From The Other Side

27. old ghosts

TWENTY SEVEN
old ghosts

Tuesday, April 15th

Isaiah was exhausted. Mentally and physically.

Practice on Monday was a pain. Coach had insisted on making them participate in team building exercises, and that meant being nice to each other, which Isaiah knew none of them were good at. They had their own little groups, and Isaiah didn't want to be anywhere near Alex's. Not after all the bullshit they'd been throwing at him.

Coach had them partner up with people they'd never worked with before, and Isaiah was stuck with Alex, which made him want to bash his head against a wall. It felt like he was being punished when he hadn't even done anything wrong. The other boy had looked just as upset, sporting a scowl and tense shoulders, looking anywhere but him.

"I don't get it," Alex had grumbled to the coach. The man turned to face him with narrowed eyes, as if challenging him to protest. Which, he did. "Why do we have to do this? We get along on the field."

Coach scoffed. "I'm tired of seeing you all fighting off of it. You're all immature when it comes to certain things, and I want you all to get to know each other and look past what makes you hate one another so much. Okay?"

                   Alex's frown only deepened. "Why does that matter though?" he complained. "Again, we do well during games."

                    Coach slapped a hand on Alex's shoulder, shaking it. "And you'll do even better when you get along away from games. I need you guys in top shape. Playoffs are serious, you hear?"

                     "Yes, sir," mumbled the players in monotone unison. For once Isaiah agreed with Alex; this was bullshit. He was perfectly fine with Steve, Ashton, and Marcus, and them only.

Isaiah was left batting while Alex pitched to him in the cages, and the one thing keeping him sane was the memory of him and August on Saturday. Despite that, the atmosphere was still tense and uncomfortable. If they'd been in a cartoon, Isaiah was sure Alex would've had steam coming out of his ears. He threw the ball particularly hard, purposely tried to aim for his thigh or side, and Isaiah was slowly began to get fed up with it.

                    "Look," Isaiah said after the ball skimmed his hip for the third time. "I don't like this either. But can we at least practice properly? I remember Coach saying that the next team we play is really good."

                     Alex side-eyed him, smacking a new ball against his glove rhythmically. "Whatever," he muttered. Isaiah sighed, adjusting his grip on the bat.

                      He pitched much better this time around, but the tension was still there, thick and suffocating. So, he tried to ease it as best he could. "You know who we're playing next?" Isaiah asked. "Coach mentioned it, but I don't remember the name."

                    That annoyed look on his face didn't leave. "Lakewood," Alex answered. "Now shut up. I don't want to talk."

                     Isaiah scowled. "Fine."

                      Lakewood... now why did that sound so familiar.