AllFreeNovel
Share Us
It’s our week-long baseball clinic we have every summer, trying to keep everyone in shape and ready for the spring season. One weekend a month during the school year, we also have a clinic.
I’ve been nervous about this for the last few weeks. It’s the first time I’ve picked up a baseball since the party. I tried to tell myself I was psyching myself out, noticing things that weren’t there. But I wasn’t. That’s obvious based on how shitty I’m pitching.
“Yeah, Coach?” I say, jogging over to him like I don’t know what’s going on.
“What the hell is going on with you? I haven’t seen you throw like that—ever. Hell, you pitched better than that in the sixth grade. It’s your senior year. We’ve been talking to college coaches. So, you want to tell me why you’re throwing like trash? Are you in your head or injured?”
Both.But for me, the first is far more manageable. The mound is usually my safe space. I can tune everything else out if I’m standing up there. But today, I’m thinking about how crappy I’m throwing, which is making me think about how I got here—and Rae.
Not wanting him to worry—and hoping I can pull it together throughout the week—I tell him, “I’m fine. I’ve had some stuff going on lately. I’m trying to get out of my head, but my hand is feeling stiff, and the combination is messing with me.”
He nods. “I know it doesn’t fit the gruff coach MO, but I’m here if you need to talk.”
I chuckle at that. “It’s not… me,” I say honestly. “I’m worried about a friend.”
His brow furrows, then he softens, and I assume he knows exactly who I’m talking about. I’ve never been subtle when it comes to Rae.
“Well, go see the trainer and get some heat for your hand if it’s stiff. Listen to some music, or watch some TikTok—whatever it is you kids do—to relax.”
I give him a nod. “Sure thing, Coach. Thanks.”
“Get out of here.”
I jog toward the tent where our athletic trainer is, as Joel falls in step with me. “Everything okay?”
“Fine.”
He stops and grabs my shoulder. “I’m not an idiot. Iknowwhat’s going on. Your hand. Rae. Which is it?”
I roll my eyes.
“Both. Got it.”
Pain in my ass.
“My hand is just stiff. It’s my first time throwing after punching that guy. And of course, I’m worried about Rae. I’ll get some heat and work on conditioning my hand more. I’ll be fine by the end of the week.”
I hope.
His brow furrows. “Is that what you believe? Or what you’re telling yourself? Maybe you need to tell Coach—”
“My hand is fine. It’ll be fine.” It has to be. Because I don’t know who I am without baseball.
Joel holds his hands up as his shoulders soften. “I’m sorry. I’m not trying to piss you off. I want to make sure you’re doing what you need to do for you. When you worry about shit, you get tunnel vision—especially if it involves Rae. If you need to do something more to take care of your hand, please do it.”
At that, I relax and put a hand on his shoulder. “I appreciate that. Let me see how I do this week, okay?”
“Yeah. Of course.”
“Hey,” Nick Ardito says, strolling over to us. He was on fire hitting today. “You two finished making out?”
“Wow, you’re hilarious,” Joel deadpans. “I gotta get back to the field. Later.”
“You okay?” Nick asks as Joel jogs away.
“I’ll be fine.”
“Right.”
