After receiving a stack of papers printed out from his computer, Dr. Walker handed them over to Mr. Atkins and started reiterating the instructions. He provided examples of what I should eat and how often I should eat so I can get to the national weight average for boys my height.
"If I can gain more weight, will I grow taller too?" I cut in, feeling more than a little self-conscious about how short I was.
Dr. Walker gave me a friendly smile. "Nothing is guaranteed, but I'm positive you'll grow at least a little. Don't let it worry you too much. I've known some young men, who were completely healthy, and they didn't have a growth spurt until after they graduated high school. I've also known some who peaked at 5'8" in elementary school. It's all based on genetics and random luck."
"Genetics?" I thought back to when Noah and I discussed how tall I could be. So there's still hope. I won't be this short forever.
I happily got off the table and prepared to leave. Dr. Walker finished handing off papers and instructions for me to Mr. Atkins. I was to come back tomorrow for the lab work and to make an appointment with Dr. Moore. The thought of making an appointment with his made my smile disappear. It was like a new thing every week between him and I. Would I have to see him for the rest of my life?
I shook my head at the thought. There's no way. I'm sure there's an end to this journey. One day, I'll be completely okay, inside and out.
After saying our goodbyes, Mr. Atkins led the way through the halls and we found our way out. It was almost ten at night as we got in the car and started to head to the house.
"When do you think you would like to see Dr. Moore? I can call him tomorrow morning to see if he's available in the afternoon or we can wait a day?" Mr. Atkins asked as he kept his eyes on the road.
I shrugged and looked out the window. "Whenever."
He was quiet for a minute as we drove through the town, then he spoke up. "Were you not feeling well because of the perfect game? I remember during Kyle's, you got sick afterwards because of the pressure. Was it the same feeling?"
I gulped. "I don't want to let anyone down."
"You didn't, Jake. You did great! Two of the outs were all thanks to you."
"But I almost messed up..."
"But you didn't! You got it done. On the scorecard, they don't state how ugly the play looks or how it was a close call. It states the facts. You threw out the runner by fielding a grounder."
I guess. Just-I hate knowing it could have gone another way. It's the same feeling when I look back on the time I spent with my mother. If I had spoke up to someone then, my life could have been different. Or what if she had killed me instead? Or maybe if my dad and brother stuck around, they could have gotten her to be a different person. I don't like the feeling of the unknown.
"And what about your batting?" Mr. Atkins changed the topic. "You were awesome at the plate. 4-4. You were responsible for half the runs. You can't just look at the negatives in life. You have to balance it out with the positives so you can stay level-headed."
Oh. That's true I guess. If I balance out my batting talent with my crappy fielding that should make me mediocre. But is that good enough to be on varsity? "Do you think I belong on the team? Or that I'm just receiving special treatment?" I faced forward, but glanced over to Mr. Atkins.
"I honestly believe that you belong on this varsity team." Mr. Atkins said with conviction.
"But?"
He tapped the steering wheel. "We live in a smaller town compared to other schools. It's why we're not a division one high school. There aren't another players. Which means there's also a lesser chance for talent. It's still early so you haven't seen much in baseball. University Prep was an eye opener right? Well there, you probably wouldn't make their freshman team. They have a higher standard for quality. That's not to say we don't too. It's just we have to make do with what we have."
"So I shouldn't be on the team?" I felt depressed even though I never really wanted to be on the team. I only wanted to play with Noah. Now I was having different thoughts.
"That's not what I said. It's like this. You're great at batting, but still learning the importance of fielding and positional play. In a big school, they have plenty of kids who can bat and field, so they wouldn't need you. They would probably ask that you practice fielding on your own before trying out again. Meanwhile at Watsonville, your bat can make up for the lack of skill in fielding. The coach has less options to choose from so it's better to take players who are great in one area and then just help them learn the other. Take the twins for example. Great pitchers. Sometimes. They can at least get the ball into the strike zone. But neither of them can hit to save their lives."
I stifled a laugh.
"It's okay to laugh." He smiled. "That's just the way it is. They understand it too and that's why they try even harder at what they're good at. But that doesn't mean they stop practicing their hitting. That's important too." He glanced at me. "Just let the coach do his job. If he wants you in, then he has a reason. He knows how to balance a team out."
I nodded thoughtfully. Somehow I felt better with Mr. Atkins explanation and examples. Even though he practically said I wouldn't be able to play in a big school with my nonexistent experience, he still thinks I belong with this team.
Mr. Atkins parked in the driveway and we went inside the house. Surprisingly, all the lights were on and everyone was up even though it was late on a school night.
"Jake!" Noah heard the door open and raced through the hallway to tackle me. Since I was still in just my socks, I couldn't stand very steady on the tile. Noah didn't help at all. With him weighing me down, I fell on my butt and he landed on me. "Oops. Sorry." He got up and started to pull me up to as everyone else filled up the foyer area.
"Why didn't you call or text? I was getting worried." Mrs. Atkins scolded her husband.
"Ah, my phone must have died. Everything will be fine though. Come look at this." Mr. Atkins passed over the paperwork. "Jake doesn't even weigh a hundred pounds."
"Oh my lord." She looked over the papers. "I can't believe he's so underweight. We need him to eat more from now on."
"More often too. He gave us some suggestions." Mr. Atkins started to point out the key points, leaving me with the boys.
"You punk! You had us worried!" Dave grabbed me out from Noah's hands and started to swing me around. "I turned to celebrate my perfect game with you and you were passed out!"
"I'm okay. I just napped." I said plainly, kind of used to being treated like their toy.
"Who would have thought that both perfect games would be ended by you!" Kyle joined in.
"Hey! I was the one the make the stop in your game!" Noah argued.
"Yea, but it was a double play, and Jake was the one to get that second out. Too amazing."
They argued, Dave swung me around recapping the game as if I had amnesia, and Zeke just watched us from the side. Looking at him reminded me of his fly outs and how he didn't do as much as me at the plate today.
Maybe that's just balance too. No one can be perfect at the plate. Noah has told me that multiple times. As long as you're batting an average of .300 then that already means that you're good. Zeke has multiple multi-hit games so I guess it'll have to balance out eventually. He still had two hits so there's nothing to worry about.