Driven. || Dylan Sprayberry ||

01. Pre-season

          Nolan's POV
To say that I didn't understand what was happening in math class would be an understatement. Unlike my best friend, Mason, who literally understood the whole math book before school started. So here I was, October and I still had no idea what I was doing. Not that, that was any surprise. I didn't really ever know what I was doing. Again, unlike Mason, who my parents adored. Seriously if it was legal, they'd leave me somewhere and take him. He was the perfect child, perfect guy too. Straight A's, already had his whole life planned. Blonde and blue eyed, tall and tan, a total sweetheart. Everyone loved Mason. I don't blame them, he was pretty amazing. But when your own parents liked him more? Yeah that part sucked. It wasn't like my mom gave birth to me, nah that didn't happen.
"Earth to Nol." Mason snapped in my face, alerting me out of my normal self hate session, that only happened in math class. What a surprise?
"Hmm?" I slid my elbow off my desk causing the reaction I knew Mason wanted, pure shock.
"Class is over." He raised his eyebrows as I scrambled throwing stuff in my book bag.
"You mean the devil finally came and got his child back?" I smirked, as I earned a glare from my teacher.
"Ha ha. But really I mean baseball tryouts." His permanent smile grew bigger. You see not only was this Mason's favorite time of the year, but mine as well. And no not for the baseball players, but because I always knew the little quirks about the game. Who was worth picking, who wasn't. Who would do great under pressure, who would crack. Really I was the coach's favorite person. In my dreams. He actually wouldn't let me help, because well I'm a girl.
Anyways as I made my way to the baseball field, with Mason's arm around my shoulder, I noticed the glares. Like I said earlier, Mason was the perfect guy. He knew how to treat a girl, but I wasn't into him. Because I knew him. Mason was a great guy and he was a gentleman. A good Oklahoma boy as I called him for a good year and a half, after he moved here. But once these girls got around him, and really got to know him, well they didn't like him anymore, which was dumb. Yeah, he may care more about baseball than you, but that's only when the games are on. But boy these girls are too superficial. Which is probably why they all think I'm dating him, which I'm not. It's the same every year, just because everyone knew Mason lived and breathed baseball, much like me, they assumed we were dating. Of course I couldn't say Mason wasn't attractive, or not my type, because he was. But he was basically my brother, my brother who makes me sit in the dugout at tryouts and practices. Which is exactly where I am as we speak. Not that I'm complaining, it's just that the freshmen or the new kids all try to flirt with me. These are the kids that won't make it far in the game if all they concern themselves with are girls.
       I watched as the boys did the basic drills. Tossing a ball back and forth, giving me a great chance to see who would actually be good at the outfield. Who had the power, yet the control to throw it exactly to the other players gloves. Who would make a good in-fielder, the ones that could catch the ball if it was coming straight to them or if it dropped to the ground before. This wasn't my favorite drill at all, but it was a basic. The next drill had to do with the coach hitting the ball to various positions on the field, also not my favorite but it either proved my suspicions or made me mad because coach never thought of the players being good at a different position than what they had played previously. For example Khylin Rhambo, coach always had him at third, he was good, but he would be better at left field. He had the power and always caught the balls in the air. But coach didn't see that. I knew it bothered Rhambo though. I heard him tell Mason once. Mason on the other hand, good ole Mason Dye, he could catch basically anything and everything. Maybe why coach put him as the catcher, and Mason was good, scratch that, amazing at it. He was one of the only players I approved of where coach had him playing. I could go on and on about how horrible coach really was at placing his players or talk about my favorite drill. The one between the catcher and all the potential pitchers, which actually takes place after everyone but coach, Mason, the wannabe pitchers and I, leave. The reason this was my favorite was because you really got down and dirty. I get to watch Mason do what he loves to do, and see who is playing my favorite position. Pitching is an art, much like baseball itself. Pitching is a science, how tall or short a player is can determine if they're any good at pitching. If they're too tall, it's hard for them to control their pitches. It's a different ball game out there. No pun intended.
I watched intently as the pitcher threw yet another ball. I knew who he was, every girl did, Ryan Kelley. All the girls loved him, because he played ball. He wasn't any good at pitching even coach knew that. Which pissed Kelley off, he was a senior, and he wanted to pitch. Yet, another year would be coming where he was in left field, even if he should be at third. But it's better than him pitching. I had watched at least 20 pitchers, but not one was good, or decent. Coach was about to give up, give it to some random kid that at least could throw 70 MPH and pray for the best.
Until he started pitching, never throwing a ball, always strikes. He would be good under pressure, he wouldn't crack. He obviously loved the game, he didn't care about me in the dugouts like O'Brien did, he sure could talk. The boy didn't even seem fazed when Mason taunted him, as the other teams would. The girls giggling over him as they walked by didn't faze him either. If coach didn't pick him, I would make sure he struck out. It was obvious the moment he stepped off the mound and smirked at what coach told him, he was the new pitcher. Then it dawned on me who it was. Dylan Sprayberry.