Page 50 of The Plan

She rolls her eyes like this is just a minor inconvenience in her day. “I didn’t tell your coach.” She goes to walk away, but I take a step to the side, blocking her from leaving.

“Do not fucking walk away from me.”

She scoffs and takes a step closer. “Or what, Sire? Hmm?” Holding eye contact, we challenge each other, and when I don’t say anything, she walks away again.

“I shouldn’t even be surprised since this is routine for you.” She stops in her tracks and turns back around. I can see on her face that she knows exactly what I’m talking about.

“I already told you I didn’t say shit to your coach.”

“This time.” With the distance between us, it feels like we’re screaming at each other. Maybe we are, but I couldn’t care less.

“There wasn’t betrayal involvedthis time,so no. I didn’t tell your coach. Now get the fuck out before you end up with a medical reason to be here.” She walks to the cart and starts angrily organizing things.

“Fuck you, Vidia.”

“I’m sure you want to!”

“Go to hell!”

“You first, dickhead!!”

Storming out, someone bumps into me. “Get out of my way.” My voice is low, and when I look down, it’s some guy wearing the same white lab coat as the little shit in the room, but then I realize he works back at the team's doctor's office with her.

“I am so sorry. I heard yelling and wanted to make sure Vidia was okay.” Why the fuck does he care? Not bothering to ask, I walk past him and go back to the dugout before the game starts.

I can’t believe her. Actually… I can. It’s always been her way or no way, so of course she told my coach I needed to take it easy. I don’t need shit. I kick a random ball before sitting on the bench. This is torture.

I get up as the game starts, and Noah throws some warm-up pitches, all looking good. Once one of the players comes to the plate, though, he starts fucking up his pitch left and right.

Our coach takes his hat off and rubs his head as Noah walks two people. “Fred, he’s nervous as fuck out there. This is our first game, an away one at that, plus we’re against the fucking Yankees. Just put me in!”

We both turn our heads when the umpire yells at us. “Watch the language in the dugout!” Dick. I don’t say anything else, but I grow even more upset as three people score on us, and everyone in the damn field makes stupid mistakes.

“Fred, there’s no point in putting me in whenever the hell you decide to swap us if they have twenty points on us.” Just as I say that, Noah throws the ball toward August to catch a steal, and he misses, letting it go right over his head, and two more people score. We’re off to a horrible start.

“Stop acting like we only win whenever you play, son. We’re losing because our captain is acting like a child instead of supporting and encouraging his teammates.”

I pace around the dugout while I think, and he’s right. I should be encouraging Noah. He’s a rookie and is probably even more nervous because he’s in my spot. I’m sure he thinks I’ll most likely be pissed at him, and I am pissed, but it’s not his fault I’m not opening today's game. I stop pacing and turn to watch the game quietly.

The inning ends horribly but the team quickly makes their way towards the dugout and forms a circle around Coach Fred and I. Noah is the first to speak up as he nervously scratches his arm. “Coach, I think you should put Griffin in.” He keeps his eyes on the ground and looks discouraged.

“No.” He looks up at the sound of my voice, and I continue. “He wouldn’t have put you in if he didn’t think you could do this, so stand up straight and get your head in the game.” He nods and stands up a bit straighter.

August looks at Coach Fred like he’s about to plead for me to be put in the game, so I speak up before he does. “I’ll get put in whenever Noah needs to be swapped out, and that’s not anytime soon, so erase the speech from your mind, bro.” He gives me a confused look, and the rest of the team put their heads down.

What the fuck is wrong with them? “Okay, all of you need to stop acting like we already lost. They only have five up on us.”

Diego, our catcher, speaks up next. “Yeah, butyou’renot playing.”

Coach shakes his head and then says, “It doesn’t matter if Sire isn’t playing. We win games because we work as a team, not because we rely on one player.”

Diego still doesn’t look convinced. “Yeah, but—”

I interrupt him before he can discourage the team any more than they are. “But nothing. You guys don’t need me to win. You need a good pitcher, and you have one, so put some more faith in our teammatenow.”

My voice comes out demanding, and they all stand up a bit taller—now I’ve got their attention. “Noah, shake those nerves. Throw strikes and stop letting them get on base.” He nods in agreement.

I turn to August to scold him next. “You. Stop letting them steal. He threw you the ball, and it went right over you.”

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