Page 59 of The Way We Swing

“Come say hi,” Zach said, his legs dangling over the edge of the sectional.

Gavin and Easton joined us in the living room. I sat up to make room for Gavin next to me; Zach wasn’t so gracious, so Easton took a seat on the floor.

“How’s my favorite third baseman doing?” Easton said, fist-bumping Zach. Our starting left fielder, Tom, had gotten drunk at a party over the weekend and somehow fallen down a flight of stairs, breaking his collarbone. Coach Berrios had moved Donovan to left, opening a spot for Zach on the infield.

We were also 16-2 and gearing up for our playoff run. The time was coming.

“Just glad to be starting now,” he said.

Easton looked at me, just briefly, and gave a quick nod. I held his gaze for half a second before answering with one of my own, small and stiff.

Gavin’s friends streamed in, and I recognized a few of them—Shaggy and a few other guys who had played on Gavin’s travel team as well as Jake and a couple of his classmates.

When the living room became a little too crowded—and way too loud—I motioned to Zach, and the two of us went to the basement.

“Any idea Easton was coming?” Zach asked as he handed me my pool stick.

“Not really,” I said. “You break.”

Zach lined up his first shot, hammering the cue ball into the front of the triangle. The balls scattered, but none fell into a pocket.

“You want me to kick his ass for you?” Zach said, smiling at me.

“Start talking about anything else,” I said. I missed my first shot, and Zach ended up sinking four solids in a row. I ended up losing the first game quickly.

As I racked the balls for the second match, Zach said, “It wouldn’t hurt you to talk to him.”

I looked up at Zach, getting pissed. “Why do you and Gavin keep saying that? This shit is on him. If he wants to be friends, he can say something. I’m done putting myself out there.”

“He asked about you yesterday after practice,” Zach said.

My mood lightened a bit. “Why?”

“Because he wants to see how you’re doing, dumbass.”

“What’d you say to him?”

“I told him he should nut up and ask you himself.”

I choked out a laugh. “What did he say to that?”

“Nothing. I didn’t give him a chance to respond. I walked away,” Zach said. He stepped into his shot as I smiled, imagining Easton’s face when Zach had said that.

We finished up the second game with me running the last three balls. We decided we needed to rejoin the party, so I followed Zach upstairs.

“There you two are,” Dad said as we reached the first floor, the shouts of a dozen teenagers piercing my ears. “Have you seen your brother?” I scanned the house and realized someone else was missing from the party.

“No,” I said, “but I have a pretty good idea where he is.”

“Go get him, then,” Dad said. “It’s time to cut the cake.”

I ambled to the back porch and opened the sliding glass door. As I stepped onto the deck, the chilly night air hit my forearms. The sound of ball on bat greeted me before I saw Easton throwing to Gavin in the cage.

I shook my head as I walked across the deck. “Gavin,” I said, “Dad wants you inside at the actual party.”

“One more round,” he shouted back at me between swings.

“Half a bucket, then you need to come inside,” I said. I shivered as I watched Easton throw the rest of the balls. The two talked for a minute inside the cage before they came toward me.