Can anyone hear us?

3

The door to my room opened with a creak. My dad walked in, seeing no one inside. He was about to leave when I appeared from my hiding spot.

"I thought you were gone." Dad said.

"Nope. Can I leave?" I asked.

"No, in a few hours when it gets dark."

I walked over to him and tried darting through the door but he grabbed me and shoved me back, knocking me to the floor.

"You asshole! Your not leaving until later! You just extended your time in here." He said.

"But you're gonna starve me! I can't stay in here another day!" I complained.

"Too bad!" He slammed the door shut. I grinned after he left and held a phone in my hand-his phone. When he shoved me, I pulled his phone out of his pocket.

I dialed 911.

"What's your emergency?" A lady answered.

"My dad locked me in the house and is going to starve me. He is violent." I replied.

"Okay, and what is your address?"

"8675 Retdol Lane."

The line cut out before she had time to answer. I hope they are coming because I can hear my dad screaming from downstairs because he lost his phone. His loud footsteps thudded up the stairs and into my room.

"Where is it?" He screamed. I held the phone in the air.

"Don't come near me! I already called the cops." I replied.

"No! Give me that phone!" He came after me and I tried to move away from him but he grabbed my arm to the point where it hurt. I faced him and as quick as you blink, he punched me face, and a few times in the gut. I dropped the phone to the floor, along with me. I was in a lot of pain- he punched me with a force I didn't know he had.

He grabbed the phone as I heard sirens pull up to the house. My dad ran out of the room, leaving me on the floor. I heard more people come up the stairs as I crawled to my knees, spitting blood on the floor. The lock was twisted, and the door began to open.

I coughed a few times before I got to my feet. A few policemen entered the room. They had my dad in handcuffs.

"Are you okay?" They asked me. I nodded yes.

"Do you have anyone else to stay with in the meantime?"

"Yes, I know where to go." I replied, lying.

"We can escort you."

"No, it's fine. It's a short walk." The police seemed to be in deep thoughts but finally let me go.

I read the time on my dads phone the police had given me and it read 8:45 pm. Baseball practice was almost over. I rushed out the front door with my duffel and caught a bus to the old field. Luckily, no one else was on it so it didn't take as long as it did before.

"You're late." The coach said.

"I had an emergency. My dad was arrested and charged for abuse." I replied.

"Oh, okay. I'm sorry."

"Nah, it's fine." I replied. However, one thought struck me: I don't know how long he will be in there, or if anyone will bail him out.

"Practice is almost over, but you could probably still meet some of the players." Coach said. I caught a glimpse of his desk and a sign read Coach Jackson.

"Should I call you coach or Jackson?" I asked.

"Coach." He replied. I nodded okay and walked over to the rugged field.

"So, ya the new guy." One black guy asked as he walked up to me. Now that I looked at the team, only about three men were white. Maybe they weren't funded a lot because of the black people.

"Yep. Aron." I held out my hand to shake. He took it firmly.

"Ted. Center fielder." He greeted. "Hell of a day? Ya late." Even though the world was full of racism, Ted didn't mind that he was black and I was white.

"Yeah." I mumbled. He noticed me shifting slightly. "I'm sure you can tell that we aren't that widely known."

"You okay? Ya seem kinda...out of it." He said.

"No I'm fine. Thanks, tho." I replied.

"Okay. What position have you played?" He asked.

"Um, batter. But I'm not as good as I was. I had surgery in my hand and lost feeling in a few fingers."

"Oh, wow. Well, this could just be another chance for ya." I smiled at his comment. He was right.

"Do ya have a place to stay?" He asked. I didn't want him to know I was broke.

"Yeah. Why?" I lied.

"Because if you ever need one, you can stay with me. If we gonna be on the same team, we gotta be bros."

"Okay. Thanks for the offer."

The rest of the night went by for what felt like a snail crossing the road. I had met so many people that they just blurred together. I haven't met the whole team, but I met most of the staff.

After meet-n-greet I practiced swinging the bat a few times and actually got somewhat of a strong grip on it.

Once practice was done, I hurriedly caught up to Ted before he left the ballpark.

"Hey, Ted. I gotta ask you something." I said as he turned around to face me. I slung by duffel over my shoulder as it began to slip.

"Yeah, sure. Anythin'." he said in his slight accent.

"You still got room in your home for me?" I asked.

"Of course. Let's go. It ain't far." I followed behind him down the sidewalk.

Within a few minutes, we arrived at an apartment complex.

"Here y'all are." Ted said as he opened the door to his apartment on the third floor.

"Nice place." I said and set my duffel on the ground.

"It's nothin' much, but it'll do." He replied.

"So, sit down and let's talk." We both sat down on his couch.

We talked for a few hours, me sharing about my life and him sharing about his.

"So, I have one question." I said. "Do you get funded a lot?"

"Well, ain't that the problem. The world is still full of racist shit so, nah. But we've a game tomorrow and if we get a good record, maybe we could get into the champs." He responded.

"Have you ever gotten into the championships?"

"Our best record was 27 wins. Per year."