“Smoke, drink, do drugs?”
“Oh my gosh!” Brielle squealed.
“Seriously, Brooks, it’s nice to have you around. I just ask for respect and honesty going forward. No surprises anymore, okay?”
I nodded. I mean, what else could I do? I laid down a wild card. It was appropriate, really. This entire situation was a wild card—and it was anything but honest.
“I’m sorry about my dad.” Brielle walked me to the door.
If I never played Uno again, that’d be okay, but at least I’d survived.
“He’s cool,” I said, but I wasn’t sure I really meant it.
“Bruh!” Reece bounded into the entryway, sliding across the tile floor on his socks. “Saturday night? You coming?”
“Coming where?” I shot a glance at Brielle.
“The team and guys who want to try out are playing a game for fun on the field at South Park.”
I didn’t think the field would be up to par for a real game at all. Spring was on its way, sure, but there were still patches of snow and puddles from the melting ice.
“After the game, we’re going to hang out.” Reece slugged my arm. “You can even bring your girlfriend.”
I shot a glance at Brielle. She was red, and I don’t know if it was because she was embarrassed or mad at her brother. Either way, the idea was no brainer. “Yeah, sure.” Awkward, I turned to Brielle. “You—uh—want to come?”
“Dude.” Reece lowered his voice, shaking his head at me. “You are the worst at this, aren’t you?”
“At what?” I asked.
“Dating? Sweeping a girl off her feet?”
“I don’t need swept off my feet,” Brielle muttered. “And yes, I want to come.”
She gave me a look that told me she was coming because that’s what a girlfriend in this situation would do. But she also had another expression on her face I hadn’t seen before—not that I’d known Brielle Walters that long, but it turned her from being embarrassed and stand-offish to almost dreamy-eyed and excited.
Reece laughed. “Ahhh, and there it is.” He nudged his sister’s shoulder with the heel of his hand, but he directed his words to me. “Watch out for my sister. People underestimate her. She might have her nose in a book, but when baseball season begins, she’s a whole other person.” He leaned in toward me to make his point. “Even Coach Priestly is nervous when she’s around. Brielle here expects nothing less than perfection from our team.”
“I expect the championships,” she countered.
“The championships,” Reece concluded. He flung an arm over Brielle’s shoulder and gave me a knowing look. “Hear that, Mason? That means no slacking. We got work to do.”
Did that mean Reece thought I’d make the team?
I hoped so.
I was at the plate, and I gripped the bat, determined to ignore everyone and everything but the game. I knew this wasn’t a tryout, but Coach Priestly had shown up anyway, and all of the guys playing were pretty competitive. No one was in uniform, obviously, but most of us came prepared with our typical gear. I wanted to prove my worth as a batter, not just as a catcher. So far, I was playing a strong game behind the plate, and while I hadn’t done anything remarkable in hitting the ball, I’d held my own. It was bottom of the ninth, and my team was behind by a run.
“Drive it!” One of the guys yelled at me.
I heard theclinkof metal bat against the chain link fence. “Pretend the ball insulted your mom!”
The dugout chatter was music to my ears. I might be in a new town, a new school, with potential new teammates, but nothing made a guy feel more at home than when his cleats dug into the dirt, and his hand slid into the familiar leather of his glove, or he felt the cool metal of a bat between his hands.
“We want a hit! We want a hit!” Some of the guys’ girlfriends chanted. I knew one of them was Claire, Brielle’s friend from Lit. Her boyfriend Hunter was on second base.
“We want a hit! We want a hit!” They kept cheering, and I think a lot of us were feeling a bit wild tonight. You could smell spring. The evening air wasn’t chilly like it usually was in the upper Midwest over winter. Now it was tipped with warmth, and even daylight was sticking around.
“We want a hit!”
