Final Ticket

two

Maddie Fitzpatrick rested her chin in her palm, watching some kids run around in their little Detroit Tigers jerseys that sold for the staggering price of $40 (and sold quite well at that). They were so happy to see their favourite baseball stars swing their bat and hit the ball, it was really just adorable.

As the game began, she sat down and pulled out her cell phone. It was hard to be excited about a sport she didn't care for. Now, if this had been a Red Wings game, she would've been all over it; but baseball was agonizingly boring to her. So, she passed her time like any other teen -- online. She looked at her email, looked at WhatsApp, logged into Skype. She saw chats from hours ago that were no longer relevant, a spam message, and surprisingly (or perhaps not), a new message from Numbers that he sent promptly after her logging in.

[07:19:18 PM] No. 78921: Check your mail.

She blinked a few times before jotting off a response.

[07:21:01 PM] madeline: My email?

[07:21:30 PM] No. 78921: No.

Her eyes widened, right about the time a cheer erupted from the crowd nearby. She never expected anything from him, ever. It had been three months since she gave him her info, and not a word had been said about gifts or sending anything until this moment.

She guessed he had sent her the stuffed white dove he had been thinking about purchasing for a while, so he could get the in-game item for one of his new favourite games. But until she got home, the suspense would kill her. She was thankful her family wasn't going to bust into her mail, looking at every piece she got like she was ten again, or like a bunch of tin-hatted conspiracy theorists that would think an overseas packet would mean a bomb.

In fact, they mostly left her alone...for everything. It was upsetting, but nothing could be done. The economy in Detroit was rough, she didn't understand why they were still there and why her family insisted instead on spending almost all their time working, but still she wouldn't have traded it for anything.

She ran her fingers through her hair, tucking a stray strand from her pony back behind her ear, so nobody would complain about contamination in their hotdog.

Numbers had gone off to do god knows what; he never told specifics, only briefly stating "afk" before you could even respond.

And now, things were revving up again. The first inning was almost over, and people were rushing to get more popcorn and snacks, preparing for what seemed like it was going to be an exciting game. Already, Detroit had hit a home run.

The one thing Maddie disliked about working at Comerica Park was she had to act like she was the biggest fan of the team, ever. Everyone was buzzing on beer and a possible victory, and she just wasn't mean enough to ruin it for them.

"Our Tigers are the best!" One enthusiastic fan bellowed. The others joined with his cheers, and Maddie halfheartedly joined, making sure not to call them the Lions like she did opening day. That was mighty awkward, and her boss was none too pleased about it.

But even as she was crowded by fifty tipsy fans all begging for hot dogs and fries, her mind was on Numbers, and what was waiting on her when she got home.