dylan stepped up beside me. “You didn’t agree to the twins’ idea about posting the domino runs on your social media and having fans vote for the winner, right?”

A chuckle burst out of me. “Of course I did.” I spun to the redhead. “I gotta show off my team’s talent.”

She sighed and fiddled with the pink stone pendant on the necklace she always wore. “But Kyle, the twins and Piper are clearly gifted. They created a…” She waved her hand at their masterpiece. It was truly amazing. It was rainbow-colored, starting with red and ending ten feet later with purple. Every part fit the color scheme, and the twists and turns were perfectly spaced. “A very clickable social media post.” She frowned over at the other domino run. “And the other group tried really hard.”

I wouldn’t say it out loud, but it was borderline pathetic. It looked as if it had gotten knocked over again while I was gone, because it was only about three feet long at this point.

“You should have Cort post. Make sure the internet knows his son’s team built it.”

A deep growl sounded behind me. “Don’t pick on Liam.”

I turned, finding the giant man three steps behind me, holding his baby girl in the crook of one arm.

“You don’t think you can out-post me? Come on, old man.”

“Watch it, Streaks. We’re almost the same age,” he huffed.

“Nah, all those life points you’ve been collecting lately have added to your age.” I pointed at him. “Retired. Plus ten life points. Practically married.” I turned that finger to his fiancée. “Ten life points.” I nodded at his daughter. “Kids. Twenty life points. So by my math, you’re seventy-five.”

He dropped his head and gave it a shake. “You’re a moron.”

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