Gage Cilleti has just begun his junior year of high school, and is becoming more and more involved in his school's activities, considering he'd been playing baseball since he was just seven-years-old.
Elijah McCay has just dropped out of school, du...
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My weekend with Rick felt off, like he was hiding something from me. I tried my best not to pry, but I couldn't help it, I was so, so worried. During dinner, I had asked if everything is all right. And even after our conversation during school, he still didn't seem completely competent with sharing his feelings.
That Sunday afternoon, Rick offered to take me home. I agreed, and was left at my doorstep not even half an hour later. As I watched Rick's truck roar, a frown overtook my face. This time was it his father or just—him?
My father spent the entire morning bragging about how beautiful Hanukkah would be this year. Although, he said this every year. And he never disappointed.
I spent the rest of the afternoon cooped up in my bedroom. Soft, mellow music playing from my old stereo. Thankfully, my parents allowed me to wallow in peace. Usually, whenever I felt this way, my mother would barge into my bedroom, and sit right beside me.
She wouldn't be too affectionate, but she'd still sit in silence with me, me almost instantly cheering up due to the awkward silence.
When Monday came, as usual, my father drops me off about an hour before the first bell, due to Coach's early-Monday practices. Sure, I didn't agree with the tactic, but I wasn't one to argue with the man who'd been coaching longer than I've been alive.
The anticipation I felt booming through me as I made my way toward the locker room, was unbelievable. I was excited. Excited to see him again.
I don't remember when this started, me waiting for the weekend to end, just to see Elijah again. Even when I knew that he most-definitely couldn't care less about me.
While Coach began to instruct the team, I couldn't take my eyes off of him. He sat there, completely oblivious, index and thumb clicking his pen as he patiently waited for coach to finish his sentence. But there I was, practically drooling over him, even if he was doing it absolutely effortlessly.
And I still couldn't even figure out what it was.
My fingers grasped tightly onto my legs, watching as Elijah stood from his stool, and began speaking.
"—that's how easy it is to become distracted. One second, you can be the absolute best, then the next, you're back at the bottom. That's why it's so, so important to pay attention. Even if it is just paying attention to the opponent—"
I had already checked out of the conversation, or, speech, watching his lips as he spoke humbly, yet sternly.
"Right, Gage?"
His question caught me off guard. I had been admiring him so intently, that once my name left his lips, my cheeks reddened instantly. "R-Right."
