All the Missing Pieces (UNDER REVISION)

Eight

           I'm so caught up in the school's worship of the baseball team that Thursday comes before I realize it. I try to focus all of my nervous energy on schoolwork. I finished my English paper and my Journalism article; I even took extra notes on the physics lab. Anything I can do to take my mind off of baseball. Baseball and James. Semi finals are too important to risk me panicking. If we win this game, we go to the State finals next week.

            Our team is recognized for having one of the the biggest baseball powerhouses in Pennsylvania. Charter schools have a little advantage because once you get a good team going, people keep coming to school there for the team. Free tuition and good sports teams do a lot for attendance rates. I'm not saying I love the concept of charter schools. But, I mean, our school is community based, so we ended up on top, and baseball is too important to me and getting into college to let the opportunity slide.

            At two o'clock, the whole baseball team gets out of classes to get ready for the game. My Journalism teacher wishes me good luck as I head out of the class. "Thanks." I say. Some of my classmates wave as I exit into the hall. Sean's fifth period is next to mine. We walk to the locker room together. I can tell he's nervous, I mean he's the team captain how could he not be nervous? But he holds himself confidently and strides down the hall. "You ready, Reyes?"
"Hell yeah." He nods his head in approval, "Good. We need our star pitcher tonight."
"Oh come on, I'm not all that."
"Don't be humble, you're amazing. I bet you could even be captain." I look at him in shock, "Captain?" I hadn't even considered it. "If not you, then who?" I think about it. Kurt? Captain? I shudder at the thought. There are some other boys that would make good captains. Tim? Holland? Carter? They'd all be good. He smiles at me from the corner of his eye. "I don't want to take someone else's place though. I mean I've only been here for a year."
"Well don't add that to your list of things to stress out about. This game is enough."
"Yeah, I guess." Sean opens the door to the locker room, and I follow him in.

•°•§•°•

            By 3:30, a small crowd of people has gathered on the bleachers. James is there, talking to Emily. Marina's staring at her phone. Even my parents took off work to make it to the game tonight because they wanted to be there. Allison Baretta is sitting contently with a huddle of girls with a sign saying "We <3 Kurt." He waves to them and winks like the dream boy everyone thinks he is. He'd finalized his plans to ask Allison to prom on the bus here by wasting five poster boards to spell out "P-R-O-M-?" I get James' attention and motion my head towards Kurt. He rolls his eyes back to me, and leans over to whisper something to Emily; an explanation, I presume. "Yo Allison!" Kurt shouts, making a "come" . Allison's thick blonde curls bounce as she stands up to meet him at the dugout. Suddenly five of Kurt's baseball buddies bring out giant posters, and he whips a bouquet of flowers out of seemingly nowhere. "Omgomgomg! Yes!" Allison screams. The crowd cheers wildly, and she runs past us in the dugout to leap into Kurt's arms. Instantly I make eye contact with James and Marina, rolling my eyes in a totally sarcastic manner. I mean, come on. Prom is in actually two days. I think I was late to ask but this has to be some sorta record. James shakes his head, but smiles before continuing his conversation with Emily.
"Alright, boys. Let's get it together now." Coach says. "This game, it's gonna be tough. Here's how it's gonna go; Meyers, you're starting tonight. I need Reyes for later."
"How much later?" I ask. "Shut up, Reyes" he responds. Kurt snickers at that. "Smith, you're starting shortstop, MacDonald, first, Wilcox, second," he continues rattling off the order he wants us to field. For a championship-winning coach, you would think he'd let us know earlier, but with Flynn, you can never tell. "Okay boys, if you win tonight, I'll go out and celebrate with vodka. And if you lose, well, I'll still go out for vodka, but I will not be in a good mood." He points to our fearless captain, Sean Turner. "Take it away." Sean pulls us into a huddle, and hops in the middle to start our cheer. "Alright guys, let's do this thing. Are we gonna win tonight?" everyone screams in reply, "Yeah!"
"I said are we gonna win tonight?"
"Yeah!"
"PC!" He starts. In unison we all reply "CS!"
"PC!"
"CS!"
"Can you stop the red machine?"
"Hell no!"
"Can you stop the red machine?"
"Hell no!"
"Bucks on three, 1, 2, 3,"
"Bucks!" This is the same exact cheer that every single team at our school screams before their games. Soccer, lacrosse, swimming, track, football, you name it. According to Emily, the marching band even says it before their competitions. Honestly, I'm surprised that we got this far with it. It's tradition now, though after all, no one can stop the red machine. At the cheer's conclusion, we throw our hands into the air like the imbecile athletes we are and get ready for the announcer to call the starting lineup.