"Is this okay?" Emma asked, pausing at a row with several open seats.
"Perfect, honey." Sandra settled onto the bench, grateful for the cushion she'd remembered to bring. "Anywhere you're comfortable is fine with me."
Terry had walked over to the fence where other fathers congregated, their voices carrying across the field as they encouraged their kids. Sandra watched him blend seamlessly into the group, his easy camaraderie evidence of the deep community roots that made this place feel like home.
Emma pulled a paperback from her small purse, a sign of long experience at sporting events.
"Not really into baseball?" Sandra asked, noting how Emma's attention was already drifting toward the pages.
Emma's cheeks flushed slightly. "I want to support Toby. I mean, he's actually really good. But honestly, I'd rather read than watch the games."
Sandra smiled, remembering her own teenage years. "Nothing wrong with that. What are you reading today?"
"A mystery novel about this girl detective who solves crimes adults can't figure out." Emma's eyes lit up with genuine enthusiasm. "It's really good."
"Sounds like my kind of book. Maybe we could start a little book club with some of your friends?"
Emma's face transformed with excitement. "Really? You'd want to do that?"
"Absolutely. We could read the same book, then discuss it over hot chocolate."
As they chatted, Sandra noticed Emma's gaze drift toward a cluster of girls near the concession stand. Their animated conversation and casual confidence were focused as they watched the older boys warming up.
"You know what's weird?" Emma said quietly. "It's so easy for girls who play sports to connect with the cute guys. They're all part of the same world. And then there's me, and they just think I'm a bookworm."
Sandra felt her heart squeeze at the wistful tone. She'd been there herself… the smart girl who loved books more than boys, who felt like she was watching life through a window.
"Emma, look at me." Sandra waited until the girl met her eyes. "Being smart isn't something to apologize for. Some of the most interesting, accomplished women I know were bookworms in middle school."
Emma's expression remained skeptical, then inclined her head toward the group of girls. "But they get all the attention."
"They get a certain kind of attention right now," Sandra agreed. "But you know what you're getting? You're developing your mind, your imagination, your ability to think critically. Those skills will serve you for life."
She gestured toward the group of girls. "There's nothing wrong with being athletic or social. But there's also nothing wrong with being the girl who reads mysteries and dreams about becoming a detective, or lawyer, or writer."
Emma smiled, tension leaving her shoulders. "Mom and Dad say smart is better than popular."
"Your parents are very wise. And Emma? The right people will appreciate your intelligence. The ones who don't, aren't worth your time."
Their conversation was interrupted by Karen Robbins climbing the bleachers, her daughter Olivia trailing.
"Sandra! So glad to see you here. Emma, Olivia's been asking about you."
Olivia perked up immediately. "Emma! Did you finish that detective book?"
"I did!" Emma's earlier insecurity was forgotten as the two girls launched into an animated discussion about plot twists and character development.
Sandra smiled, watching the easy friendship between the girls who shared interests.
"Mind if we join you?" Karen asked, settling beside Sandra with Zannie, the little girl she and Mark were adopting. "Mark's down there with Terry, probably discussing cases."
"Of course. Company's always welcome."
As the game began, Sandra found herself genuinely enjoying the community atmosphere. She waved to friends scattered throughout the stands, listening to the announcer's voice crackleover the ancient PA system as he called out players' names with the personal knowledge that only came from watching these kids grow up.
The familiar rhythm of small-town life surrounded her. Neighbors caught up on gossip, children ran between bleachers with hot dogs and popcorn, and the comfortable chaos of people milling about felt peaceful.
Sandra was so absorbed that she almost missed the commotion near the announcer's booth. A tall, silver-haired man in a polo shirt was shaking hands with officials while a photographer captured the moment.
