“Me,” I reply.
She shares a look with Scott Two, then they both sigh. Kiva nods to Hiramys, who also sighs and opens the door.
A moment later, a dozen or so boys tumble into the room. Some short, some tall, of all skin tones, all wearing matching T-shirts featuring a cartoon lion leaning on a baseball bat and lifting a glove. Most of them I peg as somewhere between nine and twelve.
A tall Black man enters the room behind them. “Thank you,” he says quietly to Hiramys. “This was a last-minute opportunity for us, and it’s a thrill for all of them, no matter what’s about to come out of their mouths.”
That’s all I hear before my full attention is taken by the boys. I turn on my Current Queen of Pop superstar smile and squat a little to be more on the level of the kids hovering in the small space between the door and the picture screen plastered with my tour logo.
“Oh my gosh, hi! Did you bring your whole team?” I ask.
“She knows we’re a team,” one of the kids whispers.
“Duh, Aiden, we’rein uniform,” another kid whispers back.
“You’re baseball players?” I prompt.
All dozen of them explode in answers at once as they swarm closer, smelling like pre-teen boys always do and making me smile at their excitement.
This is the oldest the boys usually get in the meet-and-greets. Once they hit full-on puberty, the teen years and high school, they’re too cool to admit that they like my music. So I make sure to smile at each of them individually, especially the bigger kid who’s hovering at the back of the group, staring at me with wide, unblinking eyes.
You never know anyone’s full story, and you can’t learn it in five minutes at a meet-and-greet.
I’m incredibly fortunate to be here, doing what I do.
It’s not only about the music either. My job is to bring a little bit of happiness and inspiration into my fans’ lives. I use my music and my platform to sneak into their subconscious while they’re still young and help them believe anything’s possible, that someone has their back, and that we can all be stronger and better and happier when we’re together.
Okay, yes, and that love’s hard, but also dreamy.
Which might be a lie.
Feels like a lie to me most days.
“We’re the worst team in the Little Sluggers League,” the kid I’ve identified as Aiden finally says over everyone else.
“We lostevery gamelast year,” the one that I think is Percy confirms.
“A ball hit me in the face one game.” Another boy points to his cheek.
“You leaned into the pitch, Harry,” someone points out.
“Wow, that was really brave of you,” I say. “Did you learn a lot last season?”
“No,” Percy says.
Their coach makes a strangled noise.
I smile at him too.
“Can I tell you a secret?” I say.
Twelve heads bob up and down.
“I knew a baseball player one time who told me that the only way you ever truly lose is by giving up, and that youhaveto lose big to fully appreciate it when you finally win big.” My stomach rumbles into full-onwe are not happymode. Probably because I mentioneda baseball player. I ignore it—or try to. He’s not here, that was a long time ago, and he can’t hurt me anymore. “Are you giving up?”
“No way,” Percy says. “We havepotential. We’re even getting a real baseball player as an honorary coach to help us out. But so far, he’s mostly fed us pizza, told us we’re awesome, and then left.”
“Like my dad,” one of the shorter kids volunteers.
