Page 20 of Baseball and Shifters

Bill announces the guest team and their line up. There are a few cheers, but nothing like when they first started talking. Not until Jim comes back on and announces the Nightclaws.

“And now, for your home team… The Eldergroooove Nightclaws!” he drags out the name as the crowd goes wild. “Number eleven in your program, number 1 in your hearts, first baseman, Bastian ‘Bas’ Ranaaaa!”

The crowd erupts as Bastian runs out onto the field, waving his hand at the stands. I feel eyes on me but no one says anything after the conversation last night. I’m sure it doesn’t stop them from thinking it, though.

He is incredibly handsome. I’d have to be blind not to notice him. I’d never admit it, but I’ve kept an inconspicuous eye on him since the first self-defense class we had together. Something about him keeps drawing me in no matter how much I resist.

The announcer calls another familiar name and I frown even as my body heats from looking at him.

“Up next in Eldergrove’s line up is number 46, star pitcher, Liam Barker!”

Liam is also in three of my classes, but unlike Bastian or even Trent, he’s actively avoided me, giving me nasty looks anytime I get too close to him. I don’t know what his deal is, but seeing two of him on the field is disconcerting.

“Not one to be outshined, third baseman, and identical twin, number sixty-four, Lucas Barker, ladies and gentlemen!” Bill adds with a laugh as a slightly shaggier version of Liam runs onto the field with a huge smile and waves to the fans.

“Liam’s a twin?” Maya asks.

He acts like Liam’s opposite and I can’t help but think that’s a good thing. I don’t think the world could handle Liam’s attitude times two. That would be a lot of brooding.

“Oh! He’s in my Math class,” Dallas says. “He’s pretty funny. Gives serious golden retriever energy.”

Definitely not like Liam.

“Completing the dream team is number 7, Derrick, ‘D’ Ashford. Have you ever seen a more athletic catcher?”

The catcher steps out of the dugout and suddenly I can’t breathe. He’s got to be well over six feet tall and his muscles are nearly bursting out from under his pads. He raises a gloved hand to the crowd and releases a puff of smoke out of his nose before pulling his mask into place and crouching behind home plate.

When they call Trent’s name, Aubree, Maya, and Dallas cup their hands and boo. I would laugh if it didn’t draw the attention of half the team. Bastian, of course, is the first to look in our direction and his eyes widen as they lock on mine. I want to look away, but I can’t. It’s as if I’m caught in his snare. His full lips tilt up in a blinding smile.

“I’ll be back!” I blurt as I jump from my seat, breaking whatever hold he had on me.

“Where are you going? The game’s about to start,” Maya says as I step past her into the aisle.

“I’m gonna check out the concessions while everyone’s watching the game. Hopefully, there won’t be as many people out of their seats now that the game’s starting,” I rush out before taking off up the stairs away from whateverthatwas.

I take pictures as I walk around the stadium. The merch shop is bigger than I thought, shirts and jerseys line one entire wall. I find myself drawn to the lower shelf where this year's players each have their own section. My gloved fingers brush along the offerings until I reach Bastian’s. I stop only to find myself reading the last names Rana number eleven, Ashford number seven, Barker number forty-six, and Barker number sixty-four.

So the twins each got their own section that's good.

I shake my head, clearing the thought.

Where did that even come from, why would I care?

Making my way out of the merch shop, I decide to head for concessions next and then the trophy case. I know nothing about sports and even less about fans and what they expect from a sporting event. But I’m determined to ace this class,and that means coming up with the best marketing plan for the Nightclaws.

Trent thinks he has the upper hand because he plays here. Along with thinking he’s God’s gift to women, he thinks he knows everything there is to know. That will be his downfall. There’s always room for growth and improvement. If you don’t believe that, you’ll remain just as you are. I don’t think I’m the best graphic designer. But I want tobecomethe best.

I make several passes through the stadium, observing the fans interact as they watch the game and just taking the whole thing in. As I wander through taking pictures of anything I think may help, a plan begins to form.

When I get back to the concession stand, something catches my eye. A trophy case standing against the wall is calling to me. Making my way over to it, I scan the contents of the case. About half way down, I find something I didn’t know I was looking for. There, in the middle of this trophy case, sits a slightly faded photograph of my parents.

I didn’t know they went to this school.

My father looks younger and less cold. His arm slung over the shoulder of my mother, whose smile lights up the photograph. The caption on the photo reads “Ranger St. James, Eldergrove’s Player of the Year, and his mate Kara Anvers. Tears prick my eyes as I wish for maybe the millionth time that I could have met her, known her, had her love. But wishes won’t bring her back. I’m startled when someone clears their throat behind me.

“Ahh, Ms. St. James, here working on your project, I presume,” Professor Stone says with a warm smile.

“Yes, sir.” I nod. “I was taking notes and pictures when I came across a picture of my parents in this case.”

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