yeah, I forgot. The game. I figured I’d be out celebrating with Anne...”
“But what? You ever gonna tell me what happened?”
“Sooner or later, I guess. Just not now.”
Ollie watched the city pass by as he stared out the window. At the same time he shot down any attempt Keith made to get him to talk, he appreciated that he was trying. He didn’t feel quite ready to talk, but he was glad someone was trying to listen. The scenery of city buildings changed into farmland over the course of the twenty minute drive, which meant they were arriving at the ballpark.
“Ollie!”
“What?”
“Come back to earth, man! I told you three times. You’re up. You won last time, so you’re up first.”
Ollie took out his wooden bat and waved it around a few times to warm up his arms. He filled in the holes next to home plate and packed the dirt tightly so he could firmly plant his feet. He threw a small handful of dirt into the air to test the speed and direction of the wind, which was carrying slightly toward left field. He dusted off the plate and held his bat out in front of himself at waist height to show Keith exactly where he wanted the pitch to be thrown. Keith snagged a ball out of a pile of baseballs and reared back as if he was going to throw, but then he stopped.
“What?” Ollie asked as he relaxed his stance and let the bat drop back down to the ground. “Throw it.”
“So what did happen with you and Anne today?”
Ollie lifted the bat back up, ready to swing. “Don’t worry about it. Throw the stupid ball.”
“That’s what I thought.”
Ollie was completely caught off guard when the first pitch came in hard and hit him right on the left elbow. He dropped his wooden bat and cupped his right hand over his throbbing elbow. “Oww! What are you doing?”
“Oops.”
“Slow it down. You can’t aim when you throw hard.”
Ollie dug in again, forcing his mind to think about how he was going to use the wind to his advantage. He should have at least suspected it this time, but he still didn’t react quickly enough to get out of the way.
The next pitch hit him directly in the rib cage. He doubled over in pain, then hurled his bat at Keith.
“Nice,” Keith laughed as he watched Ollie’s bat bounce end over end toward second base. “You’ll be lucky if you didn’t crack it.”
Ollie pouted a little and walked out to grab his bat. He looked down the barrel and felt it with his hand, spinning it as he felt it. “It did crack, you jerk.”
“I’m the jerk? I’m not the one throwing bats at people.”
“You’re still a jerk. Where’s my other bat?” Ollie drew a brand new replacement bat out of the bag and peeled the price sticker off the barrel. He walked back toward home plate to take another swing.
“I’m not the one refusing,” Keith said seriously, “to talk about whatever happened with Anne. What, you have me help you plan the whole thing out, and then you won’t even talk to me about it once it’s done? I thought I was your best friend.”
“I know, dude. I just don’t want to talk about it right now.”
“Right.”
“What’s that supposed to mean; ‘right’? Did I break a rule about having to talk about things right after they happen? Just give me some time.”
“Time for what? More time means more holes in walls and you know it.”
“I guess.”
“Fine. I’ll leave it alone. And I promise I won’t hit you with the ball anymore.”
“You won’t hit me because you know I can throw harder than you and you’re going to have to step into the box sooner or later.”
Ollie dug his right foot into the dirt, lined up his knuckles around the grip of the bat, and looked up to Keith for the next pitch. The pitch was perfect. Ollie shifted his weight back and transferred that weight forward, snapping his wrists at the perfect time as the bat crossed the plate, but the ball popped straight up in the air. Keith jogged nonchalantly out toward third base and easily caught it.
“Caught it,” Keith chuckled. “That’s worth two outs.”
“I know what it means. Just throw the ball.”
Ollie dug in his right foot again and started to line up his knuckles again, but noticed when he did so that there was a slight crack along the wood grain above the handle.