Page 136 of Spotlight
Staring down at the drawing, I take a seat next to him.
“Heard the news,” he says by way of greeting. “Sorry they took your last start from you.”
“Thanks. I guess I should have seen it coming.” I hold up the picture Greer drew for me. “What do you see?”
“Cute,” he says. “Did Greer draw that?”
“Yeah,” I say. “Do you see what I see?”
“Uhh…” He glances at the picture and back to me several times. “Is this a trick question?”
I don’t answer.
“It’s a drawing of you, right?”
“Yes, it’s me, but what do yousee?” I stand and grab the first drawing she made for me. It’s been hanging in my locker since Greer gave it to me. Now I hold them up, side by side, for JT.
He gives them both a quick glance. “She switched the color of your uniform. That’s cute.”
“And?”
He cocks a brow. “And what?”
“Look at the pictures. What’s missing in this one?” I shake the new picture. I’m all alone. No Olivia. No Greer. Just me.
“Are you okay?” JT asks.
I let my hands fall and I slump back on the seat. “Yeah. Fine.”
“All right.” He looks me over but stands. “I’ll see you out there.”
* * *
I have never loved sitting on the bench, but it’s torture tonight. The guys are all giving me a wide berth. I don’t want to give myself too much credit, but it feels like my mood has infected the entire team.
We’re not playing like I know we can. Errors, sloppy fielding, slow bats, and shaky pitching.
It’s the bottom of the eighth inning and, somehow, we’ve managed to stay within one run of New York.
My leg bounces and I sit forward so my elbows rest on my knees. JT is next to me, and he keeps giving me curious glances and asking if I’m okay.
“Let’s go now, Bo.” Gunnar claps his hands as his friend steps up to the plate.
The pitch is fast and right down the middle. Bo gets a big cut of it and everyone in the dugout stands. It sails high out to center field and into the upper seats.
“Yes.” I make a fist and turn to celebrate with my teammates, but they’re already filing out to congratulate Bo as he steps across home plate.
I stay there, watching them and feeling like an outsider.
The energy shifts now that we’re tied. Two more guys get on base, then Gunnar hits a double, giving us our first lead of the game.
Freddie sighs and puts his head between his knees.
“Are you okay?” I ask him.
“I don’t think I can hold them off another inning,” he says as he sits back.
His relief pitcher tonight is Roger, a veteran with a mean slider, but he’s been struggling through some back pain lately. The trainers are out there with him, keeping an eye on things, as he warms up. His windup looks painful even from here.Fuck.
