Page 19 of The Way We Swing

“They didn’t. I picked one guy off first and another off third.” Gavin beamed with pride.

"Good for you, Gav,” Easton said. “Any passed balls?”

“Not one,” Gavin said.

“Nice, dude,” Easton said. “I bet you start next year in high school. Ricky graduates, so you’ll have a shot.”

“I hope so. When are you going to come see me play? You’ve never been to any of my games.”

Easton looked at me, his eyebrows raised.

“Let’s go talk to Mom and Dad,” I said. “Maybe we can make it happen this weekend.”

The two of them followed me inside. Gavin bounced on his toes, trying to figure out what I meant.

When we got to the living room, Dad was in his chair with the Cardinals game on; Mom scratched through a sudoku puzzle on the couch.

“So, Mom. Dad.” I tried to sound casual, like this was no big deal. Like I hadn’t rehearsed every word for days. "How would you guys feel about skipping baseball this weekend?"

“That doesn’t sound like much fun,” Mom said. I'd clearly misread the situation.

I opened my mouth to continue my speech, and it came out all at once, like I’d tripped over the first word and landed in the last sentence. “Oh. Well, I think you should skip Gavin’s tournament this weekend and let Easton and me take him.”

“YES!” Gavin said, jumping in the air.

“Not going to happen!” Mom said at the same time. “I’m not letting you two make a two-hour drive by yourselves."

“We’ve driven to tournaments without you guys,” I pleaded.

“And there are always parents to chaperone you,” Mom said.

“Coach Messina will be there and I’m going to be eighteen in May. I can watch over Gavin for three days.”

“What if something happens? We can’t make Mark responsible for two extra people. That’s not fair to him when he’s trying to coach a team.”

“PLEASE!” Gavin begged.

“Honey, dear, lovely,” my dad said. “Could we talk about this for a second in the other room?”

“There’s not much to talk about,” Mom said, but she got up and walked into the kitchen with Dad following behind her. He glanced back and raised his shoulders and eyebrows, letting us know he had no idea how this would go.

“This would be awesome,” Gavin said. He swung an imaginary bat and ran around the room as if he had hit a home run. I glanced at Easton, and we smiled at how excited Gavin was at the mere suggestion of the idea.

Ten minutes later, my parents reentered the room. When Mom sat in her chair and picked up her sudoku, I knew Dad had won the discussion.

“Gavin, can you leave the room?” Dad said.

Gavin looked at me, and I flipped my wrist away to get him to go.

“Tanner, your mother and I talked about this,” Dad started again. A cough came from Mom’s direction, but she said nothing. “If, and this is a big if, we allow you to take Gavin, we are putting a lot of trust in you. You’re responsible for Gavin. If anything happens to him, it’ll be three times worse for you. You cannot rely on Coach Messina all weekend.”

My chest tightened. It sounded like faith. Maybe a test. Both?

“When they need to be at a game, you need to be there early. You need to make sure he eats, especially between games, and that you always have enough Gatorade. He needs to sleep. You are in charge and need to act like an adult.”

I nodded calmly, even though my palms were sweating and my foot wouldn’t stop tapping against the carpet.

“Absolutely. I’ve learned from Mom all these years,” I said. A little flattery couldn’t hurt.