Bruised Knuckles

21. you're out - really out this time

"Your baseball coach also noted that you are suspended five games for an interference," the principal routinely recited to me. I nodded as the information was correct.

"So what?" I asked, impatiently tapping my foot along the floor, "I don't have time for this bullshit."

The principal raised his hands off the desk and widened his eyes at my comment, "Excuse me, Orion, I don't think you want any more punishments."

I shrugged and shifted in my seat once more, letting out a loud yawn. The pager on the principal's desk rang, and he promptly picked it up without any warning to me.

"Five days detention? Sounds correct. I shall do the same," the principal stated into the pager, setting it back down.

"Five detentions, Greer. No baseball. Better start following in your sister's footsteps," he sarcastically gawked at me, eyes wide as if I was supposed to react to this in some way.

"Thanks," I mumbled and immediately left the principal's room, slamming the wooden door behind me with rage.

Outside, I saw a lump of my classmates in the main hallway, mumbling and whispering amongst eachother. It was five minutes until first period and the last thing I wanted to do was take a physics test.

I bypassed the students and stormed straight into Mogford's class, where some students had already started the exam, including Aspen and Axel. They were sitting next to eachother now, no seat saved for me.

I looked around and anxiously took my seat in the back corner of the room, the complete opposite from my sister and her new buddy.

Mogford placed the exam on my desk and I nodded, grabbing the pencil from my book bag. Before I looked at the test, I looked at Mogford marking attendance on the big, clunky laptop. He looked frazzled, and I just assumed he saw what happened this morning.

Twenty five minutes later I handed in a half completed physics test. I got stumped on everything, and the only question that made sense was about Newton. Mogford raised his eyebrows at my scribbled exam, placing it on the pile without making any eye contact with me. I sighed and sat back down in my seat, just waiting for the bell to ring so I could leave.

I felt worse about punching Frankie Moore now, the pit of my stomach aching with some foreign feeling that told me I should have kept calm. But in reality, how could I have kept calm with something like that happening? He attacked me at my weakest spot.

After Mogford's class, and lunch, I kept to myself while walking to the baseball field just a short distance from the high school. I wasn't thinking about Axel or Aspen or Devian or Frankie, for that matter. I was thinking about the ache that still presented itself in my stomach.

Guilt?

No. As soon as I saw my father standing behind the dugout at the baseball field, I nearly had a panic attack. I felt the blood rising from my toes, the aching in my stomach spreading across my entire body as my face heated up faster than I've ever felt. What was he doing here?

I gulped and kept walking, noticing the taut look on his face, his crossed arms against his chest. "Son," he suddenly exclaimed as I was just a few feet away from him.

"Quiet, dad, I'm right here," I calmly said while I dropped my baseball bag to the ground.

"You're quitting baseball. Today. Right now," my dad spoke with angst in his voice.

"What do you mean? Why?" I pleaded, my  cheeks and face still hot with anger.

My dad just stared at me, his eyes telling me I did something he would never wish upon his worst enemy.

"Is it because I'm gay? Is that why?" I raised my voice now, not even bothering to look around at who could hear us.

"We'll talk when I get home. I'm going to watch you quit baseball right now," my dad stubbornly said as he placed his hand against my lower back. He guided me to the side of the dugout.

Peeking inside, I saw my whole team lined up on the bench, along with Coach Samuel, who seemed more than disappointed.

Slowly, I entered the dugout and placed each foot on the concrete steps, descending to the ground of stone pebbles. My teammates watched me silently, and I could feel my dad's eyes burning into my back.

This was the walk of shame.

I reached my coach and looked up at him, his burly muscles appearing stronger as he crossed his arms at his chest. He was a middle-aged man, but he always knew how to keep up with the times.

"Coach, I think... according to my dad... I'm quitting the team."

Coach just nodded. He didn't even crack a smile, pat my shoulder, wish me good luck, or anything. I began walking back out of the dugout, catching a glimpse of Frankie Moore out of the corner of my eye. He had the most arrogant smirk plastered on his steroid-laden face. The only attractive thing about him was the bruise my knuckles created earlier that morning.

At home, I made a beeline directly up to my room. I locked the door, figuring Devian could go somewhere else for the time being. He wasn't even home anyway. I felt my life begin to crumble apart as I brought my knees up to my chest. I leaned my back against the wall and  lost all control, my eyes tearing up.

Baseball has been in my life since day one. Now, it's day five-million-whatever, and baseball isn't part of my life anymore. I've lost the one thing that kept me sane all these years.

Sure, I could have fought my dad to let me stay on the team, but I didn't. He didn't even talk to me for the rest of the night.

Maybe now he's proud of me.