The Art of Stealing Home [TEMP HIATUS]

Chapter 2

The black-and-red duffel bag dropped with a decided thunk. Puffs of golden sand shot up from the force. A black-and-white sneaker kicked the dust away from around the bag. The metallic clank of bats rustling accompanied the thump as well. Young children no more than 11 or 12 chattered amongst themselves as they too set their bags down and pulled bats and gloves from their recesses. The main bag rested against the fence cutting the dug out off from the field. He grabbed the zipper and tore it open, pulling the three metal bats from it along with his own personal glove. A larger hand appeared and tugged the second glove from the bag. Grey-blue orbs glanced up to see his father walking onto the field without a word. Shaking his long bangs from his eyes, he grabbed the bats and moved around the open edge of the fence. He leaned the bats against the fence, handles up. The children followed suit, setting their own bats with them.

The sun was high but beginning it's descent. The heat was thick in the air, but an occasional breeze brought relief. He was glad that he'd rolled the sleeves of his team shirt up. It was short sleeved to begin with, but even that didn't help. Now they were rolled inward, showing off his entire arm. He raked a hand through his dirty blonde locks, shaking them out and absently rubbed the light layer of sweat from his forehead. He returned to the dugout and pulled his sports bottle from the side pocket. He popped the nozzle and took a swig. By this point the coach had returned to the dugout after speaking with the umpire. Micah glanced up from his place by the fence as the large, imposing man entered. The kids around him quited as he cleared his throat. "Alright, grab a partner and let's warm up. We have the field first. Let's move it." in a clutter of movement, the kids grabbed their gloves and headed out. His father followed shortly after, leaving Micah to relax and watch. The warm ups lasted only ten minutes. Then they were in their positions on the field as they ran drills until the opposing team was ready.

Soon the game started and Micah rested on the bench. He took one last swig of his water before shoving it into the pocket again. His glove rested next to him as his gaze focused on his team. After the inning, he was called out to coach first base. His father manned third as the kids went to prepare for batting. He slid to a stop in the chalked in box to the right of the base. He was close to the fence that blocked the spectators on the bleachers. Letting his gaze wander toward the audience, they rested on a young woman at the top. She sat isolated in the shade the large overhanging oak provided from behind. She was focused on the batter, who was one of their best players. Sean was a good kid and incredibly funny. He reminded Micah of himself when he was young. Charismatic and lived to entertain. The kid was the team clown, always making some kind of joke. He would sometimes purposely get strikes just for laughs. His gaze went back to the girl, curiously. He called out to her with a simple nickname. Red, overused but effective.

She didn't seem to appreciate the name though. Reacting with a sharp tone before ignoring him completely. Micah simply let a lopsided smirk pull at his lips. He would have continued, but the crack of the bat pulled him to reality. Sean had hit out towards right field, making a single. The ball reaching the first basemen just a little too late. Sean was breathing a bit hard, but he could sympathize because of the heat. Micah was forced to keep his attention on the game, though every now and then his gaze would stray.

The next up to bat was a kid a bit stronger than Sean. His name was Logan and was known for hitting doubles and triples in game. Momentarily distracted, Micah hunched over, resting his hands on one outstretched knee. Preparing as if he intended to run himself. First pitch came in a bit too far outside. The coach booming his praise for Logan's good eye. Second was a hair too far inside, Logan shifting back from the plate on instinct. Third was just right and with a strong step forward, the ball was sent sailing toward center field.

"Go!" Micah barked, sending Sean down the line to second. The ball had slipped passed the center's glove, giving a chance to steal third. Logan gunned for second as Sean ran for it. Sean having a more wiry frame and longer limbs, he covered more ground than his teammates. Dropping to slide right as the short stop turned to pass to the third basemen, his teammates tensed as the umpire moved in.

The cloud of dust faded as Sean resolutely pressed his cleats into the bag right as the ball hit the third base men's glove. There was a pause and the echoing voice of the umpire called a safe. Sean jumped to perch himself properly, one foot on the base and raised his arms in victory. The team had little practice in sliding so it was a risk for them to try. Especially Sean who seemed more hesitant to try at first in practice. "That's how it's done! Good work, Jack." The coach called using Sean's nickname. The full name was Jackrabbit which was printed across the back of the jersey. Each member had their own nicknames given by their coach.

Micah himself was called Cal, short for California. It was his original birth state before moving for the more coastal states and because of his surfer boy like hair. It was second nature for his family to develop nicknames for others. The game moved along and Micah relaxed, turning once again to the girl who caught his eye. She had a grin on her face and focused on Sean, who he guessed she was related to. He felt a bit put out by her lack of attention toward him and rattled the fence just to draw attention to himself.

Once her eyes were on him, he pressed against the fence and winked at her. "Why do you keep looking over there? I'm standing right here." He teased, casually. She scowled at him and took another drink of her Gatorade to avoid talking. He chuckled at her reaction and tilted his head, playfully. "What are you doing after the game? We could go for some pizza and get to know each other." He offered, seemingly oblivious to her aloofness.

"Don't you have a job to do?" She finally spoke, her tone dripping with boredom. Micah grinned in victory and was about to respond when that all too familiar whistle echoed sliced through the cheering. "Hey, Cal! Stop with the goo goo eyes and get back to your base!" The coach - his father, called out. There was a murmur of laughter from the team as he forced himself away from the fence. He turned, but not before catching the sly smirk on Red's face. He sent one last wink before going back to base.

The game concluded without further incident, his team winning 15-10. There was a loud cry from the dugout as the kids gathered to high five and congratulate each other. Coach then called for a lineup and they congratulated their opponents on a good game. Then began the collecting of equipment. This went for about five minutes as Micah trotted over to his dad to gather the bats into his duffel bag.

"Alright, good game you little demons. That's what I like to see from you. Next practice is this Thursday at four on this field. Now, who's up for some pizza?"

The resulting cheers were almost deafening, but Micah was used to it. The boys dispersed and he shouldered the duffel bag as he left the dugout. He paused by the gate as he heard the familiar, slightly high pitched voice of Sean. "Can we please go with them. Austin and Sammy want me to go too. Please, please, pleeeeeease." There was a pause then a long sigh and a sweet, melodic voice chimed in.

"Alright, you little runt. Just let me call mom and dad and we'll head over." MacKenzie complied, shoulders dropping in defeat. She was kind of hungry after the double header, so some pizza did sound nice. Sean yelled in victory and ran to tell his friends who had waited nearby with their parents. MacKenzie reluctantly dialed home and turned away to speak with their parents. A slight shudder that she mistook for the wind gripped her a moment later. Unbeknownst to her, Micah was waiting in the wings with a grin as he drank from his sports bottle to bide for time.

This was going to be a long night.