Almost Home

Chapter Six

It's the end of the sixth inning and the Frogs are leading the opposing team by two runs.

Easton is pitching a great game just as everyone expects. Carson, on the other hand, is beginning to look a little sluggish.

It's hot this afternoon, way hotter than usual. The sun is beating down on everybody not under a canopy, which are those not in the dugout.

I'm suddenly even more grateful than before that I agreed to keep the book because if I hadn't, I'd be sweating bullets in the stands right now.

The boys on the field are absolutely drenched in sweat, Carson the worst of them all as he's decked out in gear.

When a ball is slightly lower than the strike zone, his glove doesn't turn fast enough and skips in the dirt beneath him, flying to the backstop.

He stands, stumbling, planting one hand in the dirt to steady himself before locating the ball and throwing it, sluggishly, out to Easton.

Easton immediately gloves the ball and calls a time-out.

I sit up straighter on the bench, my neck craning to watch the exchange, my hand clenched down tightly around the pencil.

The play is called dead as soon as the boy steals third.

Weakly, Carson removes his helmet, revealing sweat-dampened hair and a red, nearly swollen face.

His jersey clings to his skin, revealing his skinny frame. He looks dazed, maybe a little confused.

Coach Kelley joins the scuffle seconds later, draping one of Carson's arms over his shoulders and half-carrying, half-dragging him into the dugout, plopping him down on the bottom row of the bench.

"Carly," Coach Kelley's gray eyes meet mine, "I need you to go get him ice."

"I'll get it," the blonde boy from earlier stands, already heading towards the side door before I can protest.

In the meantime, Coach gets to work unbuckling Carson's gear, shimmying the chest protector over his sweat-soaked head and neck.

Without being asked, understanding the urgency of the situation, I get to work on the shin protectors, unbuckling them with shaky hands, one-by-one until the left leg pops off.

Coach Kelley takes off the right one, much faster than me, and before I have time to stand, the blonde boy appears with two, huge bags of ice - one in each hand.

I step back as the boy and Coach gets to work cooling my brother off, another boy handing him a bottle of water.

Carson is already looking a little better, his skin returning to its normal color, his eyes losing their confused glaze.

Mom, dad, and Lydia turn the corner, worry laced into all of their eyes, especially my mom's.

She practically melts when she sees him there, despite the fact that he looks, more or less, normal, if slightly sweaty.

Taking a seat on the bench next to him, mom takes his hand, "Carson?"

"Mom," Carson laughs, but it's wheezed, "I'm okay - just got a little hot."

I notice, then, the entire team surrounding us on the outside of the dugout, all of them looking hot, tired, and mostly scared.

Easton, the most.

Mom reaches towards the buttons on Carson's jersey to cool him off further, but he squirms away from her, cheeks burning, though I can't tell if that's from embarrassment or the lingering effects of his heat problem.