Almost Home

Chapter Three

"Right hand, please," the ticket taker marks the top of my hand with a bright red 'x,' taking care to make sure if I choose to exit the park for any reason, I can get back in without paying again.

Lydia and I follow my parents, weaving in and out of other spectators until they finally find four, straight seats.

Unlike yesterday, the arena is packed.

The seats, luckily, are directly behind our team's dugout, so we can watch, peering over the top of the large building, as they get warmed up for the game.

Being directly behind the dugout has its benefits and downfalls.

For example, we're up close and personal with the team, so we can hear what they're saying, but that also means we can hear what they're saying.

During batting practice, Carson hits well, driving the balls into the flex net, as does Easton.

My parents stare in awe as Easton bats, like he's a real-life celebrity or something.

Maybe he is.

Before long, a team clad in blue, silver, and white uniforms take the field and our first batter steps into the box.

He strikes out looking, but the second batter redeems his teammate, landing a solid hit out to left field, earning him an easy single.

If he had been slightly faster in his base running, it could've been a double.

As my brother steps up to bat, my mom, dad, Lydia, and I all lean forward in our seats to see better.

Knowing him his entire life, I can visualize the look of pure concentration etched on his face, can see the slight downward turn of his helmet as he locks eyes with the pitcher.

The first pitch comes in fast and Carson, not expecting it, fouls one down the first-base line.

Quickly learning from his mistake, the next pitch come fast down the middle and my brother drives a nice one out the right field line.

Now, with a runner on first and second, we all watch, filled with anticipation, as Easton jogs up to the plate.

He takes his time outside of the box, taking a practice swing and knocking the dirt off of his cleats before settling his feet into the rectangle, jaw locked and arms tense, ready to land a hit.

On the very first pitch, a curveball by the looks of it, he swings and makes contact with the baseball, which skips all the way to the fence in centerfield.

The dugout explodes, as do all the fans around me, my family included.

I can't bring myself to look away as the boy on second rounds third base to head home - a risky move, but a move that Coach correctly calculated.

He dives in, head first, nearly knocking the catcher onto his butt as he does so.

The dust settles and ..

The umpire makes a wide, sweeping gesture with his arms .. safe!

On third base, I hear Carson yell.

On second, Easton claps, his chest rising and falling rapidly from his running, a wide grin broken across his face.

Both boys score, eventually, and the top of the inning draws to a close.

As the Frogs take the field, I turn to Lydia, "Can I ask you something?"

Lydia smiles, looking flattered that I'd come to her for advice, as if I don't always do so, "Of course."