The Coaches Daughter | E. Jaeger

13

It's dark. And cold. And you're tired.

You've probably walked a mile, maybe a little less. You are now regretting your stupid and immature decision to avoid Eren at all costs. The wind is blowing right through you and your thin t-shirt and shorts, causing an array of goosebumps to form on your skin.

It's only eight o'clock, but it feels as though it's midnight. You believe that your house is five miles away from the restaurant, so it might take you awhile to get home. Another reason you should've thought about what you were getting into before walking out of the restaurant.

Maybe you can call your step mom... But she's likely taking her night time bath and enjoying her wine. She really is living the house wife dream.

Sometimes you feel a slight wave of anger wash over you when you think of the relaxed life she has. How it's unfair that your mom had to suffer so much for so long. She didn't get to enjoy a bath or a glass of wine. But that's not your step moms fault. She didn't cause that. She's just enjoying the life she's been given and you can't fault her for that.

As you're walking along side the paved road, you hear a metallic clank and then a group of loud cheers. You glance to your right and see a brightly lit up field.

Baseball it looks like.

Curiosity gets the best of you and you end up veering off the road and down a dirt road towards the field. It sounds like a games going on and you wonder if it's your schools.

Then closer you get the more you realize that there isn't anyone in the stands. Well there's a couple parents sitting in camping chairs near the fence, but it seems the cheering is coming from inside the dugouts. It's not a game, but the players are wearing your school colors. It look's as though it's a scrimmage.

"Come on, two down!" A boy yells. "Finish him off, Marco!"

Marco...

You remember the boy in your ceramics class. You haven't talked to him in a couple weeks due to you skipping the class and just doing your work during your free period. You work better in silence.

Now that you know Marco is pitching, you focus your eyes on him. Number 16. He's wearing a baseball cap that hides his eyes as he looks down at the ball in his hand. You watch as he lifts his eyes to the batter and then takes a deep breath. He then lifts his leg up and launches the ball right into the catchers mitt.

"Atta boy, Bodt!" The coach shouts and Marco returns the praise with a bright smile. He looks rather embarrassed having all the attention on him. Poor boy can't help it though. He's the pitcher.

The teams switch and you look up at the score board. It's the last inning and Marco's team seems to be one run behind. They just need to get two more and they will win.

Your fingers wrap around the chain link fence and you wait patiently for the batter to take his position at the plate.

Once he does, you focus on his stance and wait for the pitcher to throw the ball. There's the occasional cheer from within the dugout for the batter to have courage in his swing.

"You got this!"

"Swing smart!"

"Watch the ball!"

It's not a real game but you find yourself rather excited to watch this play out. You obviously want Marco's team to win this game, so you're hoping they get two more runs in before the inning is over.

The pitcher releases the ball and in under a second it's being caught in the catchers mitt. It was crazy fast. You frown a little knowing the batter only has two more strikes left.