Page 24 of Totally Played
“Watch the ball,” I scream at him.
He cups a hand beside his ear and frowns, mouthing, “What?”
The pitcher sends another ball while he isn’t watching for another strike, and the crowd is screaming now too.
I stand up and cup my hands around my lips.
“Hit the dang ball!” I scream, and he nods, brings the bat up, his elbow high, shoulders down, and then when this ball comes, he swings. The crack of the bat when it connects is lost under the sound of my cheering.
Duckie cartwheels before landing on home plate as Calvin pauses on second base, a big smile on his lips and his piercing blue-gray eyes locked on mine. Then he points in my direction.
I’m definitely in trouble.
Chapter nine
Calvin
Irunacrosshomeplate, the crowd on their feet cheering, but I swear I can hear Ash the loudest. It’s stupid because with over four and a half thousand people inside the stadium, it’s highly unlikely. But it’s like he is cheering right beside me. Maybe it is because I keep checking he is watching me. I glance that way again as I wave to the crowd on my way back to the dugout. Rachel is still jumping up and down, leaning on his shoulder to get even more lift, but he doesn’t seem to mind.
Tim slaps me on the back on my way past to take a seat.
“Nice run for the parents,” he says, and my face grows warmer.
“Yeah, the parents… umm, you know, thought I would give them something to cheer about.”
When I pointed at the stands, I wasn’t looking at my parents or my sister. My gaze locked onto Ash like he was the only person in the stands, and then before I knew it, I was pointing at him, telling the crowd I was headed home for him. Good thing he’s sitting with the family, and everyone, including Tim,assumes that is who the run was for. I wonder if Ash knows it was really for him. Fuck. I don’t know what is happening with me. Why do I want him to love this game? I force my stare to the field and the game ahead, but it’s a struggle to sit still, my knee bouncing as each of our players steps out and tries to get us more points.
***
I jog out onto the field and take my position. While Antoine Masser scored us a run home in the fifth, giving us a two-point lead, it isn’t enough. We know better than to count a win before the last inning. I bounce from foot to foot, trying to keep my attention on the hitter as Ryan sends the ball. The batter clips it, and I’m right onto it, scooping it up and sending it straight to Pat on first. He’s out.
“Yes!”
“Nice one,” Duckie calls as some of the crowd boos. It’s the worst part of playing the OGs. They have such a huge fan base, and not all of them are good sports about losing. I glance over to Ash and my family. They clap and cheer, Ash waving when he sees me looking their way. I wave back, and the big screen camera is suddenly on me, and then my family, including Ash.
Rachel stands up and waves to the crowd, taking her opportunity to show off the dress she’s made. It’s become a pretty in thing in sports lately, women buying up bigger jerseys and making skirts and dresses, and more fancy outfits to wear. She made one in each of the Funky Monkeys and Animal Control jerseys, but Purple is her favorite color. I can’t blame her, it’s mine, too. And just now I see that Ash is wearing purple, too. A deep purple corset over a deep green long-sleeved dress shirt. The corset hugs his body, highlighting his hourglass shape. Thescreen flicks to Yoyo Leigh, the next hitter for the OGs, and I tear my gaze away.
Yoyo’s singing along to the music on his way to the box, one of the social media managers videoing him on a device that’s streaming him live online and feeding it to the big screen. He’s a crowd favorite and knows it, too.
“Hit him with a screamer,” I tell Ryan, referring to his fastball.
Ryan nods and lines up, ready for the second Yoyo has the bat up. He sends it down the line, and it hits the catcher’s glove a split second later. Shit, that had to be over one hundred for sure. There’s an audible gasp, and I can’t help but chuckle at the sheer shock on Yoyo’s face.
“Come on, Ryan, you got this,” I say, and two pitches later, Yoyo is walking back to the dugout. It’s a nice feeling for all of three minutes before the next batter knocks it out of the park for a point for the OGs. The timer hits two hours, and we move right into the ninth inning. I’d like to say we kicked their asses, but with every run a point, we get three, but the OGs get five. We’ve lost. Again.
***
“Tough game,” Dad says when I step out of the stadium player entrance. He’s waiting with Mom and Rachel, all of them wearing the same forced smile.
“You played amazing,” Ash says, and I spin to see him leaning against the wall, grinning, and I can just tell there is nothing about his smile that is forced.
“Thanks,” I say, rubbing the back of my neck with one hand. “I kind of hoped we could have given you a win, with it being your first game.”
“Second.”
“The replay doesn’t really count,” I say, and Rachel wraps me in a hug.
“I told him that, too. So, you hungry, big brother?”
