Page 63 of The Fall Classic

That’s right. The Firebirds started a series in Miami a couple of days ago. Lucas is forty minutes away from me, and it hasn’t even occurred to me that I could have seen him this week.

Who are you and what did you do with Logan Fischer? I think.

“Logan Fischer,” Doug says, echoing my thoughts. “I’m talking to you.”

He sits down on the bench across from my locker, unfazed by the occasional nudity around him.

“Great game,” he says.

“Thank you, sir.”

“Is this the new normal or a blip?”

I catch myself before I choke on a laugh. “Uh, new normal, I hope.”

“You sure?”

My mind jumps instantly to Georgie, to the way she smiles in every selfie she sends with my hat on her head. Then, for a moment, even she fades away, and I have that feeling of connection with the ball—connection and release.

I look him straight in the eye. “Yeah. I am.”

“Good. We’re moving Hernandez to the injured list on Thursday. I need you in Chicago that night.”

That night?

I look at my cleats.

“Okay,” I say.

He nods before reaching a hand out and gripping my shoulder—brief but firm. “Looks like your head caught up to your arm,” he says. “That’s what we’ve all been waiting for.”

Then he’s pushing up, and a minute later, I see him giving Rojas the good news, and as excited as I am, there’s already a countdown happening in my mind.

Four days.

I could text Georgie right now, but I don’t know if that countdown will mean the same thing to her it means to me.

I pull out my phone and text my family.

Logan

Just got the news from Doug. I’m heading to Chicago Thursday night.

I stare at the screen. Did I actually send them all a message about getting called up with zero hesitation or fears about this backfiring and disappointing everyone?

Problem is, I’m not sure if that’s progress or—I think about Georgie⁠—

Avoidance.

Lucas

THAT’S MY BROTHER.

Liesel

Nuh-uh. That’s MY brother.

Papa Fisch