Page 74 of Chasing Headlines
“Your grades are good. I know midterms have a heavier weight, but step one, the foundation is there.”
I tried to keep my head up. This, more than anything, felt like defeat.
“What about teammates? Or friends?”
Don’t say it.“New team’s a bunch of assholes. Not like . . .”
“Coop, man. Sorry.” Cubby pulled his ballcap from his head, tears and dirt smeared across one cheek.
“Yeah, sorry. Sucks, man.” Riley gripped my shoulder and squeezed.
“You’re a good kid.” Coach Jay rasped. “You’ll make her proud.”
She sighed. “Do you have anyone to talk to? Be open with?”
I shook my head. Who would I even?—
“I want to play major league ball. No scout or team will touch me right now. But that'll change. I just have to . . .” I faltered for a moment when I met her gaze. “Make it so they can't ignore me.”
A small smile. “I'm sure you'll get there.”
I rubbed at my temples wishing I could go back and erase that conversation. Why did I tell Milline that?
” . . . about your mother’s death? Talking is a step toward healing, and you need to take that first step.” The therapist's voice was back to grating on my last fuckin nerve.
Never.Because if I didn’t . . . get over it, I couldn't forget.
I just can’t. Let her go.
Jimenez glanced my way as I dragged into the locker room. I needed to find my 'switch', the one that once I flipped it, my entire world narrowed down to just baseball. At least for a while.
I sat down on the bench and leaned back. Fatigue nagged at my brain, my shoulders and legs felt like lead. Maybe the damned mindfulness breathing thing would help. It was just breathing, and?—
“S'up man?”
And might,mightkeep me from punching this asshole in the face. I opened one eye. “What?”
“Hey, just wanted to say a Texas-official sounding 'howdy', ya know. To my teammate.”
“You're serious.”
“Come on, you've gotta lighten up. The only person who can change your situation is you, you know. And it's up here more than anything.” He poked at his temple. “I don't get it, I won't pretend I've walked any kinda mileage in your cleats, 'mano. But if you want to get on the field?”
He glanced around. “I heard Coach say that you need to start looking like a member of the team and not a lone wolf. I thought that was a strange analogy, but maybe.” He tilted his head. “Sometimes you do look like you might have fangs in there, 'stead of regular teeth.”
I glared at him while my stomach tied itself into knots with acidic lumps. “Coach said that?”
“You don't hang out with us, or joke around, ever. None of the impromptu team meals in that place that, I dunno man. I would've thought in Texas, we'd be getting primo steaks and we get chicken that seems like if they'd left it a little longer, it could've been jerky.”
I didn't need this. Any of this. But I did need to change . . . something. I was one more bad practice away from being sent packing, I could feel it.
And this guy was still talking about food?
” . . . maybe a good chili. Mmm, with some proper ají gustoso. Mmmm-hmm! What?”
I sighed.
“Yeah, Hilda made that face right before she agreed, finally, to go to coffee with me.” He raised his eyebrows and grinned.“I'm gonna beg our Reporter Chica for her bff-manual on impressing my future wife.”