Page 70 of Chasing Forever
Jude tosses the clipboard on the bench. “You’re still batting fourth, so calm the fuck down.” He eyes Ben, shifting to Emmett. “You’re in the five hole, sorry, but you’ll have to work your way up again.”
“And when do you go down? I’m not so sure you should be in the third spot.” Emmett puts his hands on his hips.
Brooks gets in the middle, putting his hands between the brothers. “Okay, calm down, everyone.”
I admire him trying to get between them.
“You want to be higher in the order, practice once in a while,” Jude says.
Emmett groans and glances at the bleachers with Briar and baby Colter. Then he shrugs and crosses his arms, ending his argument.
“And Scarlett, you’re pitching, you’re good at it. Poppy, we don’t do pinch hitters, so if you want to play, you hit. Any other questions?”
No one says anything.
“One more thing… Brooks, you’ve got center field, and Lottie, you’re in left.”
“I’m sorry?” I ask.
Everyone makes a noise like, uh oh, Brooks…
I turn to Brooks and place my hand on his chest. “No offense, but I’m faster.”
“Maybe we should race?” Brooks winks.
“I’m still lead off. That says I’m faster.” I look back at Jude.
“Are you sure it’s not just because I can hit the ball farther?” Brooks knocks his shoulder to mine.
“What?” I face him fully now. “I had the highest average last year.”
“Actually, I did.” Ben puts up his hand, but I raise my palm at him to say stay out of it.
“From singles,” Brooks says, but steps closer to me. “You’re a great hitter, babe.”
“Babe.” Jenson knocks elbows with Bennett, smirking. “They already have pet names.”
“Well, babe, want to compare how many strikeouts you’ve had?” I cross my arms.
Emmett raises his hand. “In Brooks’s defense, that’s mostly because he bats after you, and he’s always staring at your ass.”
“Those in the five spot can keep their mouths shut,” I say, twirling to Jude. “I’ve always had centerfield.”
“Hey, Lottie, you can have centerfield on our team. Let’s goooo…” Walker Matthews calls from the other side of the dugout.
“Fuck off, Matthews,” Brooks shouts back.
“This is all getting out of hand,” Scarlett steps in, shooting Walker a seething glare before concentrating on us. “Does anyone else here want to deal with all the bullshit of deciding who hits where and who plays where?”
None of us says anything.
“Exactly. Jude makes the decisions.” She sternly looks at each one of us, waiting for us to nod. “Now, the enemy is that man today. Let’s put all our energy into shutting him the hell up.” She puts her hand in the middle of all of us.
We all put our hands on top of one another and scream, “Go!”
On our way to the outfield, Brooks runs alongside me. “Want to race to the fence?”
“Want to get laid tonight?” I head to left field, and he follows me, tugging me to a stop.
