"Come on, Pom Poms, give us a little cheer."
My head slowly turns around to the obnoxious male next to me. He eyes me with a little smirk, looking me up and down. I fake a smile, lifting my middle finger into the air. "Is that a good cheer for you?" My tone is sickeningly sweet, and I force a giggle at the end. Someone's got to embrace the dumb blonde stereotype, even if it's for show.
He grumbles in response, and I can feel an arm slung around my shoulders. It's Vylad. He's enjoying himself at one of Garroth's games. "Do I get to call you Pom Pom?"
"You can if you want a cheer too."
He slowly unravels his arm from around me, dropping it down by his side.
The bleachers are cold and hard. The lines press against the fabric of my jeans. I wrap my arms tightly around my torso, a side of my lip in between my teeth. I understand baseball. I may not understand everything, but I know a great deal of it. Just like soccer. I don't understand some of it, but Laurance's many years playing has forced me to understand at least the basics.
"Does he have to dirty his pants like that?" Kandi groans, the sound of disgust linger on the tip of her tongue. Garroth's right pant leg is filled with sand from sliding into a base. "Not only does he make the car smell disgusting, he also makes it dirty."
"I've learned to give up on that question," I comment, shrugging to myself. Laurance can be filled with dirt, and he's always layered in sweat. It's disgusting, but it's inevitable.
Vylad gently elbows me in the side. He quickly stands to his feet, and his hand reaches out to mound to the pitching mound. It's in between innings, and Garroth is beginning to practice a few pitches.
I follow Vylad by standing on my own feet and stand next to him. By him being ever so slightly taller than me, he's blocking most of the wind. Kandi's leeching off of us for warmth because we're taller than her.
"What made them think to make Dante catcher?" I question out loud, quickly looking around to make sure his mother isn't around. She isn't, so she must be working a night shift at the hospital. I know how much she wishes to be at this game, but Dante understands that sometimes she can't control her schedule.
"The coach? He's a perfectly fine catcher," Kandi comments.
"He's afraid of the ball!"
"Shut up," Vylad hisses. "You'll get into mom's recording." Mr. We-Need-To-Stay-Calm is cranky.
Their practicing doesn't last very long. It's a matter of mere minutes before calls are called in, and there's a quick throw down to second as a practice throw from Dante. I'll give him this: his aim is pretty good.
Silence falls onto the crowd and both teams as a batter steps onto the box. A righty, how boring. The first pitch Garroth throws is a strike due to a swing. I glance over to Zianna, ending her video and starting again.
Another pitch, Dante fails to stop the ball. "See?"
"It was a ball."
I roll my eyes. I don't understand why I am insulting Dante. He isn't a bad player. Certain moves he makes makes me question if he is actually afraid of the ball, but I know he's yelled at in the dugout for them. It makes a person feel sorry for him. They all make mistakes.
It's weird wearing your brother's sweatshirt but watching your boyfriend's game. You can't cheer more for him than any other player on the team because that seems unfair to people unknowing of your relationship.
My hands grip tighter onto Laurance's sleeves as the remainder of the inning speeds by. There's only a single inning left, and they're starting at the top of the batting order again.
Zianna hands her phone over to Vylad to film Garroth's hitting, so she can cheer without yelling into the camera. He doesn't seem to mind doing this.
Garroth walks back out of the dugout after the other team practices on the field one last time. In order to get to the batter's box, he is walking in our direction. We're directly in front, still standing up, until Vylad leads us to sit down again. I question if he's looked in our direction. It'd be hard not to when Zianna is cheering for him before he's even made it to the plate.
The game doesn't last much longer before the teams are congratulating each other and disappearing into their respective dugouts. The four of us pack up our few belongings and wait for Garroth to come out.
"You were gripping that bar pretty hard there, Al," Vylad comments.
We're standing near the dugout. I can hear the conversations inside and the sound of clanking bats. "You would too. He had two on him. Getting an out right away sucks."
He shrugs. "I guess. The score was close."
I know Vylad doesn't care much about baseball. He never has. He goes to Garroth's games because he is a supportive brother. Also, because the rest of us go out with the team for celebratory dinners, and Vylad loves pizza.
Garroth's body emerges from the dugout exit. He smiles at us, and my nose crinkle at the smell the wind takes from him. "My Irene, you stink!"
He looks at me in mock offense. "Thank you, girl who I was going to take to prom."
"Of course, boy who didn't ask me."
