Chapter 9 : Strike Two

*Noah*

I feel like I’m on top of the world.

Last night’s victory came second only to celebrating it with Jane. For the first time in a long time, I feel like I can take on anything, like everything is possible and I’m finally able to enjoy my accomplishments.

Everyone on campus is still talking about the game, and next to actually playing, this is my favorite part—the post-game hype that will linger for days after. When I pull up to practice, I’m actually looking forward to going through the drills and bonding with the guys over our win. After all the pressure we’ve been under in the weeks leading up to it, it’ll be nice to just be able to relax a bit

Plus, I figure that with those great results, Coach won’t be able to find any ammo to shoot us down with today.

But the second I step foot on the field, I can already tell that I was wrong.

Oli’s there already, and when he sees me, he gives a look that I know means something bad is going on.

Coach Parker has his back facing me, but I can already hear him yelling as I approach. He’s setting us up to run triangles to start off with, something that surprises me. We never usually start with those right out the gate.

“I want to see you all push until you’re shitting yourselves, got it?” he yells, and the team groans as they start their first lap at home plate. Oli waits for me to catch up before we start to run together.

“What the hell is his problem today?” I ask. “I thought he’d take it easy on us after the win.”

Oli shakes his head. “No such luck. He’s been in a mood since I got here. No idea who pissed in his cereal.”

I press my lips together but keep pushing my body forward. We move on, passing by one foul pole and then the next, back home, and then repeat. Coach doesn’t give us any indication that he wants us to stop and after the fifth round, the team sort of peters out, confused and out of breath.

“Did I say you could stop?” Coach yells, practically foaming at the mouth. “Move your asses until I call it!”

In disbelief, we begin to run again. It’s the fifteenth round that seems to satisfy him and he finally tells us to stop. I double over with my hands on my knees, panting and with sweat already slicking my hair. Some of the other guys are laying flat on the ground, others are sitting with their heads between their knees trying to regain the ability to breathe.

“I’ve heard there’s been some fighting among the team,” Coach says, his eyes roving over us.

My eyes immediately go to Preston, who looks away. The bruise on his face has begun to lighten but it’s still very obvious. I try to rein in the anger coursing through my veins because I don’t want to respond to it or to give Coach any indication that whatever story Preston’s been spinning him is true.

I don’t doubt that must’ve been what happened. That idiot is dumb enough to do that.

Besides our physical training, the biggest thing Coach Parker emphasizes is team cohesion and good morale–two very interesting things for him to prioritize considering how much of an asshole he is on a good day.

But he never takes too well to reports of anything getting in the way of the team being less than what he deems fully functional. If he’s harshly critical during a flawless practice run, it’s fairly easy to imagine what he’d be like under the assumption that something is less than perfect.

I silently dare Preston to look at me, but he refuses.

“Baringer.” Coach’s voice is dangerously low but still projects to me. I turn my head in acknowledgment.

“Yes, Coach?”

"Is there anything you’d like to say about that?” Coach folds his arms and looks at me expectantly. “Do you have any idea what I’m talking about?”

I can feel the eyes of the whole team on me. I know that I need to be rational and calm about this. But thinking about why I hit Preston riles me up all over again. I can’t keep my tongue when it comes to Jane and if Coach knew what bullshit Preston was getting up to, he might understand.

I didn’t know it was Preston who was hurting her until I saw him sprawled on the floor in the light. But that changed nothing. I didn’t regret anything and I didn’t care that he was my teammate, or that things might come out to the Coach eventually. I didn’t think so far about the repercussions. I just needed to make sure he wouldn’t hurt her.

I take a breath, really trying for diplomacy here.

“Yeah, you’re talking about me and Preston. But the only reason I hit him was because—”

Coach cuts me off. “I don’t give a damn about why you hit him. That’s beside the point. The point is that you’re a team. The only hostility allowed is between you as a group and whatever school you’re facing. Not among you.”

“But if you just let me explain—” I try again.

“I said I don’t want to hear it. I want another fifteen triangles. All of you. Maybe being put through the wringer together will foster some team spirit. Go.”

I try again and again to just get him to listen to me but he refuses, adding another five and that’s when I shut up, realizing I’m only making an already bad situation ten times worse.

It’s torture, the running drills he puts us through, and we don’t do anything else. The rest of the team is beginning to grow bitter, taking out their frustration on me because they don’t know why I did what I did. They only know I’m responsible for Coach punishing us.

“Didn’t know I signed up for the track team, Baringer,” Dean teases as I pass by him on a run I’ve lost count of. “Thanks for signing us up.”

“Just fuck off, Dean,” Oli spits, and Dean snorts. But he’s not the only one to make those comments and even though Oli tries to shut them down, it doesn’t stop them from glaring at me.

I ignore them all, not needing another reason to get even angrier.

I also ignore the very tempting desire to shove Preston’s stupid face into the asphalt whenever I get the chance.

“This is ridiculous,” I say to Oli, who is looking like he’s on the verge of passing out by now. He tries to make a sympathetic noise but he sounds hoarse with effort.

“I know, man,” he wheezes. “But what can we do? Coach made up his mind and Preston’s too much of a coward to own up to what he did. We just have to deal.”

Oli’s right, but that doesn’t make me feel any better.

Finally, we finish practice with the entire team winded and exhausted. Coach pulls me aside before I can head for the locker room to cool off, and it takes all of my self-control to still keep my mouth shut.

“Baringer, everyone knows that you’re the leader of this team. All of those other guys look up to you, and the team’s success largely depends on where you’re at,” he says. “I can’t have you going around picking fights with the other members.”

I keep my fists balled at my sides and tightly pressed against my body. I don’t even nod, just in case I snap. But what I want to do is laugh in his face.

He can say all he wants to about him considering me the leader of this team, but his version of what that means just seems to mean shouting at me more than everyone else. He never gives me anything to work with, just puts more pressure on me with no guidance on how to improve so I can alleviate it.

I think of my family back home. I think of their snide remarks, of their false sense of pride when I started showing talent as a baseball player, of the way they tried to sweep away the years of ignoring my existence under the rug when they figured I could eventually make a name for myself that they wanted to be attached to.

Coach Parker reminds me so much of them. I hate them all.

He punches my shoulder, not hard enough to be combative but more in the way a misguided father thinks he’s showing affection. I internally recoil.

“I don’t wanna hear any more of this bullshit, alright? I need you to lead this team again and that means making up with Preston. Bury whatever it is that got between you two. I want to see it next practice.”

I don’t respond. Instead, I just walk away heading straight for the showers, wanting to wash today’s practice off my skin.

The stress of the next game is already looming ahead of me. I feel that pressure like a weight on my shoulders, pressing me down until I can’t get back up. So much is tied to the outcome of the season.

It’s been my dream since I was a kid to make it to the MLB. Not only would that be proof that pouring my life into this one thing was worth it all, but it means that I’m actually good enough. That no matter what Coach or my dad or anyone else had to say about it, they could never hold anything over my head again because I did it.

Me, not them. I made something of myself that wasn’t bought with my parents’ money and can’t be taken away by anyone else.

Then there’s the team. My school. So many people are riding on my performance and the last thing I want to do is disappoint anybody … including myself. It just feels unfair sometimes that it seems to all come down on me like I don’t have a single opportunity to fuck up.

There are times when it feels like I’m going to be crushed beneath that weight.

I see Jane waiting for me on the way, but it’s like I’m not quite registering that it’s her. I just want to get into the showers and try to get rid of this feeling in my chest.

“Hey,” she greets cheerily. Then she sees my face and hers drops. “Noah, are you okay? What happened?”

“Sorry, but I can’t really talk right now,” is all I can get myself to say before I walk past her.

I guess I can add that look on her face to all the reasons I can’t stand myself right now. I know it’s not her fault, and it’s not like I blame her. But I know myself when I get into this headspace. I know how I can be and the last thing I want is to put Jane in the crosshairs of that.

I wish I could explain to her that when this kind of thing happens, I prefer to be alone and try to process things on my own. That having people too close to me just tends to make me lash out and I care about her way too much to have her be one of those people.

But I don’t do that.

This whole thing with Preston has just wrecked the high I was on since yesterday, and now the thought that he might potentially get in the way of me going to the MLB is almost more than I can handle.

But Jane…

The change in her expression haunts me. I can’t let her constantly catch flack for whatever crap is going on in my life. I need to find her and make this right.