Going Back to Sin City

WACK!!

Brendon was wet and sweaty, tryouts were held outside while it was raining. It's making it hard to see, but maybe it could make this whole thing easier. That was wishful thinking. He hadn't gotten the chance to do anything yet, there were over forty kids here. All he could do was run back and forth whenever Couch Cera said to. He had no idea what that was about either. What the hell was going on here? He could tell which ones were not making the team or would be making the team. Thank God, it was only two other guys that were somewhat decent enough for this. If there any more he would have to give up on this whole idea. Then again he didn't want to play anyway, so what did it matter? Some kid missed all three times with the bat. He prayed, no, he hoped, that he wouldn't be the next one with the bat. He would fuck this up so bad. He looked around at the state of the other kids. He felt like he had a lot of competition, but truly these were a bunch of also somewhat out-of-shape teenage boys. They were also mostly freshmen. He had an advantage but he just couldn't see it. He went back to staring at his feet. Why did it have to rain? God, if you're real, why did you make it rain?

Brendon was so dazed that he didn't realize his name was called. His name was called to be a batter? He had perfect aim, but God, batting? He was going to screw it up. The fear of failure wasn't there because he wanted to play baseball, it was because if he failed at this maybe that connection he secretly wanted from his dad wouldn't happen if he didn't do this. He took the bat in his hand, he felt like he had a terrible and terrible stance. He felt like the world slowed down, and the pitcher threw the ball. He was staring at the ball right in its metaphorical eyes. It was coming so close. He was scared of the ball, it was so obvious, well he thought it was. Bren wasn't in the right position. He braced himself and closed his eyes, his hands were shaking, and this wouldn't end well. and swung.

WACK!! He hit the ball....He hit the ball! He looked around, the coach had a smirk on his face. Coach Cera had a smirk on his face, what the hell was that for? That didn't matter right now, he the damn ball. How the hell did he hit the damn ball? God had to be real because there was no way he should have hit that ball. If God wasn't that meant that he was good at baseball. That couldn't be true because he wasn't good at anything other than making his poor mother worried sick about his future offspring and making his father wish he stopped at five kids. He had this weird smile on his face after that, he didn't feel like he was going to get on the team, which it wasn't fine if he didn't, but Coach Cere would have to tell his dad about that. It was such a good hit, he didn't even get a strike. That should be something to make a father proud. Please make father proud, Brendon couldn't handle the desperation any longer. The rest of the tryouts were a blur. They asked him to be a pitcher, he a decent throw, but compared to the other kids. It was awful. Oh well, there goes being on the baseball team.

He didn't have the time to change out of his white and soaked t-shirt. His dad wasn't going to pick him up, there was no way he was driving in the rain. Especially after five-thirty. He would have to walk in this terrible rain. He didn't have his jacket with him either, he left it at home by accident. He was rushing this morning. On the walk home, he remembered how weird and cold Brent was. He wasn't trying to replace anyone, because he would be a shitty replacement. He kept walking, at this point, he was jogging and trying to stay warm. Then a familiar car pulled up next to him. "Hey, you want a ride?" Ryan rolled his window down. How did he find him all the time? How was he always there when he needed a ride? He needed his own car to drive because it was starting to get weird, and he disliked it. Then again being this random kid's car was better than getting any more wet. "Thanks." He got into the car. This keeps happening, God, he was getting stalked. There was no reason why Ryan was also leaving school at almost six p.m. So strange.

The car ride was silent besides the faint music playing on the radio, it was Blink-182. That made Brendon remember all the records that he sold. God, he hated this stupid city, he hated that he had to be here. He looked out the window, realizing that Ryan was driving in a weird direction, this was not the way home. "Where are you going?"

"Going to pick up something, it won't be long." Ryan parked and got out of the car. They were in front of a pharmacy. All he had to do was sit there and think, he opened the glove department. Condoms, wow that's not new for a teenage boy, gloves, a hallmark gift card, and a prescription for...Rifaximin. That was strange to have inside your glove department. It wasn't his business, but didn't mean he didn't want to know more. He looked up and shut the glove department, shoving the prescription into his pocket. His somewhat new friend came back with a bag in his hand. He sat in between them. Bren tried so hard not to be a snoop, but he had such an urge to look. The name on the prescription was George Ross. It had to be his dad for... there it was again, Rifaximin.

That was enough looking at other people's business, he knew too much, especially about a kid he had no plans of staying friends with anyway. He didn't need to know these things. This was none of his business. He turned his face over to the window again. Brendon was home again, but he didn't want to be.

"Want to go somewhere to eat? I'll pay."