Page 22 of The Third Baseman

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JUPITER

Fourteen years ago - January

Man, my life is great.

January in southern California; the weather’s a balmy sixty-eight degrees and today is my first proper practice of the season. My final school season.

And by the end of it, I’ll have been drafted to the greatest club in the world – the Los Angeles Dodgers. No question.

Because dreams really do come true.

Ever since I was old enough to hold a Little League bat, I knew all I ever wanted to do was play ball. Everything I’ve done since I was five years old has been with the singular goal of being the best at playing baseball.

Healthy? Probably not, but I’m happy because I get to do what I love, you know, in between the rest of the stuff that comes with being a teenager – school, a curfew, really annoying sisters, and semi-annoying parents.

But I have great friends, and there’s always a girl round campus who’d be happy for a hook-up with me. Hell, there’s usually a line.

And now, on this early Monday morning, there are exactly five months and twelve days between me and The Draft. My life will be a steady breeze of eating and sleeping baseball, and maintaining my C-average in order to graduate.

My professional career is inevitable, so why postpone it with another four years of pointless learning?

So yeah, life is great. Or it would be if my youngest sister would hurry the fuck up.

“EMERSON! GET YOUR ASS OUTSIDE!” I hollered, but kept the rest of my cursing to a low mutter in order to avoid my mom’s hawk-like hearing, and any part of my allowance relegated to the swear jar said younger sister had created last summer.

I could also do without the lecture from my mom thatgentlemen do not swear, Jupiter,before seven-thirty a.m. because if I’d heard it once, I’d heard it a thousand times.

Clearly it hadn’t sunk in.

“Jupe, you’re gonna burst your muscles if you keep hollering like that. You know, the ones you’ve been working so very hard on…”

I didn’t need to spin round to know my sister’s almost-more-annoying best friend was walking up my parents’ driveway. “How about you stop perving on me, Mallory? I know it’s hard for you, but you’ll get eye strain one day.”

“Yeah, you wish I was a member of that brainless harem that follows you about all day.” In my periphery I could see her cupping her face in one hand, before she put on a high pitched squeaky voice. “Oh, Jupiter, oh look at your muscles, oh look at how hard you swing your bat, oh you’re so handsome…”

She didn’t manage her next dig before she dissolved into a fit of giggles. At least she was amusing someone.

“You’re a dick, Mal, but whatever floats your boat.” I finally turned to look at her, and my eyes popped wide instead of rolling deep like they were about to. “Um, what the fuck is that under your arm? I know you’re not thinking of bringing that with you because I’ve already told you it’s not coming anywhere near my truck.”

“Keep your muscles on, Jupe.” She righted the surfboard she was carrying and glared at me. “You understand the purpose of a truck is to put stuff in the trunk, right? Emerson and I are going surfing after school, and we don’t have time to come back because we have a late math period.”

“Not my fucking problem.” I leaned on the horn again while I hung out of the truck window, “EMERSON!”

Mallory propped a fist on her hip. “You know, Jupe, based on my calculations, you owe at least fifty dollars in the swear jar from our delightful morning chit chat alone. I’ll let it slide and keep it between us, if you can graciously give me and Stevie a ride this morning.”

I looked at the clock on the dash; at this rate I wasactuallygoing to be late. I’d forgone my usual morning run in favor of one with my best friend, Jenson, at school, and if I was late for that, I’d be late for Coach, which he would not be happy about.

And this morning had started off so great.

“Who the fuck is Stevie? I never agreed to give any of your friends a ride! It’s annoying enough as it is to have to wait on you and Emerson! And you better tell her she has thirty seconds to get here before I leave you both.”

The horn blared out one more time.

“Stevie the surfboard,” Mallory replied nonchalantly as she heaved it into the trunk of my Escalade, ignoring my glare, and then climbed in the back seat.

I don’t know why I even bothered. Truth be told this is how most interactions with Mallory and Emerson went – me protesting, them doing whatever they wanted regardless. At least I didn’t have to contend with Piper, my eldest sister, as well, who was thankfully away at college. Then when she left, it fell to me to provide the carpool, hence my beloved Escalade truck I’d received for my eighteenth birthday.

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