By Jonathan Henry
“Fly ball!”
Leo looked up just in time to see the baseball sail over his head. He scrambled after the ball as it bounced once, twice, before Leo’s glove closed around its battered skin. In one motion, he turned and hurled the ball, knowing without thinking to bypass the cutoff and throw directly to home as the batter was rounding third. It was a perfectly executed throw, straight and true to the third base side of home plate, but it was one second too late. The runner touched the base just before the ball thwacked against the catcher’s mitt. Leo closed his eyes as his team assaulted him with cries of annoyance for missing another easy out, punctuated by the fact that they were now down by a run in the ninth inning. Leo forced himself to pay attention for the rest of the inning although he was never given the chance to redeem himself. The opposing team increased their lead to three runs before Kaden, the pitcher, finally struck out the last batter.
“What the hell, man?” Kaden snapped as they exited the field. “How can you be zoned out every, single, time they hit a ball to you?” Leo was silent. He could say nothing to satisfy Kaden. The coach's son was pretty much regarded as too uptight by everyone else on the team. “Whatever man,” Kaden snarled. “This game’s over anyway.” He threw his glove on the ground and stormed off.
As the inning progressed, Leo amused himself by watching a line of ants carry a sunflower seed across the floor of the dugout. Leo saw a sense of purpose in the ants’ actions, and wondered where he would find his.
“Leo, you're on deck!” the coach shouted from across the dugout. Leo shot to his feet, snatched his helmet and bat from the rack, and hurried onto the field. He surveyed the game as he took a few practice swings. It wasn’t looking good. Down three runs, with two outs, Kaden was at bat, already behind in the count with two strikes. The only thing they had going for them were the runners on first and second. Leo watched Kaden’s bat connect with the ball, sending it just beyond the grasp of the second baseman. The centerfielder sent a rocket of a throw toward first and would have ended the game right there, but the throw was wide, forcing the first baseman off the bag. Kaden was safe, and the bases were loaded.
Leo stepped up to the plate and settled into his stance, his bat resting peacefully over his shoulder. As the pitcher and catcher conducted their usual antics, Leo noticed a mourning cloak butterfly fluttering in the grass a few feet in front of him, the white stripes of its wings almost glowing in the sunlight. The butterfly seemed oblivious to the game around it, or maybe, Leo thought, it was standing up in defiance of the chaotic giants disturbing a beautiful and peaceful day.
“Strike!” Leo looked up. The pitcher’s glove was already outstretched, waiting to receive the ball from the catcher.
“Leo!! Play the goddamn game!!” Looking right at Kaden, Leo stood in his own defiance to the laser beams shooting at him from first base.
“Strike!” Leo glanced back at the ball in the catcher’s glove. He heard a smack as Kaden slapped his helmet in frustration. Leo was about to drop his bat and walk off the field when his eyes found the still hopeful looks of his teammates from the dugout. Leo fixed his gaze on the pitcher; he was winning this game. He tightened his grip and dug his back cleat into the dirt. The pitch started out high and inside, but Leo knew it was moving down and away. Without even thinking, he brought the bat around to meet the ball at the plate.
The resounding crack echoed across the field. Leo didn’t even look up. He dropped his bat and slowly jogged to first base, where Kaden shook his head with an odd look that was part awe, part resignation, and part anger.
“If only you gave a shit,” Kaden sputtered before turning and taking his lap around the bases. Leo continued unperturbed, and only after his foot touched home plate was he tackled by his jubilant teammates. He shrugged them off and scanned the grass, hoping to find that butterfly, but it was gone.
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