“Damn, Barlowe is on fire.”
“That’s good. Have you had enough of the atmosphere yet so we can head out?”
When he doesn’t respond, I look over at him, knowing what’s coming next. I’ve been duped into a full game. “There’s bound to be some postgame interviews right here.” He points at the field as I shake my head in defeat.
“I should’ve brought another book.” Or grabbed my Kindle because it doesn’t look like we’re leaving anytime soon.
“I’ll buy you more books as soon as the game is over.”
“Deal.” Might as well get some new books out of the guilt trip.
The “big game” continues around me, and I’m only vaguely aware of Bodie and his new friend—our enthusiastic neighbor—doing a macho chest bump as they shout about another hitless inning or strikeouts or some nonsense before sitting back down.
“Um, Avery. You really should look now.”
“I’m good.”
I feel a few taps on my shoulder from around me as Bodie leans over. “Look on the jumbotron.”
“The what?” I ask, my eyes immediately finding my dumbfounded face on the oversized screen across the stadium. “What the hell?”
Bodie doesn’t share my terror at the sight of my ginormous face as he joins in the howls around us.
“Barlowe’s number one fan,” the announcer booms over the stadium’s speakers. None too soon, the fans to the left and right of us jump around, waving and blocking the intrusive camera’s view of me on the screen.
Thankfully, the commotion dies down, and everyone focuses back on the game. “Why would they do that?”
“Probably because you’re the only person here not paying attention to the game.”
“Big freakin’ deal.” And apparently it is. As I glance to the field, I’m met with the same steely brown eyes on me. He’s throwing a damn ball around. “The book is still better than anything happening on the field. But can you let me know if they show me again? Please.”
“Oh, you’ll know. Ready for your fifteen minutes of fame?”
“No. I want to be left alone for fifteen minutes so I can find out how this damn story ends.” Lifting the book, I keep it in front of me but at an angle where I can see the screen. And fortunately, my face doesn’t appear on it again even though I can feel the heat in my cheeks as I do my best to avoid the game and all the chaos surrounding me.
The torture is finally over after nine innings, but I could swear it was more like nineteen. Bodie has joined the small crowd waiting at the edge of the field near where a sports reporter is waiting to interview the star pitcher. I sigh deeply, aware that I’m now stuck waiting on Bodie to stop fangirling.
The book had a good ending, but now I’m bored out of my mind. Propping my feet on the dugout in front of me, I rest my cheek in my hand and close my eyes. The day’s agenda is only half over because now we have to go shopping. I was already exhausted from staying up most the night, but as I doze off, I can’t decide if the baseball game or the shopping trip will be the most dreadful part of the day. But as I recall my face on the screen, I decide quickly that the game is indeed the worst part.
4
CARTER
“Carter Barlowe.” The reporter beams as she motions for me to step in front of the camera. It’s the last place I like being, but it comes with the territory. “Seven innings on your first game back. No scoring runs after you stepped off the mound, either. Bringing the Coyotes a win on the second game of the regular season. How’d it feel to be back?”
“It felt great.” And it did. Truly. I elaborate a little, thanking my teammates and coaches and expressing my happiness at being back in the starting rotation. I may be stalling a bit in order to brace for the question I know is coming, and the reporter doesn’t disappoint.
“Your father pitched for the Coyotes for twelve record seasons. Were there any nerves coming in to live up to his legacy?”
Keeping a straight face, I say the generic answer I’ve always given when anyone says anything about my dad. “My dad definitely left his mark on the sport.” Among other things since he’s a piece of shit off the field. “But I just wanted to come out here and do my best for my teammates and the Coyote fans.”
She asks a few more questions about growing up in Canaan Falls, and I’m able to easily avoid mentioning my dad in the response. Soon she wraps up, thanks me for my time, and moves on to interview another player who hit a two-run homer—the only run-scoring at bat of the game.