Page 148 of Chasing Headlines
“Keep it that way.” Schorr groused.
I shrugged. “I don’t understand. I thoughtas your scout,my position was clear. He's the best second baseman you have on the roster.”
“It’smy team. He’ll get his shot in due time. But right now, he needs to recover.”
“Oh, one hundred percent. But, you know, if he were at leasteligible?” I shrugged and gave an imitation-Dubby pouty face. “He’s been passing all his check-ins with flying colors.”With the nurse at the Senior Center, who might be hard of hearing and in need of new glasses. “If Breslin got to dress out and was cleared to play. I’m sureeveryonewould be satisfied for the time being.”
Schorr glanced at Eberhardt. Raised eyebrows, and closed lip mouth twitches ensued.
“He’s been fine?” The less-curmudgeonly-oriented coach shoved his hands in his pockets.
“Practically perfect.” I smiled without batting an eyelash.
The two exchanged glances. Schorr nodded. “Deal.” Eberhardt grinned.
“Amazing.” I moved across the office and shouldered my backpack at the door. “I’ll let daddy know how supportive you are. I think Breslin’s you know, 'the one'. Daddy will be so proud. Maybe even call him ‘son’ someday.”And that may have been a bit over the top.
“Oh Lord, girls.” Schorr lifted his hat and scrubbed a hand over his head. “Nineteen and think you know everything. Let me tell ya something. I don’t give a rat's ass how good a baseball player he is, if he doesn’t treat you like a God damned Queen, you should dump his rotten kiester faster than Meyers can throw to third.”
Eberhardt chuckled. “He has four daughters. If you couldn't tell.”
“And a granddaughter on the way. You hear me, Milline? God, reminds me of all the times I yelled at Curtis.” He pointed at me. “Your brother better come see me.”
“I’ll shoot him a reminder text tonight.” I pulled my phone out of my pocket and held it up . . . like a complete dummy.
“Great. Now get the hell outta my office.”
“Ah, yes, Coach. I’m gone. Just, ah, forget I was even here.” I shuffled out the door and pulled it shut behind me.No really, never mention it.I booked it to the locker room exit, hustling out of the building, trying to make a clean getaway. I made it to the parking lot and stopped.Why did I do that? Idiota, estupido, why why why?
Was it some kind of bizarre sense of remorse? Or just because I wanted to see if I could get away with it? Maybe a little of column A. Some column B. But wasn’t I just making things worse?
What did it really hurt?Coop would dress out and ride the bench like a normal freshman with a better than average chance of making the team come Spring. And other than that, I needed to text Curt and tell him to visit Schorr.
He should probably wait until February or March . . . By then, Coop and I could have arranged a perfectly plausible “breakup” story—so no snoopy, overbearing coach would slip and accidentally tell big brother we were ever dating.
“It’s too painful! Never mention it again.”Wouldn’t that be just typical for a nineteen-year-old girl?Ugh. Terrible.
And in the meantime, I was going to use Dad’s Prime account to stock up on baseball scout memoirs, and rewatch Moneyball and Trouble with the Curve. Rent a hotel in the nearest actual city and spend my Thanksgiving holiday figuring out the recipe for a scout’s big break.
Cool. I had a plan.
The door slammed open. Coop took bounding steps around the side of the building and proceeded to make some of the worst retching and heaving sounds any perfectly healthy person . . . shouldn’t be making.
A sickening heat swirled in my stomach. I broke out into a cold sweat. “Oh no.”
He emerged a minute or two later. His pallor in the streetlamp lighting . . . entirely too pale.Oh God.
“Are you? Are you ok?” I moved closer.
He seethed and stared up at the sky. “I’m fine.”
“You don’t look fine.”
“It’s just a stomach thing. Probably ate something in the student center that didn’t agree with me.” He ducked his head and took gasping breaths.
My chest tightened. The acrid smell of . . . grossness did nothing to help the hot, churning feeling inside my abdomen. “You’re sure that’s all? Not the?—”
“I was cleared to play. Coach wants me dressed out. Only three other freshmen made the early roster. Can’t start but I at least.” He pressed his eyes closed. “I get a chance.”