Chapter Text
It was a hot and humid Wednesday in the middle of summer. No one really wanted to be there. Sure, the players of Inanimate Island’s Grand Slams did join the baseball team because they wanted to play in baseball games, but they didn’t necessarily want to do it when it was hot and at the time when they’d be home. But they really didn’t have a choice but to come, did they?
The Grand Slams’s team captain, Baseball, stood in front of the eleven boys and led them through the warm ups. The game was about to start, but they had twenty minutes or so before it officially started, so they might as well stretch. It was a hot and humid 75 degrees fahrenheit, and so the boys were thankful that their home jerseys were simply just white and cyan. Baseball was stretching his arms and counting out loud, and the other boys followed in behind him.
“One!” Baseball shouted.
“Two!” The rest of them shouted back.
“Three!” Baseball shouted again.
“Four!” The rest of them shouted back again. They continued shouting until they made it to ten, and once they were done with that, they’d do more stretches and shout to ten. The cycle repeated itself. It wasn’t necessarily a fun thing to do before games, but it was much better than practicing hitting and catching. Yeah.
Coach Phone ran over to the group, carrying his clipboard and wearing a cyan hat with the team’s logo on it. As the coach, he usually coached them on their hitting and led practices. This summer, the high school that all the boys on the baseball team decided to do something different and have another baseball season in the summer because of how good the team was and enter a baseball league with other schools that did the same thing, even if some were three hours away. However, the original baseball coach for the team got fired at the end of the school year, so the school quickly had to find a replacement for him, and the only replacement they could quickly who was also somewhat qualified was Mr. Phone, who taught digital media in the school year. However, in the summer, he became Coach Phone.
“Okay, everyone!” Coach Phone yelled, taking everyone’s attention away from the stretches. “I need to take attendance, so say if you’re here when I call your name.” The baseball players all groaned as Coach Phone said that. He pulled out a pen, clicked it a couple times, and started writing things down on his clipboard. “Balloon?”
The red haired short stop answered in a high pitched voice. “Here!”
“Baseball?” Coach Phone asked again.
“Here.” The team captain answered.
“Bomb?”
“H-h-here!” Bomb stuttered out.
Coach Phone continued listing off names. “Jack?” He was there. “Nickel?”
No reply.
“...Where’s Nickel?” Coach Phone asked, looking around.
“...I think he’s late again, Coach.” OJ, the ginger pitcher answered. “He’s always late to games.”
Coach Phone rolled his eyes. “Again? Does he even take these things seriously?” He scoffed as he marked Nickel absent. “Thanks OJ. Now, where did I leave off… Oh, yes! OJ?”
“I… I just said something to you!”
“Sure, but I need you to know if you’re here.”
“I’m right in front of you!” OJ gestured towards the place where he stood.
Coach Phone raised an eyebrow. “But are you here?”
“Yes!”
“I need you to say that you’re here.”
OJ groaned. “Fine… I’m here.”
“Good.” Coach Phone checked another thing off his clipboard. “Pickle?”
“Present.”
Coach Phone checked to see if Spikey, Trophy, Yang, and Yin were there, and then gathered them in a huddle. “Okay everyone, we may not all be here, but I have an important announcement.” The boys listened intensely. “In exactly three weeks, the championship for our summer league starts!” The boys gasped. “So we need to be prepared! We need to spend each game preparing for the championship, because the teams we face right now will also be the ones we face in the championship! So let's show the team today what we got!”
The boys looked at the other team, who were slowly funnelling into the field. Today, Inanimate Island’s Grand Slams were facing Dream Island’s Dreamers. Since the Dreamers were the team that came from away, thus being the away team, their jerseys were dark purple and a lime green. At a first glance, they were somewhat scary. The team was bigger, the players looked stronger, and they seemed to be more experienced. The Grand Slams were not prepared to show them “what they got”.
Coach Phone checked his watch to see the time. “Oh, look at the time! The baseball game’s about to begin!” He gestured to the Grand Slams’s dugout. “Get a drink of water or whatever you drink at games, and Floory will tell you guys the batting order.”
The Grand Slams all went over to their dugout. The dugouts of the Inanimate Island High School’s fields were poor and beaten up from years of being used without any refurbishments, which it desperately needed. They were also too small for the size of the baseball team, which was fine when the entire team wasn’t in it, but for the Dreamers' dugout, it was miniscule for them because of the size of the team.
“Are you guys ready for the game?” Balloon asked his teammates. He took a sip from his water bottle and sat down on the wooden bench of the dugout. As he sat down, the bench gave out from beneath him and it split. See? I told you it needed refurbishments. “Ow!” Ballon exclaimed.
Baseball helped pull Balloon up. “Great.” He muttered, looking at the now giant hole in the bench. “Well that’s just dandy.” He said, trying sarcasm for the first time.
Balloon tilted his head a bit. “Wait, why would that be dandy?”
“Balloon, it’s sarcasm.” Baseball answered.
“That’s sarcasm?”
“Yeah, you know, like the thing Nickel does.”
“Oh.” Balloon shrugged. “You’re bad at sarcasm.”
OJ walked up to the two as he adjusted his glove on his left hand. “To be honest, the Dreamers look like they’re way more experienced than–Woah.” He paused and looked at the broken bench. “What happened here?”
“The bench broke.” Baseball told OJ. “I guess it reached its time now.” He shrugged. “I…I don’t know if we’ll get it fixed soon. Actually," He looked around the dugout at his fellow players. “Uh, guys!” He yelled to get the players’s attention. “The bench just broke, so I would be careful where you sit!”
Trophy rolled his eyes. “Yeah, right. That area just had a crack in it, so everywhere else should be good.” He took a sip of his protein drink and sat down on the opposite side of the broken bench, and it also broke underneath him. “Um… That… That didn’t happen.” He said.
Baseball laughed a bit to himself. He really enjoyed being team captain. Sure, his teammates were all idiots and were hopeless when it came to everything but baseball, but they were his friends and he enjoyed their company. “What did I tell you?” He laughed a bit to Trophy.
Coach Floor, nicknamed Coach Floory, came running into the dugout. He was the assistant coach to Coach Phone, but the players adored him just as much, if not more. While Coach Phone handled the fun and game based things like practices and game strategies, Coach Floory handled the technical things like game schedules and other information. At school, he was their Physical Science, Horticulture, and Botany teacher. He loved the environment, and students would often find him at a park after school.
“I heard something break!” Coach Floory ran into the dugout, and then looked at the broken benches. “Oh. Well, that’s unfortunate. Uh, I’d suggest not sitting on the benches anymore. I’ll try to replace them sometime in the next week or two.”
“I tried telling them not to sit down, but they didn't listen to me!” Baseball exclaimed, pointing to Trophy.
Coach Floory turned to Trophy. “Mate, seriously? He’s your team captain. When Coach Phone and I aren’t around, he’s the guy you need to listen to.” He turned to Baseball and patted his shoulder. “Sorry, mate. I thought they’d listen to you after Coach and I appointed you to be captain.”
Baseball sighed as Floory walked away. “It’s okay. At least if they don’t listen to me, they’ll listen to their coach.”
As he said that, Jack sat down on another bench, and it crumpled beneath him.
“OH MY GOD.” Baseball groaned. He turned to the wire fence that split the dugout and the baseball field and started banging his head on it. “DO YOU NOT LISTEN?”
Jack seemed like he regretted sitting on the bench, but he quickly brushed his discomfort aside and made himself appear nonchalant. “Uh, no. Why would I?”
“Because I’m the team captain?” Baseball said as if it was obvious. It was really obvious.
Jack rolled his eyes. “I don’t care about that. I think team captains are a stupid concept.”
“And why is that?”
Jack thought for a moment. “Hmm… Where should I start…” The blonde baseball player started counting on his fingers. “You basically do the same things as the rest of the players. You never lead us or correct us on our behavior. And the cherry on top is that you just aren’t a good player.”
Baseball must’ve been hearing things. Yeah, he often ended up doing the same things as some of the other players in practices, and he probably could work on disciplining them. But he wasn’t a good player? No, that was wrong. He was appointed captain for a reason. “I’m sorry, what?”
“I’ve never seen you hit a ball this season.” Jack spat. “Not at practices, not at any of our games, not even when we actually have to practice hitting!”
Baseball was dumb founded. No, he has definitely hit a ball this baseball season. There was that one practice at the beginning of the year! Wait, no, that was last year… Actually, he did get that homerun… Nope, that was two years ago… Well, what about the time he hit that one ball—Oh wait. Nope, that was when tried playing baseball with his little cousins in the summer. Now that he thought about it, did he even hit a ball?
The captain shook his head. Well, if it was true, then he couldn’t deny it. The only thing he could do now was pivot away from the truth. “Well, uh, Jack, that doesn’t concern you, does it?”
Jack looked at Baseball blankly. “Uh, actually, it kinda does concern me because I brought it up!”
“Yeah, wait, he’s right…” Balloon spoke to himself. “Woah, have I really hit more balls than Baseball?” Balloon’s face lit up. “Woah! Does that mean I’m actually a good player?” Balloon laughed to himself.
“Everyone’s a good player.” OJ rolled his eyes.
Yang ran over to the group that gathered around Baseball and Jack. “Even me?!” He exclaimed. “Am I a good player?!”
OJ hesitated. “Uh… Yeah. You are a good player.”
“Yay!!” Yang exclaimed, jumping up and down.
In the nicest way possible, Yang was not a good player. There were two requirements that Baseball thought made a good player—Being good at playing baseball, and actually showing up to practices. Players like Baseball, OJ, Balloon, Pickle, and Jack were what Baseball considered to be good players. Trophy and Nickel were pretty good players, but they never showed up to practices. Bomb, Spikey, and Yin showed up to practices and always tried their best, but they weren’t on the same level as Baseball and OJ. At least they always tried. On the other hand, Yang never showed up to practices and was bad because he never practiced.
“Okay, guys, gather around!” Coach Phone yelled, pulling the boys away from the bench/captain/who’s-a-good-player conversation. Coach Phone held his clipboard again and examined the group of players. Nickel still wasn’t there. He sighed and wrote something down. “So the game is about to begin, and we’re up against the Dream Island Dreamers. Don’t worry though. They don’t seem that bad…”
Coach Phone looked at the other team. The players were a bit bigger than the Grand Slams, which didn’t matter, but the coaches looked somewhat professional. The coach wearing a black and grey shirt seemed to be the head coach and was about Coach Phone’s age. The other two looked like they were students who signed up to help be coaches, and had blue and yellow dyed hair. All three coaches seemed to be giving a pep talk to their players.
“...But that’s beside the point!” Coach Phone stopped himself from staring. “We’re gonna ace it! So starting the game, we’re going to have OJ as pitcher and Baseball as catcher. At first, we’ll have Bomb, Pickle at second, Balloon at short stop, and Trophy at third. For left, right, and center field, we’ll have Yang, Yin, and Spikey, in that order.”
Coach Floory stepped up next to Coach Phone. “And our batter order will be OJ, Jack, Baseball, Pickle, Trophy, Balloon, Bomb, Yang, Spikey, and Yin. If Nickel ever shows up, we’ll place him at the end.” Coach Floory checked his watch, and then raised his eyebrows. “Oh! We have a minute before we need to go on the field! Uhh, good luck everyone!” He exclaimed, before running to the side of the dugout to get the good baseballs that weren’t dirty yet or ripping.
Coach Phone shrugged. “...Okay then. Good luck guys! I know you’ll play great!” The group of boys looked at him, waiting for him to put his hand in the middle of the circle of players. He seemed to have forgotten.
“Umm… Coach Phone?” Yin asked, “Are we going to do our cheer?”
Coach Phone looked at Yin confused for a moment, and then realised what he meant. “OOHHHHH! Yes, sorry, I forgot.” He put his hand in the circle, and the players all layered their hands on top. “Grand Slams on three! One, two, three!” He exclaimed.
“Grand Slams!” The boys all shouted.
The boys all laughed to themselves as they left the circle to go to the field. Baseball quickly pulled all of his catcher gear on, and OJ waited for him so they could walk on the field together.
“You ready?” OJ asked Baseball.
Baseball nodded his head. “Yeah. Make sure they don’t hit.” Baseball joked with OJ as he pulled his mask over his head. OJ smiled and adjusted the baseball cap with the Grand Slams logo on it.
OJ looked at the crowd as he walked up to the pitcher’s mound. The baseball field had a small set of bleachers that could fit about 80-ish people when entirely full, though most people watching the game chose to sit on the grass or bring their own chairs. Today, there was a good crowd, with about 50-60 people watching, which was slightly above average. OJ assumed it was because the away team was slightly bigger than the Grand Slams, and family members probably had to come. He scanned the crowd, looking for his parents, and immediately found them talking to… Who was that…? It was Paper! OJ’s best friend!
OJ and Paper have been best friends since middle school after Paper had nowhere to sit. Soon after, they became immediate friends, and then turned into best friends a little bit later. They did everything together. They did the debate team, they played video games together, they hung out after school together. They did everything but sports together because OJ thought baseball was a great way to fill up time after school, and Paper loathed sports with a passion. But at the beginning of summer, Paper decided to try something new and auditioned for the school’s summer musical, and got a lead! OJ was incredibly proud of his best friend, but they had nearly opposite schedules, so they were barely able to hang out that summer, so seeing Paper at the game was a pleasant surprise.
OJ smiled to himself as him and Baseball practiced catching and throwing the ball while the Dreamers got ready to go on the field. As OJ threw the ball, he thought of the things he would say to Paper, like how their week has been since the last time they talked, or how Paper’s rehearsals had been. He could practically imagine Paper’s giggles and smile. The ball that was being thrown would go back and forth, and back and forth, and back and forth, and then back and forth, and back and forth, and–
“OJ!” Baseball shouted. “The game’s about to begin!”
Oh shoot! He needed to stop getting distracted by his friend! What an idiot OJ was…
As the game came to a start, OJ examined the first player up at bat. He had a tall and somewhat slender figure with bright orange hair that resembled fire. On the back of his purple and green jersey was his name, Firey, and his number, 14. Judging by the way he stood at the plate, he seemed like he knew what he was doing and wasn’t new to baseball. When Firey stepped back to practice batting, OJ noticed he swung a bit lower. Hmm… If OJ threw the ball a little bit high, which slightly below his shoulder, the batter would probably think it was out of the strike zone or just completely miss it. Yeah, that could work.
OJ took a deep breath as he got into position. He eyed the area where he’d throw the ball, and then thrust the little ball towards the batter. Firey flinched, but didn’t hit.
The umpire thought for a moment, then announced his call. “Strike one!”
Firey looked around, shocked and upset about the news. “Wha– But–!” He threw his hands in the air. “That wasn’t–!”
The umpire shrugged. “Sorry kid. It was out of bounds.”
Firey groaned, swung a practice hit, and then came back to the plate. This time, OJ probably should throw a curveball. Yep. That would mess Firey up.
OJ threw the ball again, and it curved down, and Firey made the mistake of not hitting again, making it another strike. Heh. OJ was pretty good at this. To Firey, he seemed to be upset at this. He threw his bat down and stepped away from the bat to get a deep breath, and then came back, a bit more calm. Firey seemed to be upset at himself for not hitting, so he’d likely hit anything, even a ball that was out of his strike zone. So maybe if OJ threw a ball purposely out of that poor batter’s strike zone, Firey would hit and get another strike. However, if he once again didn’t hit, he’d get a ball. Or, if he managed to hit it, he’d, well, hit it. Decisions, decisions. Well, OJ trusted his gut, so he went through with the idea.
OJ threw the ball away from Firey, and the batter took the bait. He swung at it, but it was slightly farther away from Firey, so he missed it.
“Strike three!” The umpire shouted, holding three fingers up. “Three strikes, you’re out!”
Firey threw his helmet on the floor, and then walked to the dugout, obviously distressed. The Dreamers tried cheering Firey up, but it really didn’t help at all. Meanwhile, the Grand Slams and people in the bleachers cheered for OJ, who was basking in the attention. It felt like he was a god.
Soon, the next batter walked up to the base. The back of his jersey read ‘Coiny’, and his number was 19. Looking at the way Coiny walked, OJ immediately could tell that Coiny wasn’t expecting this to be a hard game. OJ would probably just throw a pretty low ball, and Coiny would probably miss it, as that worked with most players.
OJ took another deep breath and got into position. He took a glance at where the other players were on the field, and how prepared they seemed to be if Coiny happened to hit the baseball. Finally, OJ threw the ball a little bit higher than he hoped, and Coiny hit the ball. As the ball and the baseball bat collided, it sounded like a gunshot, except OJ didn’t know what a gun shot sounded like, so it probably sounded like a gunshot.
The ball flew into the air, straight towards Bomb. He lifted his mit up to catch it. If he caught it, then the Dreamers would have another out. If he didn’t, then Coiny would probably get on base. OJ watched the ball as it soared right past Bomb’s mit, and right behind him to right field where Yin stood. Immediately, OJ knew that Coiny would make it to second base with the fact that Yin was the person to be closer to the ball.
Coiny ran past first base, and when he saw that state Yin was in with the ball, he quickly ran towards second base. Yin quickly scooped the ball up and threw it to Bomb, not realizing until after that Coiny was running towards second. Bomb caught it and threw it to Pickle, who fumbled a bit when catching it. However, that didn’t matter anymore because Coiny was already on the second base plate.
Great. Now the opposite team had someone on base. Oh well. OJ would just make the next batters strike out.
The third batter after Coiny, Eraser was his name, came up to bat, looking like he thought he’d do good. No he wouldn’t. OJ would make sure of that. When OJ threw the ball, Eraser missed. Strike one. When OJ threw the next ball, Eraser hit a foul. Okay… Maybe that was slightly worrying, but OJ was sure that the next ball would be a strike. He threw the ball once again, and Eraser hit it straight towards left field, right at Trophy’s face. It smacked him in the face, and he stumbled back a bit. But Trophy was a good player, so he grabbed it with his mitt and thrusted it towards Coiny, who was running towards him. Unfortunately, Coiny was already on third base, so it didn’t count.
OJ was getting a tiny bit frustrated at himself. And his team.
The next batter, Snowball, walked up to the plate. He was bigger than the rest of the Grand Slams, so if he hit the ball, it would probably have a lot of force. Now, OJ would throw the ball to the bottom of Snowball’s strike zone, so he’d probably miss that one. What a good strategy, right? Well, all of OJ’s strategies were good ones, so…
OJ threw the ball pretty low, smirking to himself. Snowball didn’t move. Ha. That would be a strike.
“Ball!” The umpire yelled.
Oh. Okay, not a strike. OJ just threw a ball that was a little bit lower, and that was fine. Yep. Pitcher was a hard position, so it’s very human for him to make mistakes. Yeah. What was important was to correct them, so this time, when he threw the ball, the ball would actually be in the strike zone. OJ threw the ball towards the bottom of the strike zone, and it—Oh. It was too low and it fell straight down onto the dirt before it even reached Snowball. That wasn’t supposed to happen.
Everyone looked at him, confused. Snowball, Baseball, the umpire, his other teammates, the Dreamers, OJ’s coaches, everyone.
The umpire declared it a ball obviously, and OJ was slightly more on edge. This time, OJ wouldn’t use any strategies and just throw the ball straight at Snowball. He needed to stop throwing balls that were too low. It was really silly of OJ to keep on doing that, since he was supposed to be the best pitcher in the Grand Slams according to Coach Phone. This time, OJ would throw the ball right in the middle of that stupid strike zone, and Snowball would miss it! Yes! Obviously!
OJ hurled the ball straight at Snowball, and he mis–OH MY GOD SNOWBALL HIT IT. OJ really wanted to go home and bang his head up against the walls of his room at that very moment, but he couldn’t afford to be that distracted as he watched the baseball soar above his head into the outfield. With the people in the outfield and how far the ball rolled, he knew that Snowball would make it back to the home plate along with the other players on the bases. He watched in disappointment as Yang, Yin, and Spikey fumbled to get the ball as Coiny, Eraser, and Snowball jogged to home plate.
This would be a long game.
ִֶ⊹ ࣪ ˖ ִֶָ 𓂃⊹ ִֶָ .࿔ ࣪˚｡⋆⚾︎
Balloon watched Baseball step up to bat, looking distressed. It was still the first inning, and the Grand Slams were currently losing 3:0. The Dreamers seemed to be on a roll, or at least think they were on a roll. Every so often, the Dreamers playing third base and left field would turn to the Grand Slams’s dugout to taunt them, and Yang would start unironically barking at them.
Currently, OJ and Jack were on first and second base, and had their eyes on Baseball, waiting for him to hit the ball so they could advance to the next bases. Baseball took a practice swing right before he got to the plate, and then adjusted his hands on the bat as he got into position. If it was true that Baseball hadn’t hit a ball the entire season, then what were the chances that he’d hit one in the future? Baseball was supposed to be the team’s best player, as he practically carried the baseball team in previous seasons by hitting many home runs, so if he didn’t do well this season, would that mean that the team wouldn’t do well? When the Grand Slams enter the summer championship, would they immediately lose? Would the season immediately end after that, leaving Balloon alone for the rest of the summer? If the season ended immediately, then he’d lose contact with the people that tolerated him like Baseball and OJ, and while they probably pretended to like him, he did enjoy their company a bit and would miss them. The baseball team had been Balloon’s only way of talking to some of his old friends, so would he ever get a chance to—
“Strike one!” The umpire yelled, pulling Balloon out of his spiral.
God, why was Balloon so distracted today? Nothing that crazy happened today. He just ate breakfast and went to his baseball game, and last time he checked, Springtastic cereal didn’t make people distracted.
Balloon watched as Baseball stepped back from home plate to practice a swing, and then stepped back to the plate. When the pitcher threw the ball, Baseball swung too low, making it another strike. Inside of the dugout, the Grand Slams groaned. Like Balloon, they must’ve all realized that Baseball wasn’t doing too well this season, and some of the better players, like Pickle and Trophy, must’ve been wondering why they weren’t chosen to be captain.
“Strike three! You’re out!” The umpire yelled, and Baseball treaded back to the dugout.
Baseball seemed really bummed out for striking out. Balloon really wanted to comfort Baseball, but he wasn’t really known for comforting others. “Uh, you didn’t do that bad! At least you knew if you needed to swing at something, even if you did swung terribly!”
Baseball gave Balloon a blank look. “...Did…Did you really just say that to me?”
Balloon gave Baseball a scared look. “Wait, did I say something mean?”
The captain seemed a bit hesitant. “Well, yeah, but I know that you meant it to be nice.” Baseball chuckled to himself a bit. “Geez, Balloon, I thought your days of being rude to us ended.” He joked.
Balloon chuckled with him, feeling really uneasy. Balloon knew most of his class since middle school, and was best friends with OJ, Bomb, and Pickle, while he was pretty chill with everyone else. However, one day, he was invited to sit with the popular kids during lunch, and he immediately became a popular kid. And popular kids don’t have time for nerds like OJ and Bomb, or pick me girls like Salt and Pepper, or recluses like Nickel and Baseball. Balloon was terrible back then, and as he entered high school, he realized how bad he was to everyone. He was a monster back then, and wouldn’t hesitate to put his old friends down with terrible, terrible words. But near the end of middle school, his popular ‘friends’ dropped him immediately, which started Balloon’s multiple year trauma of being alone and friendless.
No matter how much he apologized, none of Balloon’s old friends wanted to forgive him. They hated him, and Balloon knew he deserved it. He was lucky that Baseball and OJ were somewhat nice to him after what he did to them, as Pickle and Bomb would barely look in his direction.
“His rude days ended?” A familiar raspy voice questioned. “I’d expect them to still be going on.” Balloon and Baseball turned around to see who spoke, and were shocked to see that Nickel had finally arrived, wearing a dark blue and cyan jersey.
Unlike most people who ignored Balloon, Nickel was the worst in terms of his relationship with Balloon. For some reason, Nickel decided that he would start treating Balloon terribly. At this point, it was going way too far! He’d torment Balloon at practices by telling him he wasn’t doing good enough, he’d purposely misplace or ruin Balloon’s things, and would drive people away from Balloon by exaggerating the things he did. Sure, Balloon absolutely deserved what he was getting, but sometimes it would be a little bit too much. Twelve year old Balloon calling Nickel a “Broke little bitch” for trying to talk to him was certainly not equal to sixteen year old Nickel drowning Balloon’s poetry journal in the school’s sink.
Balloon backed away a little bit from Nickel and Baseball ran over to his friend. Nickel gave his friends and his team a smirk until he looked at the broken bench. “Heh, did you guys miss—Woah, what happened here? Did Baseball’s fat ass break the bench?”
Baseball shook his head. “No, it was actually Balloon, Jack, and Trophy who broke the bench. Also, you’re wearing the wrong uniform.”
Nickel gave Baseball a blank look, and then frowned. “...Oh. Well, does that even matter?” He looked down at his uniform. “It’s just a jersey. I’m sure it’ll be fine.”
Words couldn’t describe how upset Baseball looked at that moment. He just stood there, looking angry, so Balloon had to interject to save Baseball from yelling at his friend. “Uhh, Nickel, why did you arrive so late? The game is pretty far in!” He gestured over to Pickle, who was up at bat.
Nickel sharpened his eyes. “God, Balloon, it’s none of your business!” He barked. “Why are you always so judgemental?”
Balloon frowned. He was only asking because he was worried about Nickel, but part of him was a bit upset that Nickel was late… The team really wanted to do well, and they wouldn’t if Nickel never showed up! So Balloon had the right to be a little bit judgemental!
Balloon huffed. Why was Balloon so upset about this? Nickel probably had a good reason to miss the game so Balloon was just making a big deal about nothing. Since Pickle was hitting, or, well, striking, Trophy was to the side of the dugout, practicing for when he’d hit. After Trophy, Balloon would be up afterwards, so he might as well get ready. He went to his bag that hung on the side of the dugout to fish out his hitting gloves and bat. The gloves were white, as most gloves usually were, and his baseball bat was a metal (Or whatever material baseball bats were made of) bat with red stripes. Most of Balloon’s teammates had boring black or brown bats, but Balloon liked how his was different and unique.
“Strike three! You’re out!” The umpire yelled, and Trophy took Pickle’s place at the plate while Pickle returned to the dugout.
Balloon adjusted his baseball helmet on his head. Balloon always hated his helmet because it was heavy and kind of hot, and it always messed up his curls, but he had to deal with it. Balloon practiced swinging, imagining he was at a professional baseball game where people were cheering for him because they loved him. He was the best player on his team, and his team members all looked up to him. In the crowd of the stadium, everyone would be there. Baseball, Pickle, Taco, Suitcase, Salt, Pepper, OJ,—even Nickel would be there! They would all be cheering for him, yelling things like “We love you, Balloon!” and “You’re so likeable, Ballon!”
Balloon looked at Trophy and the pitcher from the side of the dugout, and imagined that he was in Trophy’s place, while also imagining he was at his professional baseball game. He watched as the pitcher threw the ball at Trophy, and Balloon imagined a baseball flying towards it. In his imagination, Balloon hit the ball like a firecracker, and it would soar into the sky! It would go all across the stadium, and as Balloon ran the bases, the crowd would cheer his name. Everyone would love him. Unfortunately, in real life, Trophy missed the ball. With only two outs so far, Balloon was crossing his fingers that he’d be able to go up to bat before the inning ended.
He returned back to his imagination. After Balloon’s amazing hit, fans would flock over to him trying to get his autograph. He’d have to turn down all of them because he had to meet up with his many, many friends he’d make in the future, but a little kid asking Balloon to sign his waterboarded journal would ask Balloon to sign it. Of course, Balloon would smile at the kid and sign the journal, as well as tell him that his feelings mattered, and it would get better. Then he’d go to a local diner and meet up with his friends and—
“Have you talked to Suitcase recently?” Baseball asked Nickel. It was likely that Baseball’s rage had subsided since he was talking again.
Balloon froze up at the mention of his old friend. It had been a while since he’d seen Suitcase after what Nickel did to her. How long, maybe two months? Three months? Gosh, Balloon missed her. As Balloon froze up, Trophy did too, as he didn’t hit the ball. Another strike.
“Yeah. I saw her yesterday at the store. We talked for a bit.” Nickel answered. Balloon unintentionally eavesdropped on what he was saying, as he deserved to know how his old friend was doing. “I think the only reason why she bothered to talk to me was because she was bored. She said that was moving to another school because her mother thought her mental health would be better at a new school. I think she was lying though.” Nickel said, indifferently.
Balloon gritted his teeth and gripped his baseball bat harder. What Nickel said was terrible. Suitcase had always had mental health problems, and Nickel knew it, especially after what he did to her. He had no right to act so carelessly about Suitcase and her problems, especially after what he did to her all those months ago!
This time, when Balloon imagined hitting the ball, he imagined that he would be hitting the ball right at Nickel, and Nickel would fall over and his nose would be bleeding, and he would regret everything he’d done, and he would be begging for Balloon’s forgiveness. Actually, wait, that was…Dark. And violent. But also poetic, in a way. The baseball hitting Nickel could represent Nickel learning the truth of how terrible he was. Actually, that was really poetic. Violence aside, Balloon was actually pretty proud of how he was able to create such a good metaphor. When he got home, Balloon might write that down in his new and dry journal, which would later be published when Balloon became a famous poet or baseball player, whichever came first. And then—
“Strike three! You’re out!” The umpire exclaimed, and Trophy went back to the dugout. Balloon sighed, removed his helmet, and walked back to the dugout to grab his mitt so he could play in the field again.
ִֶ⊹ ࣪ ˖ ִֶָ 𓂃⊹ ִֶָ .࿔ ࣪˚｡⋆⚾︎
Nickel sat in the dugout. Well, sat was the wrong word. Baseball would fry Nickel alive if he dared to sit on the already broken benches. Nickel just stood awkwardly in the dugout as he watched the players play baseball. He sure was having a swell time in the dugout with OJ. It was the final inning. About halfway through the game, Coach Floory and Coach Phone made the ‘brilliant’ decision to switch OJ out with Jack because they thought that OJ was overworking himself a bit, but they all knew it was because OJ was throwing bad pitches that benefitted the Dreamers. Right now, the score was 8 to 6 with the Grand Slams losing, which was miraculous considering how bad the Grand Slams did at first. OJ, Jack, Pickle, and yours truly were the only people to score, with OJ and Jack managing to hit twice.
Nickel really disliked hanging in the dugout. Sure, it could be relaxing sometimes, but it felt like he was missing something big when he wasn’t on the field. From the dugout, he would notice everyone’s mistakes. He saw how Spikey dropped the ball when he was about to catch it, he saw how Trophy freaked out a bit when a bee landed on his shoulder, he saw how Balloon threw the ball not far enough, which was a common flaw of Balloon, and he saw how nervous Baseball was. If Nickel was on the field, he was sure he could help his team by yelling at them to fix their mistakes, especially Balloon. Balloon sure did point out a bunch of Nickel’s mistakes for making his own fair share of mistakes in his past and present.
Nickel turned to OJ, trying to start up a conversation about how the Grand Slams were doing, but OJ was locked in on looking at the crowd watching them. He seemed to be lost in thought, so Nickel didn’t say anything to bother him. See? Nickel could show kindness sometimes if he wanted to.
The game was pretty boring right now. Jack would throw the ball to the batter, the batter would hit the ball somewhat far, someone would catch it and struggle to throw it, and the batter would be safe. The cycle repeats. It was… Really boring. Nickel would look at everyone, and when he looked at Balloon, he would suddenly be filled with rage. Stupid Balloon. He hated Balloon.
The hatred all started in middle school. Nickel and Balloon weren’t exactly friends, and they more just had the same friend group before Balloon left everyone to go hang out with his new friends. One day, Nickel and Balloon were assigned to work together for a project, and Balloon noticed that Nickel wore the same outfit the previous day and called him a ‘broke ass motherfucker’ or something along those lines. What Balloon didn’t know was that his washing machine broke earlier that week and his family couldn’t afford to go to the local laundromat for a month. So yeah, obviously Nickel would only be broke with his run down tennis shoes and dirty shirt he got from a goodwill compared to Balloon’s high quality sweaters and expensive watch.
As the years went on, the hatred only grew. Balloon lost his popular friends, probably because Balloon pushed them away too. He always acted like the victim in high school for having no friends, and would always point out every flaw. Nickel got sick, especially when Balloon tried stealing and manipulating his childhood friend, Suitcase. That crossed the line, so Nickel had to send Balloon a message by taking his notebook he used to write in after he got into an argument with Nickel or someone else, and he drowned it in the bathroom sink. Balloon cried crocodile tears when he found out, and Suitcase barely talked to Nickel again after that. Nickel missed his childhood friend, and he was sure that Balloon felt no guilt for taking from Nickel, like Nickel hadn’t had everything taken from him already.
On the field, Balloon was locked in as Balloon could be, so that meant Balloon was distracted by the birds in the sky. When the ball came flying towards Balloon, it bounced right off the top of his mitt and onto the ground. Balloon quickly grabbed it and looked around for the nearest player to him. The nearest player was running towards home plate, and Baseball had his glove up for Balloon to throw to him. Balloon threw a weak ass throw that barely reached Baseball, and Baseball quickly grabbed it after a moment, but wasn’t able to touch the player before he touched home plate. How wonderful. Another point for the Dreamers. Just what the Grand Slams needed.
As the inning went on, Nickel zoned out. He was pretty sure that Jack was throwing balls that the current batter kept on missing, which was a pretty good thing. Then Nickel’s stomach rumbled. When was the last time Nickel had eaten? It was breakfast, right? He was pretty sure that he ate leftovers from yesterday’s dinner because the milk was spoiled. He told himself that he’d get a cup of fruit and nuts from the ice cream shop he worked at, but since his dad wouldn’t answer his phone calls to pick Nickel up, Nickel had to cut his rest time before the game short to run home to get his uniform. Unfortunately, the damn washing machine broke again, so his home uniform was still covered in dirt from last week’s game, meaning Nickel would have to wear his away uniform. Hey, at least he wore a uniform! And once again, his dad wasn’t answering his phone calls, so he had to run to his game again! But all that yapping aside, Nickel was still hungry and needed food.
Despite all the fat jokes Nickel and others made about Baseball, Nickel knew that Baseball didn’t eat that much, so going through his baseball backpack was probably a useless move on Nickel’s part. But then again, Baseball was the type of guy to have random snacks like trail mix or a protein bar in his bag ‘just in case’, but the food would just end up going stale from Baseball forgetting that they existed. Nickel unzipped Baseball’s baseball bag, and started looking through the big pocket for it. It just had extra cleats, an extra mitt, an empty water bottle, and random baseballs that had girls’ numbers on them, which ended up being fake. Then Nickel checked the second biggest pocket, and found batting gloves and pieces of gum. Nickel smiled, thinking he found the jackpot, but it was actually raison flavored gum, which Nickel was surprised that it existed, but he wouldn’t try it. Then, losing hope, he checked the front pocket, and found an unopened bag of Bigs Taco Bell Taco Supreme Sunflower Seeds. Sweet.
Nickel ripped open the bag of sunflower seeds and shoved a handful of them in his mouth. The Bigs Taco Bell Taco Supreme Sunflower Seeds sure did taste like Taco Bell. He turned around and looked at the field, and saw the Grand Slams coming back to the dugout. It was probably time for the Grand Slams to go up to bat for the last time. Cool. If Nickel was correct, Spikey would be the next to go up to bat, followed by Yin, and then Nickel. Hm. It seemed like his snack break would be over quickly.
Balloon walked into the dugout, probably thinking that he carried the inning. He definitely did not. He took a look at the Bigs Taco Bell Taco Supreme Sunflower Seeds bag that Nickel was holding and Baseball’s open bag, he immediately connected the dots. “Nickel, did you just take those sunflower seeds from Baseball’s bag?” He asked judgementally.
Nickel nodded his head. “Yeah? And? Why do you care?”
“Cause you just stole from him without asking.” Balloon answered.
Nickel snorted. “Ha. I’m sure you know a lot about stealing without asking.” Nickel shoved a seed into his mouth. “Y’know, with Suitcase.”
Balloon’s face fell immediately. “I-I never stole her! You know what? You know a lot about stealing too! Like how you stole my poetry book and Suitcase’s mental health!”
“Don’t you dare mention Suitcase!”
“I WILL mention Suitcase because she’s my best friend and what you did to her was unacceptable!”
“What I did?!”
“Guys!” Baseball yelled, breaking the two boys up. “Stop fighting!” He took a deep breath as he pushed himself between the boys. “Balloon, can you help Yin find his bat? Yang hid it from him because he doesn’t want him to find it.”
“And he’s never gonna!” Yang yelled from the other side of the dugout.
Baseball furrowed his brow. “You’re literally in high school, dude! Stop acting so childish.” He shook his head as he sighed. “God… So Balloon, can you help him?”
The curly haired boy shrugged. “Yeah, sure.” He walked off. Good.
“Nickel, I need to talk to you.” Baseball started. “Listen, why are…” His eyes got caught on his Bigs Taco Bell Taco Supreme Sunflower Seeds. “Why are you eating my sunflower seeds?”
“‘Cause I was hungry.” Nickel put more seeds into his mouth. “Want some?” He offered the bag to Baseball.
“...That’s my bag, Nickel.” Baseball shook his head. “But that’s besides the point. Nickel, you really need to stop picking fights with Balloon.” Nickel opened his mouth to protest, but Baseball shushed him. “I get that you have beef with him after all that he’s done, but it’s seriously messing with the team dynamics. Also it’s really distracting both of you guys.”
“But you saw him!” Nickel exclaimed. “He wanted to pick a fight, so I gave him what he wanted!”
“Sure, but there’s a time and a place!” Baseball exclaimed. “And second of all, you really can’t show up the way you did today! We have a schedule to follow and a strict dress code. What you’re doing shouldn’t fly, but me and the coaches give you a lot of slack because you’re a good player. Too much slack! In fact, you’d be off the team if you-”
“Oh my GOD!” Nickel yelled, throwing the bag of sunflower seeds onto the bench. “I get it! I know what I did wrong, so no need to be acting like that!” He threw his batting gloves on. “God… You’re sounding like my dad…” He muttered.
Baseball’s face softened. “Wait, Nickel, I’m sorry–”
“It’s fine.” Nickel spat, grabbing his helmet that he found at the back of a sports store and the bat he permanently borrowed from Coach Phone. Spikey was going up to bat. “It’s okay. Some people like you just don’t understand that some people don’t have their own car nor their own working washing machine. It’s fine though. Totally fine.” Nickel stormed to the other side of the dugout.
“Wait, Nickel!” Baseball yelled, running up to Nickel. “Is your washing machine broken again?” He asked.
“Yep. Now why don’t you say that a little bit louder so the entire field can hear you.” Nickel snapped.
“Why didn’t you tell me? I would’ve washed it for you.” Baseball offered.
Nickel was silent. He knew why he didn’t tell Baseball. It was because he didn’t want to ask for help, especially with a problem that related to his family’s money. “It doesn’t matter anyways.”
“Nickel, why?” Baseball repeated.
Nickel rolled his eyes, pushing away all his feelings, and replaced him with the important feelings: Baseball (as in the sport). He grabbed the chain fence that separated the dugout from the field. “WHOOO!!! GO SPIKEY!! HIT THAT BALL OUT OF THE PARK!!! WOOO! WOOO!”
“Nickel, stop that!” Baseball yelled.
Nickel threw his bat onto the dirt as he climbed onto the fence and started shaking it. “WOOOO!!! SPIKEY!!! LET’S GO!!! BE THE SPIKE!!!” The members on the Dreamers all turned to Nickel, really concerned and distracted. The Grand Slams were all used to this though, so they didn’t really bat an eye.
“Stop it!” Baseball grabbed Nickel by the collar and pulled him back.
The pitcher threw a ball at Spikey, and he missed. The umpire declared it strike three and an out, and Spikey returned to the dugout, Yin moved to the plate, and Nickel moved to the side of the dugout. The Dreamers all looked at him, wondering what was wrong with Nickel. They all looked at him, confused. Oh, and one of them was Coiny, Nickel’s cousin. Nickel waved at him and then flipped his cousin off, smiling brightly. Nickel counted every time that Yin swung weakly at the ball, and each time the umpire declared it a strike. When Nickel went up to the plate, he put on a fake smile and he chewed the remaining pieces of Bigs Taco Bell Taco Supreme Sunflower Seeds in his mouth.
Nickel analyzed the pitcher. He had long dreads that were dyed green at the end, and the back of his jersey read ‘Gelatin’. He smiled, but not in the passive aggressive way Nickel was smiling. In the way where he only had one brain cell. Nickel got into position to hit. He crouched down, leaning back a little bit, his left foot in front of his right. When Gelatin threw the ball, Nickel stomped forward a bit and swung at the ball with all his might.
He missed.
“Strike one!”
Nickel stepped back and did a practice swing. Then he stepped back up to the plate, ready to hit the ball for real again. He got into position, and when Gelatin threw the ball, Nickel stepped perfectly this time, and he–Missed. Again.
“Strike two.”
It seemed that Nickel would need to enact his special move. That’s okay. He stepped back and practiced the move subtly before swinging, and then stepped up to the plate. He got into position, and when Gelatin threw the ball, Nickel quickly looked where the ball flew, and leaned into it. The ball crashed into his arm, and Nickel stumbled back on purpose. What a perfect plan.
“OWWW! OWWW!!!” Nickel yelled. “UMPIRE! UMPIRE! He hit me!” Nickel pointed at Gelatin, who suddenly put his arms up. “OWW!!! THE PAINN!!!! Umpire, do I—OWWW—Do I get to go on the base???”
The umpire seemed to be at a loss for words. “Umm… I… I guess.”
Nickel threw his bat to the dirt and smirked before he started limping to first base, and then remembered that it was his arm that got injured, so he just walked like normal. When he was at first base, he looked at the dugout. After Nickel, it would be OJ, then Jack, then Baseball. Good. Nickel would be able to go to home plate this game twice. Fan-fucking-tastic.
ִֶ⊹ ࣪ ˖ ִֶָ 𓂃⊹ ִֶָ .࿔ ࣪˚｡⋆⚾︎
Baseball walked up to bat, his hands holding tightly onto his bat. Jack’s little comment earlier was really messing with him now. How had Baseball not even hit a single at all this season? He was supposed to be the best hitter this season! What was wrong with him to make him struggle this bad?
Right now, all the bases were full. Nickel was on third base because the pitcher ‘hit’ him with the ball, and OJ was on second and Jack on first because they both hit the ball. They usually got a hit every game, so that was expected. Baseball was somewhat shaking where he stood. Since the score was 8 to 6, that meant if Baseball hit a homerun, they could get three more points. Baseball was known for getting home runs in the last innings of games, so if he really locked in, he could bring his team to victory. What a good plan. But then he remembered that they already had two outs, and if Baseball struck out, then the Grand Slams would lose.
Baseball stepped up to the plate. The pitcher, Gelatin, seemed a bit bored, as if he wanted the game to end already. The catcher, Snowball, seemed annoyed at how long the game was going on. Hopefully Baseball would be able to end the game soon enough with at least three more points. He got into position, and Gelatin stretched his arms a bit before throwing the ball. It zipped right past Baseball, and he swung a second too late.
Dammit.
“Strike one!”
He stepped back and swung his bat again. What was the weird feeling he was feeling right now? Anxiety? Nervousness? Fear? No, he couldn’t be feeling those. It was literally just a baseball game, so he couldn’t be upset about issues like this.
“Come on, Baseball!” Nickel yelled from third base. “Bring us home!” It seemed that Nickel’s weird episode was over, and he was back to his snarky self.
Baseball returned to the plate. Gelatin adjusted his grip on the ball, and then threw it at Baseball. He swung, and then the ball whipped right past him into Snowball’s glove. Too early.
Shit!
“Strike two!”
Baseball stepped back and swung violently at the air. Something was seriously wrong with Baseball. Why was he struggling this much? This wasn’t supposed to be how a captain should be playing. The team captain was supposed to the ball at this point, and probably hit it out of the ball park at that.
He stepped back up to the plate. This time, he wasn’t going to hit the ball too late, nor too early. He was going to hit the ball perfectly, and he was going to feel the force of the ball coming towards him, and then it would soar into the sky. Nickel, OJ, and Jack would run to homebase, and then everyone would cheer for him as their captain, and Jack would take back everything he said about Baseball. Yeah, that would be great.
Gelatin threw the ball straight at Baseball, right in the strike zone. Baseball swung, but right above the ball.
FUCK.
“Strike three, you’re out!”
Baseball threw his bat to the ground, making it bang against the gravel. What was wrong with him?! He was so, so stupid! The team captain can’t even hit the ball! He was the worst team captain in the history of baseball! No, the history of all sports! He was genuinely so stupid, and needed to fix his life.
Nickel walked up to Baseball. “Hey, Baseball, you know you did good right?” He said, trying to help Baseball.
“Stop lying.” Baseball spat. “No I didn’t! I can’t even hit a stupid ball! I’m incapable of doing good, it seems!”
“No, no, Nickel’s right!” OJ ran over to Baseball. “You're a great captain, you were probably just stressed! I was too at the beginning of the game, so don’t worry!”
Baseball shook his head. “No, no… You don’t get it! I’m just a failure.”
Jack walked past OJ and smirked. “Baseball’s right.”
“Hey, jackass!” Nickel yelled to Jack. “Shut up!”
Baseball felt this weird feeling in his eyes. What, was he about to cry? No, he wasn’t going to cry. Boys don’t cry. Team captains don’t cry. Man, he must be really pathetic for wanting to cry. He turned around to hide himself from Nickel and OJ, and went to the dugout to get his bag. All the pockets were open from when Nickel went looking for snacks. Typical Nickel. He slipped his helmet and bat into the bag, and then pulled the bag over his shoulders. If he wasn’t going to cry on the field, at least he could cry in his car, where no one would see him. But unfortunately, Coach Phone and Floory had made everyone stay back for a little chat.
Coach Phone smiled at everyone. “I’m so proud of each and everyone of you.”
Everyone but Baseball, probably.
“Today, we may have lost, but don’t let that bring you down.” He continued. “You all played a great game today, with many, many hits, and great catches. You all should be as proud of yourselves. Now,” He gestured to Coach Floory to get the clipboard. “We aren’t that perfect though. We’ll be having practice on Friday and Saturday.”
The players all groaned.
“I know, you want to spend your summer relaxing, but you all chose to join the baseball team.” Coach Phone shrugged. “I hope you all have a good day. I’m going home now to eat cookies by myself–I mean with my wife!”
All the players knew that Coach Phone definitely did not have a wife, but they weren’t going to point it out.
“Um, so, have a good day, everybody!” Coach Floory exclaimed. The boys all nodded or said goodbye to their coach before going out of the field to the stands to see their family members and loved ones who came to see them. As they were leaving, Baseball saw the Dreamers all cheering for their win. Baseball felt guilty because he knew he was the reason that the Grand Slams didn’t get that opportunity.
As Baseball navigated the crowds of people who came to see the game, he was looking for his parents. They used to come to all of his games because they had to drive him, but now that Baseball could drive, they’d come to a handful of games because they had work and other issues. Baseball really didn’t mind that they didn’t come since he wouldn’t want them to see their ‘star baseball player’ fuck up the game. He went straight to his car, looking at his entire team. Nickel had already left the park, Balloon was talking to his parents about how well he did, and OJ and his friend that came to see him were talking about making plans the next day. While he was distracted, he accidentally walked into a girl.
“Ah!” He exclaimed, stepping back. “I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean to! I was really distracte—”
Baseball was cut off by a really pretty girl turning around. It took a moment to realize who it was, and when he saw her, he was blown away. It was Clover, the prettiest and one of the most popular girls in school! She was always nice to Baseball in the halls and said hello, but Baseball was never able to work up the courage to have a real conversation with her. Now, she was right in front of him, smiling and looking beautiful.
“Oh, no, it’s okay Baseball!” She giggled. “I saw you during the game! You did really good!” She complemented him.
Baseball could feel himself turning red. The prettiest and popular and nicest girl was complementing him? He was having a bad day at first, but now, he was questioning himself. “Oh, um… Thank you!” He blurted out. How was he supposed to respond to that?
Clover smiled. “No problem! You’re a great player. You're the team captain, right?”
“Y-Yeah.”
“I could tell! The way you were directing the team was great!” She said. “See, I do theatre, so none of us are really captains in the way that you’re captain, so I was impressed by you!”
“Thanks.”
“You know, I only came here because I didn’t have rehearsal and I wanted to see how interesting baseball was, and now I’m a fan! Say, when’s your next game?”
“Sunday. Same time as today.”
“Oh, that’s perfect!” Clover clapped her hands. “I volunteer at the butterfly shelter in the morning, so I’ll be able to catch you guys!”
A pretty girl who’s nice and volunteers at a butterfly shelter? She was way out of Baseball’s league. “Yeah… That’ll be great.”
Clover smiled and giggled, making her sound like an angel straight from heaven. “See you soon, Baseball!” She waved at Baseball before skipping off into the parking lot to go to her green jeep.
Baseball just stood there for a moment. He just got to talk to the prettiest girl ever, and all he could muster out was that? God, he was pathetic. But he was also… Happy. Even though he lost the baseball game, he won in a way because he got to talk to Clover.
Maybe today wasn’t so bad.