by Kim Oclon
“Wow, you’re just jumping in headfirst, aren’t you?” Allie walked up to me, chuckling to herself. “Coming out to me the other day… joining the GSA today. Maybe you’ll decide to hang up those baseball cleats and try out for the musical instead. It’s Oklahoma! this year.”
She had on her uniform of skinny jeans, a plaid shirt, and some band T-shirt. “No, I’m not going,” I said. “I was just passing by.”
“And stopped right outside the door in the middle of a really long step?” Allie raised an eyebrow.
I smiled. “No, the girl in the rainbows was telling Ms. Larson an interesting story and I might have listened in.”
“Oh, you’re just spying on us then.”
“She’s going to tell the story later on.” I turned to face Allie. “You’ll like it.”
“What the hell happened to you?”
I had forgotten about my eye. It didn’t look nearly as bad as I thought it was going to, but it probably still shocked someone who wasn’t expecting it. “I ran into someone.”
“Ran into someone’s fist?”
“It ran into me.” I shrugged.
Allie craned her neck to see the clock near the door in Ms. Larson’s room. “Well, I think we’re going to get started soon so I better go in. You know, new members are welcome any time.”
“I’ve heard.” I felt like I swallowed something without really chewing it as I remembered the last time someone invited me to a SAFE meeting.
“I know there’s not a lot of us in there.” Allie jerked her neck towards the lopsided circle that wasn’t quite filled in with students. The two girls with the phones sat by one another. Anna stood at the board drawing something with one of the many markers. “But there are some of us and that’s better than none, right?”
“True,” I nodded, suddenly feeling a nervous energy pulse in my stomach, the kind I usually only got when I was up to bat with the game on the line.
“See you later,” Allie said, ducking into the classroom and taking a seat on the opposite side of the girls.
Glancing at the clock, I guessed I had at least seven minutes before Tyler would be out of the track meeting. More than enough time. I rushed down the hallway, as if about to be late to class. The boy with the swoosh of hair across his forehead and the turquoise and black hoodie plodded towards me. “Hey, Will,” I said, racing past him.
“Hey,” Will looked at me. “How do you know my name?”
I didn’t get a chance to answer because I was already too far away from him. I suddenly thought of something I needed to do at this exact moment. Something I should have done from the beginning and finally found the balls to do.
When I swung open the door to the athletic office, Mrs. Carlson put her hand to her chest and her eyes widened, but she quickly folded her hands on the desk and smiled a hesitant smile. I guess I scared her when the office door thudded off the wall as I opened it.
“Hello. David, right?”
“Uh, yeah,” I walked up to her desk. “Is Coach Kelly in his office?” My hand beat against the side of my leg like I was in the middle of a crowd at a rock concert.
Mrs. Carlson looked at the closed door. “I believe he is. Would you like to speak to him?”
“Yeah.” I continued to slightly bob up and down. “Can I go in?”
Mrs. Carlson glanced at the phone on her desk. “Well, he’s been on the phone for quite some time but let me tell him you’re here and see if he wants you to wait or come back later.” She scooted her chair back. “David…Lukas is it?”
“Yeah.”
“Have a seat.”
While I bobbed my way over to the chairs opposite Coach Kelly’s door, Mrs. Carlson poked her head inside the office and emerged a few moments later.
“Just give him a few minutes.” She sat back down at her desk. “He’s just about finishing up.”
I took my eyes off of Coach Kelly’s office door and saw Mrs. Carlson staring at me. Maybe the fading colors swirling around my eye caught her off guard. She pretended to be overly concerned about straightening the piles of paper on her desk, making sure not one corner was out of place. Maybe she thought I was pretty weird, bouncing into the office like a super ball but I’d never felt this way before. Not before giving a speech in class, not before a big at-bat, not even when I came out to Dad on the porch last summer. I had told him then that I didn’t know how this worked and I still didn’t. But what I was doing definitely wasn’t working. It got me into a fight with my boyfriend, made me possibly lose my best friend, and let the biggest dick in school hold something over me that he had no right to.
Sensing that Mrs. Carlson would prefer if I looked somewhere else, my gaze fell on the shrine to Carl Howell who did get the call up to Triple A ball. Mike told me a few days ago and thought it would be pretty cool if everyone could take a little road trip to catch one of his games in Indianapolis where the team was based. Maybe they could even get Coach to drive one of the team vans.
That was before Mike didn’t even want to sit in the cafeteria with me.
The sound of the door to Coach Kelly’s office being opened pulled me back into the athletic office. “Coach, hi.” I jumped up, waiting for Coach Kelly to officially say I could come inside.
“Oh Christ, you too?” Coach Kelly sighed.
“What?”
Coach Kelly opened the door a little wider so I could go into the office. “Get in here.”
I stepped inside and stood next to the familiar plastic chair, opting not to sit down. I would lose my nerve if I did.
“Did Kaminski do that?” Coach Kelly leaned against his desk, his hands folded around the bottom of his belly.
“Do what?”
“I’ve been on the phone all afternoon with Mr. Landry. I’m assuming you heard about…an altercation of sorts took place between Kaminski and…someone on the track team last week.” Coach shook his head like a frustrated parent.
“I’m aware, Coach.” I felt my energy waver slightly and rushed on. “But that’s not why I’m here. I came to tell you something.”
“And what is that?”
“Well, Coach, I just want to say it to you. I know you know but it’s not the same.” The team pictures behind the desk caught my eye again and I wondered what this year’s photo would look like. Coach Kelly was about to say something, but I cut him off. “I am gay, Coach. I am.” Like a basketball that was slowly coming to a stop, I stopped bouncing. All of my energy went into those two little sentences and suddenly, I was tired. But I felt pretty good too. “And I don’t know what Kevin and his dad wants to do with that but I want to play baseball. I need to play baseball.”
Coach Kelly’s eye twitched. “I know.”
“Nothing else has anything to do with that.”
I waited a second for him to say more, but Coach stopped after two words. He just leaned on his desk, holding his belly. I wasn’t expecting a pat on the back or a high five, but I didn’t know what to do with Coach Kelly’s stare and silence.
“Well, I don’t know what Kaminski and his dad can do,” Coach finally said.
That sounded somewhat positive. I waited for Coach to go on.
“Anything else?” he asked
“Well,” I started walking towards the office door and reached for the handle. “I guess I’ll see you on Monday at tryouts.”
“I shouldn’t be telling you this but you’re going to find out soon enough once it gets out. Kaminski got suspended for seven days for what he did.” I couldn’t read Coach Kelly’s tone of voice. He didn’t sound angry, or frustrated, or glad. It sounded like he was explaining why the infield fly rule was called.
“Good,” I said.
“Who did that to you?” Coach jutted his chin at my face.
I brought my hand to my eye, feeling the tenderness that covered my eyebrow and cheek. It was healing but I guess it was still noticeable. “Weight room accident.”
“Look David,” Coach Kelly said, “you have a lot riding on th
is season and quite a few distractions have popped up for the last couple weeks. Kaminski and his dad aside. Do you think you can handle it? I’ve seen players sabotage themselves at the thought of a scout in the stands, let alone the prospect of playing college ball and…everything else you have going on.”
“I had a good season for you last year, Coach. I plan on having an even better one this year,” I responded, trying to figure out if Coach Kelly was being supportive or trying to get me to quit to get Kevin and his dad to shut up.
“I hope so.”
It was one thing to bound into the office and make a declaration when it was just me and Coach. But practices, games, bus rides, and lunch breaks during double headers were going to be a completely different story. I might have felt brave in this moment, in the confines of an office with the door closed and only Coach Kelly around, but I had no idea what was in store once the season started.
Would Mike do the warm-up routine with another partner even though we’d always done it together? Would I get high fives after trotting back to the dugout after scoring a run? Would a school renege on their offer or not even make one on the grounds that there are many talented prospects and I “just didn’t make the cut?”
I put a hand on the door handle and pushed down, but held the door shut for a moment. “Well, see you at tryouts, Coach.”
“See you on Monday, 5:30. Be ready to go.” Coach Kelly pushed himself off the desk and walked around to the other side.
“I will be.” I pulled open the door and walked out of the office, remembering how I told Allie that I didn’t want this to be a big deal. Coach not jumping up and down or kicking me out of the office meant it wasn’t a big deal, right?
As the office door latched shut I thought that this what a closer must feel like after only facing one batter and ending the game. The anticipation, the energy that builds up in your body for such a short time and then it was over.
“It took guts to go in there like that.” Mrs. Carlson nodded towards Coach Kelly’s door.
“You can hear everything going on in there?” I wondered what else Mrs. Carlson might have overheard.
“If it’s really quiet in here. I try not to eavesdrop, but sometimes it’s impossible,” Mrs. Carlson explained. “I’m sorry if I was out of place by giving you that pamphlet.”
“It’s okay.” I shrugged, honestly forgetting about that moment until just now, and headed for the door.
Mrs. Carlson carefully put down her stack of papers. “And I’m sorry if it was even more out of line to talk to Ms. Larson about you.”
I stopped, midstep. “That was you?”
Mrs. Carlson distracted herself by putting a couple stray pens back in its cup and moving a picture frame on her desk a couple inches over.
“I have a nephew…You reminded me of him.”
“He plays baseball too, huh?” I let out a fake laugh and swung open the door. “I hope he has an awesome season.”
CHAPTER 27
TYLER
After a three-minute warm-up, I increased the speed on the treadmill to eight miles an hour, feeling the even rhythm of my feet slapping the rubber one after another. Track started tomorrow. Baseball started tomorrow. David and I had a lot to prove this season. I took third in State last year in the 3200 because my leg cramped up during the last half lap. That wasn’t going to happen again. I’d been working on my final kick all year. At least the laps on the track last summer were good for that.
And David, he had a lot riding on this year too. More than just a scholarship that I wish I could magically find for him. I wish I could tell him everything was going to be fine but I never believed that line when someone said it to me. I don’t think anyone does.
I turned on my running playlist. Looking at the beige basement walls reminded me that I was stuck inside, going nowhere like a hamster on a wheel. But if I looked between the machine and floor and turned up the bass of the electronic music I liked to listen to when I ran, the walls and the machine seemed to fade away.
It was easy to get lost in the noise and beat. And pretty soon my feet were moving on their own and my mind turned off. All I heard was the bass, pounding in perfect time with my stride.
The only image in my head was the upcoming curve followed by the last straightaway. Almost time for the final kick.
I increased the speed to ten miles an hour.
It was the best time to pass someone. I remember coming up on a guy in regionals last year who was already almost out of gas. When I passed him, he did a double take and I guess that took too much energy because I glided right by him and finished first.
The final kick was key. So much could happen in those last 200 meters. You could get a cramp. Someone might be losing steam. You could find out that you’re capable of more than you ever thought.
Feeling my lungs start to burn and my legs begin to protest, I increased the speed to eleven miles an hour, focusing on that imaginary curve and straightaway.
Finish strong.
Finish strong.
Finish strong.
CHAPTER 28
DAVID
Because softball got the early time slot of right after school, I was able to go home before tryouts, which meant I could change into my practice clothes, organize my equipment there, and just go straight from my car to the field house before tryouts and straight from the field house to my car after tryouts. My plan was to get there four minutes early. Some of the guys would be there before then, and there were always a few that seemed to test the coaches’ patience and slide in seconds before we were about to begin. I didn’t want to be the first one, but I didn’t want to be last either.
I would have liked to spend the down time with Tyler, but if it wasn’t a downpour or below freezing, the track team now practiced outside which meant right after school. And Tyler would be jogging around the track in the hat with the little puffball on a string.
Walking into the quiet house made me antsy. Robert was at travel ball practice. Mom was probably at work, maybe putting in another double shift. I wasn’t sure where my dad was. I hadn’t been home this early in a while and didn’t know how he spent his days now that there wasn’t any work going on. Maybe he was meeting with someone about a prospective job. Maybe he was at another support group meeting. I didn’t know how often they met.
I dropped my book bag on the kitchen floor, the thud reminding me that I could do homework during this time, but getting something to eat was more pressing. With the fridge kind of empty, I moved on to the pantry to see if the snack selection was any better. There wasn’t much to choose from, not because there wasn’t any money for food but because my mom hadn’t had a chance to do some serious grocery shopping in a couple weeks.
“I finished the cheese at lunch.”
I almost hit my head on the wall as I jumped out of the pantry. My dad stood by the kitchen table in one of his post-work/no-work uniforms. Today a black World Series T-shirt accompanied a pair of dark gray sweats. Since he wasn’t wearing any socks, I guessed that Dad hadn’t been out of the house today.
“That’s okay.” I picked a pear out of the fruit bowl. It only had a couple of brown spots on it. “I’m just killing time before tryouts.”
My dad’s eyes brightened a little even though the rest of his face and body looked like they were supporting several sheets of drywall. “They’re today?”
“Yep,” I said. We hadn’t talked much since the packet from Mankato came in the mail. I added it to the pile of college materials in my room, unable to ignore the crinkled envelope from Sinni poking out from the middle. I’d looked inside the envelope from Mankato once more since the initial opening, thinking maybe I missed some information or the numbers would somehow add up to something different.
Dad leaned on the kitchen table with his hip. “How’s everything going?”
I shrugged. “Okay, I guess.”
“And what about our favorite all-star pitcher?”
Again, I shrugged. “Ke
vin got suspended. He’s going to miss the first day of tryouts.”
My dad smiled to himself. “His dad is going to let that happen?”
“He beat up Tyler and there really wasn’t any way for him to deny it.”
The smirk left Dad’s eyes and was replaced by concern. “Tyler? Is he okay?”
I nodded. “It was a little while ago. Tyler’s fine. He’s pretty tough.” Tougher than I thought. A lot tougher. Tougher than me.
“You didn’t say anything about it. I’m glad he’s all right.” Dad pushed himself off the kitchen table. “Your mom made a list of stuff today. I’ll go to the store tomorrow.”
I threw the pear core into the trash and opened the pantry again, searching for something I might have missed on the first pass. “Is she working during the day tomorrow?”
“She actually has the day off, but I figure she’s probably not going to bounce out of bed bright and early.”
I spied a granola bar that probably fell out of the box some time ago because it was almost smashed into the corner of the shelf. It still felt somewhat soft so I decided to take a chance. “She’s been working a lot.”
Dad grunted. “Unlike some people.”
“That’s not what I meant.” I couldn’t keep the edge out of my voice, legit annoyed that Dad would think I would give him a hard time about not having a job.
“I know,” he said, folding his arms. “But it’s what I’m thinking.”
Halfway through the granola bar and it suddenly tasted stale. “It’s a little slow right now, but it will pick up once it really gets warmer.” I knew Dad had heard it all before but I didn’t know what else to say.
“Don’t do that,” he shook his head. “You need to focus on today and your tryouts and the season.”
“I’m pretty sure I have a place on the team, Dad.”
“But there’s more riding on this season than others.”
I could imagine the corner of the manila envelope from Mankato sticking out from in between two brochures. “Something will work out.” I didn’t even believe the words as I said them so I’m sure Dad didn’t either, but he didn’t seem to hear me.
