“It’s okay,” Jason said, stepping around his friend. “Look, do you want to listen to me or get banned from this league?”
The coach closed his mouth, hands on his hips, eyes smoldering. His expression warned that nothing Jason could say would appease him.
“The rules of this league demand that the runner slide for a close play at home.”
“What kind of rule is that?” The coach remained angry, but sounded less certain.
“A rule to prevent nine-year-old catchers from being hospitalized. If your runner had beaten the throw, I’d make an exception, but he was tagged and only made it home because he didn’t slide. Next season, learn the rules, then teach them to your players.”
“Ump’s right, Leo,” the scorekeeper drawled from behind the backstop.
The coach sneered but had no reply. He glanced around at the parents staring at him from the aluminum bleachers, then turned to glare at Jason, as if blaming him for the embarrassing display.
Jason raised his eyebrows.
The coach returned to his dugout.
“Good job,” Matt said, clapping Jason on the back. “Way to keep cool.”
“I have to remind myself these guys are just somebody’s dad, desperate to see their kid win. In a way it’s nice that they care.”
“Sports turn a lot of people into hotheads,” Matt said.
Jason took a deep breath, trying to dismiss the incident. “Should we get out of here?”
“Sure.” They started walking toward their bikes. The teams huddled up to shout cheers. “Are you coming to Tim’s party tonight?”
“The pool party? I don’t know. Maybe.”
“Come on,” Matt urged. “It’ll be fun. It won’t stay warm forever.”
“We’ll see.”
“Which means no,” Matt sighed. “At some point you should consider rejoining the living.”
Jason was unsure how to respond. How could he explain what was really troubling him? His friends assumed that his reclusive behavior was due to his newfound infamy following the four months when he had dropped off the map. His disappearance had made the national news, as had his sudden reappearance after most had assumed he was dead. True, his absence had created some serious hassles. There had been dozens of interview requests. While some reporters were supportive, others had accused him of faking the incident, of deliberately hiding. Plus, the lost time had complicated his schooling. After counseling with his parents and teachers, Jason had spent much of the summer finishing packets of work that would enable him to advance to the next grade in the fall.
His real problem was not being able to tell anyone the truth. He had been to another world. He had made friends there, and enemies. He had risked his life and had accomplished great deeds. And he had returned home against his will, leaving behind tons of unfinished business. He had left a girl from Washington stranded there. And he knew a vital secret that would change how the heroes of that world tried to resist the emperor Maldor.
How could he explain any of this to Matt? To his parents? No matter what evidence he produced or details he supplied, nobody could possibly believe him. These burdens had to remain private. Although his experiences in Lyrian consumed his thoughts, if he tried to share what had really happened, he would wind up in a mental hospital!
Of all his friends, Matt had tried the hardest to be there for him. After returning from Lyrian, Jason had quit playing baseball. His prior goals as a pitcher had seemed insignificant compared to his new concerns. But he still loved the game, so he had volunteered during the summer as an umpire for a couple of the younger leagues. The volunteer gig carried little pressure and required much less time than actually playing and practicing. Matt had volunteered as well, just to hang out with him.
“I’m sorry,” Jason said. “I’m no fun anymore. I’ve warned you, my head is a mess. I wish I could explain.”
“Don’t worry about it,” Matt said, grabbing his bike. “Who wouldn’t feel a little different after all you’ve been though? Nobody minds. Nobody who matters. If you could just relax, you’d see that not so much has changed. Who cares whether you pitch or not? Everyone wants you around again.”
“Thanks,” Jason said, stuffing his umpire gear into a sports bag. “I’ll try to come.”
Matt studied him. “We could go together. Want me to swing by?”
“Better not.”
Matt nodded knowingly. “How about some lunch? You hungry?”
“I’m good. Maybe I’ll see you tonight.”
Matt shrugged. “Have it your way. Catch you later.”