1 | Victim Mason
"You fucking suck!"
"Your mom said the same thing to me last night, Jones!"
I slump back on the bench, protected from the heat that's shaded by the dugout. I'd be practicing with the guys, but one mishap and my wrist got seriously sprained. You'd think coach would brush it off, and tell me to man the hell up- but nope! He benched me. Said it'll stay like that until I'm given the all clear. That was a week ago.
They gave my position up to a freshman that recently made the team. He replaced someone who quit, for unknown reasons, and now he's replacing me. For that exact reason, is why I'm giving him shit on the field. That, and he's actually terrible compared to the rest of our starters. I'm not a mean guy, I just like winning. Guild University always win.
I squint my eyes when coach comes over- removing the cover to the dugout, so he could lean down and speak to me.
"Jones, enough with the commentary. I hear anymore of it, and you're benched! Healed wrist or not."
"You're always preaching about winning, coach! This...newbie will be our downfall!"
Before coach could scold me, Kian, my best friend, comes over and peers down at me. He pats coach on the shoulder, signaling that he'll take it from here. Coach's always glad to give me over to the sunshine pain in my neck. Kian gives me the same look that he's given me all week, and I return it with the casual eye roll.
"Fenton, you gotta stop this, man. Coach will bench you for real."
"I'm already benched."
"You know what I mean," he urges, "you'll miss the starting season if you keep this up."
I pretend not to care, but, truth is, I do. I really do. I'm not going to say baseball is my entire life like some movie, or book. Still, it's a big part of it, and it helps me. Keeps my mind off things, and it's there when I need a release. Plus, there's the winning and I so happen to be good at the sport. I'm not good at any other sport. Well, I'm good at running but I don't see myself doing track.
Kian knows he got me, which is why he sends a smug smile my way. I roll my eyes at him, again, not giving him the satisfactory feeling that he probably already feels.
"Whatever," I mumble.
"Why don't you teach the new guy how to throw a proper pitch, instead of tearing him down?"
"How'd he make the team if he can't even do that?" I ask, while taking my time to get up.
That gets me another look.
"I'm just curious! No hate to the man." Even though I've been hating on him all practice period.
My comments won't be the worst of it. Wait until he's in a real game and the opposing team throws insults left and right. Not to mention the people in the stands. The ones who aren't on the field always have the most to say.
I've gotten used to it all. Of course it still riles me up, but I've learned how to handle it. Don't blow up because you'll get a verbal warning- anything else, and you'll be benched for the rest of the game. Now I like to give them a smile that says "fuck you, but respectfully. Just kidding, it's disrespectfully."
Kian rushes me out of my comfortable spot, and gets me out on the field. Coach sends a suspicious look that's eased by the reassuring smile given by, no other, Kian. I'm directed to the freshman who's giving me dirty looks. For good reason. He turns away from me when I get close enough which doesn't hurt my feelings at all.
I walk around him so we're facing each other, "look, I'm sorry."
"Sure."
"I'm serious," I say, taking the ball from his hands, "I'm just salty that I probably won't be able to play in the starting season."
The guy looks up at me, as if he understands. "I get that, dude. Just go easy on me with the comments, ya think?"
I shoot him a small grin, backing up to throw the ball to him, "I think I can do that."
"Alright, now throw the damn ball."
"You can eat shit, freshman."
And that's how the rest of practice went. With us passing the ball back and forth- me pointing out noticeable mistakes in his form, and giving pointers. Coach seemed to ease up on me, and even thanked me for helping out Mason aka my victim for the day.
Kian and I help put the equipment back in the gym while the guys hop in the shower.
"You getting in the shower after this?" Kian huffs out.
"Nah, I'll take a shower at home. Got a paper that's due on Thursday."
"Seriously?" Kian throws his arm over my shoulder, "you've been working on that essay for weeks man, and it's still not done?"
"I've been busy," I answer, simply.
"It's a true mystery how you haven't flunked out of college yet, man. But, hey, it's working for you. Can't complain about that, right?"
"Right," I confirm, brushing his arm off me, "you stink."
Hearing that, Kian latches back onto me- his intentions clear. We wrestle for a little bit until one of the guys tells us that the locker room is basically emptied out. In other words, he was telling us to go the fuck home.
Kian rode with me today, so he follows beside me as we head out to my car. I unlock my car from a few feet away, so we can just throw our bags in the back, and leave. I make it to my car first, and throw my sports bag in the backseat before getting in. Kian follows suit, commenting about how much space my car has. It's tradition at this point.
"Stopping by the usual for something to eat?" I ask, reversing out of the parking lot.
"Nah, I'll make something later. I just need a shower and nap. Nyema's coming over later."
"How's that going?" I ask, turning the radio down to hear him.
"Good, man, she's great. We're great."
I nod along as he talks about his relationship, and some dates he has lined up for Nyema, his girlfriend. They've been together for a year and a half now, and he wants her to move in with him after they finish college. Nyema and I are cool with each other, but I wouldn't call us buddies. No bad blood between us; the two of us aren't around each other much. When she's with Kian, I'm usually somewhere else. When I'm with Kian, which is a lot due to baseball, she's somewhere else. She's still a nice girl from what I've seen and heard.
"What about you, Fen? Anyone caught your attention?"
"Not really," I answer, not having to think about it.
Not that I've been looking. Being in another relationship hasn't crossed my mind for a while, and I'm honestly fine with that. I like my space, and my personal bubble. Plus, I don't think I've acquired the right traits to maintain a healthy, long-lasting relationship.
The conversation ends quickly, though, when I pull into Kian's apartment complexes garage. He gets his bag before saluting as he gets out. I honk twice before backing out, and heading to my own apartment building. We're college students, but dorms didn't sound too appealing to us second time round. I got my apartment in my second year of college, and so did Kian. Only difference is that I'm a junior now, while he's a senior.
It's also ironic how our buildings aren't too far from each other. Kian gets his free rides when he doesn't feel like driving, and I get the luxury of him paying for breakfast. Gas in the exchange of food.
My phone rings as I pull into the parking lot of my apartment building. I answer as fast as I can while simultaneously parking, and grabbing my bag.
"Hello?" I ask, forgetting to check the caller ID.
"Fenton."
"Dad," I drag out, the beep of my car loud enough for him to hear. He knows my practice schedule, so it's no surprise that he calls when I'm done.
"How was baseball practice?"
"It was good. I was benched at first because of my wrist, but I ended up helping someone out."
He hums, and I use the moment of silence to move out of peoples way. I head to the entrance of the building, saying hello to some familiar faces. When he still doesn't say anything, I check to make sure that he's still on the line.
"Dad?"
"I was talking to your mom. How's the wrist?"
"It's good, I-"
"That's good. Make sure it heals properly, so you can play. I'll try to watch some games."
"Alright."
"Take care, I have to go."
"Okay, I love-"
He hangs up.
I shrug, and take the elevator to my floor before finally getting to my apartment. Remembering I have to shower, eat, and finish a paper has me groaning.
"Yippee," I drag, "college."
