Page 8 of Convincing the Catcher

When my sugar level is high, I hate to play in a game because my mind isn’t super clear. I don’t feel nearly as sharp as I normally do, and my team needs me to be focused when I step onto the field. I’m their catcher, and despite what some people may believe, my position is huge. I can see everything, and it’s my job to make calls when they need to be called and to let everyone know what’s going on.

“Better than low, right, babe?” She smiles. “How are the Omnipod and Dexcom working?”

Just the way she asked about my management tools makes me wonder if something is wrong, but I don’t have time to ask because Coach Brawn yells that it’s time to go warm up.

“They’re working great,” I say truthfully because having the Dexcom has meant that my trainer can watch my sugar like a hawk, and the Omnipod is a tubeless insulin pump that lets me maintain my training. Even though I usually know when something’s wrong, she can confirm it or see it, even before I notice sometimes. “Gotta go, Mama. I love you lots.” I blow her a kiss. “Tell Dad I love him, too, and give him a hug for me.”

“I will, baby.” She sniffles. “Go do what you do. I’ll be cheering from home.”

Ending the call, I head out of the room. In the back of my mind, I’m still thinking about my dad. But right now, it’s game time. And it may only be a scrimmage, but we are all going to play like it’s the damn championship because we don’t know any other way to play.

There’s no way the runner on first base is going to be dumb enough to steal with two outs in the bottom of the seventh. Then again, we’re only winning three to two, and the girl up to bat has had a hard time hitting off Gigi today, so they may be desperate enough to try anything to get a run.

Part of me hopes she does so that I can throw her out at second base. It’s one of my favorite things to do. My blood sugar has cooperated today, and I’m feeling good. To start the year off with a win would be great.

I signal for a fast ball, and Gigi winds up. Seconds later, the ball flies toward me. It’s not her typical, beautiful pitch. No, this one is going to hit the dirt, and the runner sees it too.

Dropping to my knees, I block the ball, letting it roll into my glove before I turn sideways, throwing from my knees to second. Haven is already waiting there and catches the ball flawlessly in her glove, tagging the girl out just before she slides into the base.

The umpire signals the out, and the NEU Eagles burst into cheers. Gigi rushes toward me and leaps against me, squealing.

Haven is next, and once Gigi steps back, she full-on lifts me into her arms and screams frantically, “Let’s gooooo!”

I’ll never understand how someone so small can lift everyone on the team, but the girl is a freaking beast.

Nothing is better than getting the win, and this feeling? I’ll never get tired of it. Turning toward the camera, I wave before blowing a kiss toward it. Even if my dad is too sick to watch, I know he’s here in spirit, and I know my mom is at home, jumping up and down right now after that win.

Even in the midst of the excitement and celebration, there’s an ache in my chest. One that’s been there since my parents told me my dad has lung cancer.

A man who’s never smoked a cigarette has lung cancer. What the hell is that about?

Another teammate throws her arm around me, and I look to see it’s our left fielder, Tasha, so I plaster on a smile. Right now, I need to be present here, even if it’s hard.

FIVE

CANE

Sunday dinners are usually fun. This one? Not fun. Not fucking fun at all.

It’s been three days since I told my coach that it was me who’d fucked with the dugout, and let’s just say, despite him and the assistant coach trying to keep it private, word spread quickly. I suppose it’s because I’ve been banned from practice, so people just assume that means it was me.

My stepdad will barely look at me. My mom looks sad. And Cash? Well, he’s just pissed off. We rode here together, and he didn’t speak to me. Not once.

You’d think I killed someone with the way they’re acting. The only one who has been nice to me is my sister, Aviana, and I think that’s just because she feels bad that everyone else is angry with me.

“Thank you for dinner, Mom,” I utter. “It was really good.”

“Kiss-ass,” Cash mumbles.

“Don’t be a jerk, Cash,” Avy sasses to him. “That’s usually Cane’s job, and it doesn’t suit you.”

“That’s enough, you guys,” my mom snaps. “Also, he has a lot of ass-kissing to do for being so stupid. So … there’s that.”

“Damn right, he does,” Tripp agrees with her. Even if he didn’t agree, he’d agree. When it comes to my mom, that’s how he is. “Which, speaking of … when can you go to practice again?”

“Wednesday,” I say quietly.

“That’s it?” my mom hisses. “You didn’t even get a full week of suspension!”