Hardball

So what's the catch?

*She looked at him wryly. He thought his stomach churned, but he steadied himself.

I mean, why are you sitting there. Taking in the sunrise?

Apparently, you must need glasses, because a, the sun's going down since it's nighttime, and b, I just beat the shit out of the other team by one run, and it's only been thirty minutes. Can't a girl rest?

How much rest do you need?

Less than you, I think. Are you waiting for someone?

No.

Just sticking close to the infield. Fantasizing about being the next Strawberry, Smith, or Sax. I will admit it is cool. The whole...atmosphere.

Yes, but I just noticed you were here, so thought I'd say hello. Plus, I was following that cat. The field, it comes here almost every day. Who does it belong to?

It belongs to the neighbor behind that fence there. They told me she lets it run free in the daytime, but it always finds its way back here.

How can cats be that trustworthy?

Trust has nothing to do with it. If it were about freedom, then they'd probably try to claw and scratch their owner before they ran. But with a free house and food, who wouldn't want to crash there every night. At least that's what she told me.

Who's she?

Camille Tower.

Uh, she's such a priss.

Why is that?

She's president you know, and when you're president, it's people like me that are blamed.

Maybe she just wants to make sure you don't get into trouble. I've hung out with her recently, and turns out she's super fun to be with. I mean, when she's writing another speech or organizing, no, but otherwise, she's nice.

*A small quiet followed. After staring at the ground for a few seconds, he looked back to her.

She was here today.

She was. She likes to come to all our final games. I mean, personally, I don't think this was my best, but we still won.

It was a hell of a home run.

Yep, and the water bottle slipped right outta my hand when I grabbed it. You'd think the sand would've made me dry. But you saw that? Surprised you came.

No you're not. You asked me to, and that was weird enough. But then you kept looking at the stands for someone, and it wasn't until you were running that last base and saw me in the corner that you bascially threw yourself to the ground.

Okay, hold on, hold on. First, I did not throw myself. And sec-

Yes you did. It was the most melodramatic thing I ever saw you do.

Well, I was just doing what it took to get us the win. Sorry if I got my hands dirty, but you wouldn't know anything about would you. And second, as I said before, since when is it weird to ask someone to come see a game?

Typically its not at boys like me.

We've known each other for three months know. It's safe to say there's nothing unique. You're just a boy, like all the others. One who did stupid things.

What's that supposed to mean.

*She rolled her eyes, and he likewise, took a large whiff of air. Her lips opened to say something but she shut them when they could not speak and instead intertwined her hands once more, leaning forward between her spread legs.

*At this moment, they both sat closer than before. Perhaps it was unconscious the movement. Still, neither of them noticed. They both sat there, expecting something.

So, it's getting late and I think that I see a baseball out there near the infield. How about you give me a few pointers?

*Not responding, she watched the grass to the right, scanning for something. Anything. Her mind was of perpetual contemplation which always needed to absorb new details, to observe or converse. Her friends had told her that she had what they called, 'The Gaze'. After her friends stopped joking, one of them explained how she never broke eye contact with anyone, especially if she was arguing a point. But this was a newsflash for her. Rarely anything was for her.

*Her mom didn't offer any better explanation. There was no syndrome for her precise yet relaxed demeanor. She said it was just the result of her studious approach to all matters, trivial or prospective. This put her trepidation at ease, as she considered anything resulting from books and academics had to be healthy. Still, people favored her mannerisms more than they were annoyed. She behaved as she always had.

*This instance was no different. She was just with a different boy. A reckless boy. A misunderstood one perhaps, but that's why she invited him to the game. She was curious. Thus, she was not afraid of further discourse. If not for her sake, then for her friends.

So, you're not going to tell me.

*He was looking at her before she looked at him. With his mouth ajar, he darted his eyes to the left and the right and back to her. She rolled her eyes once more. The kind she gave when Camille or Kayla talked about their overbearing parents or that ruthless physics teacher Mr. White. Such a shame, he used top be so suggestible, but now, his tolerance had vanished like the hair on his head.

It's okay. You don't want to talk, don't talk.

*His eyes traced the grass beyond the field in search of an answer.

I can tell you want to. You've probably got it in your pocket now.

Can't imagine there's any reason to talk-

Well, we're here at a baseball field, at night, alone, waiting, with nowhere to go.

*He held his breath for twenty seconds before being forced back to her face. Her eyes were ocean visage, like his. First time he noticed.

*Both their eyes were inspecting the crimson Mercedes CLS in the parking lot. Six spots to the left was a Honda. It now looked forlorn, a distinct lack of color that had been there minutes before. The trees had absorbed all the sunlight that protruded from the enclave at this point, leaving the cars without an expression.

*They met each other's gaze once more, and waited. He knew exactly what to say, but perhaps there would be a better way to say it. During time alone, which was most of the time, he would conjure responses to people like his family and friends as if locked in conversation. He thought in doing so he'd not only pass time that was leftover from working, but learn many arcane aspects of himself. He didn't always change, but he was always aware.

*That being said, he knew that in a situation where he'd explain himself, especially with an apathetic yet no less serious girl who subtly asked, he thought it best to reveal something private. This girl had only spoken to him a few times in the month, and consequently reasoned it would do no harm to meet share.

"Do you remember the Swartz's party a few years ago."

"I think so."

"I came there with my friends, Ben and Dane showed up on their bikes as did I, and of course, everyone else was there. although that party is hosted every spring, and the others wouldn't stop talking about it, it nearly got cancelled because of the rain in the morning, but it worked out. And there was that pool with too many kids in it, and all the rooms in the house became conferences, and that buffet that stretched from one end to another."

*Her confusion turned into intrigue as she listened. He was facing the field, but did not shift away.

"But to me overflow of crowds just seemed daunting. For a fifteen year old kid, just...daunting. But I went anyway. Had some laughs, met some people, some where assholes, but it was nice. And centerpiece of it all was Lindsey Swartz."

"Lindsey-Wait. Yeah I remember. Majored in business, went to Yale."

"Yep. Then later, I went to my bike but low and behold, a police cruiser is on the driveway. With nothing bad to hide, except maybe a pack of snickers, I went to my bike thinking I could get home for a nice rest. Then, I hear Lindsey's unmistakable shriek from behind me yelling, "Mom, get the officer. He's getting away."

*She was not sure what surprised her more: the story, or the passive amused look he had when he told it. She wanted to say something, but she didn't know what. Was she scared, sad, amused, sympathetic maybe? At this point, she didn't know. And he didn't seem to care. He glanced back to her every few sentences.

"Now, I, assuming it's a joke, pedal to the metal home. Then, I'm woken up at 3am to my mom and a cop downstairs. And then the rest is just....Shit. How could anyone, especially someone as smart as her confuse a black umbrella for a fucking 9 millimeter."

*Her face almost turned white. He turned back to her and gulped. Upon closer inspection, his passive look was really one of regret as deep as his eyes, which were satin pools.

"I guess the reason i'm telling you this is because, well...people never put themselves where I was. They stare at me, judge me, and they don't remember. They don't remember that they were like me. Just a kid who couldn't do anything right. I mean, they can't all be Camille's, some of them made mistakes. But now they've worked it out and they think they can judge me. It just.....it's not fair."

*The moment froze them in their state of borderline tension. She wanted to itch her bruise which seemed to sear as her heart rate rose. But she resisted. Too perilous and too precious to ruin the silence now. Whatever prompted his confession, she knew that revelations such as these came seldom often, and when they did, she knew enough to respect him.

*She saw his shake his head and clasp his hands together, and leaned in between his spread legs.

"Got a good laugh out of it though, and an apology from a police officer. Quite the win, I'd say."

*A peculiar yet fascinating aspect about him that she learned during their meetings at the school was how counterpoised he was. If he was attempting humor one minute, his mannerisms would swung to a more grave tone in an instant. Maybe it was something people said, maybe it was an intrusive reminder that he nearly forgot, or perhaps that was his personality. Keeping people guessing at his next move. It occurred to her right then, that he may have always been like this since the incident, and perhaps this was why he was so feasibly targeted.

"Shit, that's unfortunate."

*Replying with her own light hearted comfort was something she usually did with her teammates after a loss, which was rare, but no less impactful. But only after she said it did she realize he was not one of her players, or anyone's. No one let him be a player.

"Well, if this has been going on this long, maybe doing something good might get their graces back, and my bearings."

His hesitant addition of 'bearings' raised a brow on her forehead.

"You can still make things right."

"Huh. That's a little little league for you, Mike Socia. You think I've sat here on this sawdust bench with you, watching the sun die behind those trees, and not see why you're waiting.

*Her shrug was barely perceptible, but offered enough acknowledgment as was requisite.

"Look, that ring was just something Dane found on the ground. It looked authentic when he showed it and when he gave it to me as a gift, I just thought i'd keep it. But then, when I showed it to Kayla, she told me it was yours. Unless you live under a rock, you know how nuts that girl is. She just wanted it for herself. What was I going to do?"

*A mixture of a scoff and genuine laugh came out as her left brow raised.

"So you try and put the blame on Dane?"

"I've put up with enough shit from everyone. But I had a good thing going for a while. I actually thought until then that it had stopped. But knowing that ring was a liability, I just couldn't stand to get another slap. Sorry."

"Well, in hindsight, it's just a lost ring."

*He returned the scoff to her, consciously making it softer than hers.

"Wait, how did you know the ring was real when you saw it?"

"Well, I tried to bend it with my teeth but it didn't move."

"You chewed it!"

"No! I did not chew it. I just made sure it wasn't one of those plastic rings you get from the Dentist office. Like the ones at the plaza, you know the one."

"How many fake rings have turquoise opals at their center? Those fake ones are from Walmart, and all those are painted so thickly so they look fake. Who treats objects, especially ones that wind up on the sticky dust floor, like food? You should've took a better look or showed it to someone."

"Well I did, didn't I. And then the whistle nearly blew. Besides, if I gave it over, then they'd get credit for the ring then. Worse yet, they'd assume I'd stolen it."

*She rolled her eyes, fearing to venture into another absurd debate about perspectives. But this time, it was a softer roll.

"So, do you still have the ring."

"I didn't think you were the type for jewelry. But I guess that's because Kayla knows better."

"Didn't think you were a cool guy. Guess Dane knows better."