Secret Sauce

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Conner lays on the couch, scrolling through an endless newsfeed. He clicks thumbs down on stupid shit and thumbs up on stupider shit. The tiny clock in the corner of his phone reads 6:37 pm. First pitch is in 23 minutes. A text from his dad slides down the top of his screen—

"Running late"

Followed by another—

"On my way home now

Be there in ten"

Conner ignores it and continues wading through the self-righteous ocean of misinformation. The red notification circle in the corner of the app says 37. He clicks it. Scrolling, he sees the post Braxton tagged him in. Tapping it, anti-Semitic comic pops up on his screen. It already has 126 likes, 215 dislikes, and 56 comments. Conner scrolls down, reading them one by one—

Tyler Dean, "Holy shit bro, this is kinda fucked up"

Devin "Big D" Jamison, "Lolz but funny as hell tho"

Pheobe Caitlin, "Jesus, you need to take this shit down, it's not funny"

Devin "Big D" Jamison, "Kek. Bunch of snoflakes on here"

Tracy Kerry, "Fuck you Devin, you racist piece of shit."

Devin "Big D" Jamison, "Not Racist. Just not overly sensitive like you dumb ass bitches"

Allen Barnes, "Im dying this shit is too funny"

Pheobe Caitlin, "God Devin, you're such a misogynistic asshole"

Devin "Big D" Jamison, "Thats not what you said at Lukes party"

Allen Barnes, "Bro she was so fucked up she prob dont even remember"

Devin "Big D" Jamison, "She remembers they dont call me Big D for nothin"

Joel Abrams, "Fuck you for posting this shit"

Noah Hoffman, "Seriously dude take this shit down, it's not cool"

Devin "Big D" Jaminson, "Kek, <@Joel> and <@Noah> just wait DayofTheRope"

Braxton Douglas, "Realist shit tho <@Conner> 109/110"

Conner's thumb hovers over the tiny blue "like" icon for a half-second before holding it down until the haha emoji pops up— he selects it and comments below, "<Insert Okay Emoji> anudda shoah 14words"

The front door opens— it's Mark. He quickly tosses his messenger back on the end table, "Sorry, buddy, give me five, and I'll be ready to go."

"It's whatever, we're already late—"

"Yeah, but it's going to be great! We haven't been to a game in ages—"

"That's because they suck."

"No way, we're in the wild card hunt," Mark says, jogging enthusiastically up the stairs, "We'll be there by the third."

Conner exits to the home screen on his phone and texts Braxton, "Sorry dude my dad is making me go to the game tonight"

"That blows

Sorry bro"

"Its cool"

"Enjoy watching the monkeys at the zoo"

"Lmao thanks"

Mark comes barreling back down the stairs dressed in a Rays jersey and ballcap, holding two weathered baseball mitts, "I grabbed our gloves just in case we get a foul ball."

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