I like you, for you.

Chapter 2: Falling Off

The following morning, I had a difficult time getting ready for practice. I look in the mirror as I put on my shirt. I watched myself carefully. Then I start slowly approaching it, to have a good look at myself. My hands lightly pulled on my face as I examined it.
  
   "I seem alright, right?" I mutter quietly to myself. I'm surprised that I worried so much about how I would appear at practice today. I Never do that. My hands carefully rest on each side of my neck and were visibly shaking from again from anxiety.

    I close my eyes once again for a second and I breathe to soothe myself.  I adjust my shirt once or twice before I move on.

I'm sure the nerves is simply about meeting or seeing him. Vances presence can be incredibly tense at times. His expression occasionally made me want to run away and cry in fear.

 
     The noises coming from downstairs was really irritating as it rumbled. Particularly with my brother screaming that he just has to be allowed to visit his friend's house. I roll my eyes and fix my hair. I really did need to let go about what Vance could think about me.

   I softly sigh. "So that's why, nothing further. It's normal being nervous." I say- reminding myself. Just before I leave the room, I think to myself, what would happen today.

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"Bruce. Swing without giving it too much thought. It's still a hit even if it's not a great hit!" My practice partner in batting yells at me. As the ball rushes toward me, I swing and strike it.

     The ball makes just enough for me to be able run the first base. It was far better to missing it. I typically bat quite well.

The past few days, I have simply fallen off. Maybe I'm not the superstar that everyone believes I am. I lower the bat before I strike again.

     Only a few parents and girls are there in the bleachers as my eyes carefully scan the area. Zero Vance. I sigh with irritation. I resume my position.

    "Okay, boys! Let's take 5 now. For those of you knuckleheads who might forget, the remainder of the equipment won't arrive until then. The coach says in his typical snarky way.

       I nod instantly and quietly say under my breathe "Yes coach..." with a sarcastic attitude. I don't hate my coach. I have known him for years now. Coach is just a interesting person, very complicated.

     One day he could be giving us rewards and congratulating us for being a 'great team.' The next, he could be screaming at us and telling my team to do push ups for punishment.

   As I put down my bat, I cast a glance over toward the aging bleachers into the rowdy audience. I stammer, "Vance," with excitement. Certainly, my heart was pumping faster then before.

     Workout, yeah, must have really gotten it racing. I keep my gaze fixed on him and pay close attention to how his scruffy hair moves in the wind.

 
     By the bleachers, Vance was standing. After a while, he still hadn't sat down, so it seemed that he was waiting for me. Vance makes a small gesture toward the gate separating the two of us and mouths 'Come here.'

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To keep anyone from seeing me, or at least him, I made my way to the bleachers on the dirt sidelines outside the practice area. Everyone spoke quite a bit about drama or other peoples businesses around here.
 
     I wanted my mom to not exactly know that I was speaking to Vance. Not to mention, attempting to be
at least friendly to him. I felt a slight migraine coming on as I consider what she might say.