Andy seemed to understand the weird relationship between me and Jeremy. To ease the conversation, I offered to bring an autograph baseball card for him and Julian tomorrow. Andy nodded, more enthusiastic than his usual plain expression. He must be an A's fan.
We spent the afternoon together as a group, trying out the different speeds of the cages, with Noah trying to start some kind of competition. Too bad for him there was nothing to bet on. Especially because he still owed me a spare bat. A bat that we looked for after having some fun outside.
"I think it's a good idea to get another bat, but why is Noah paying for it?" Julian asked as we looked around the few items that the old man had for sale.
"I lost a bet." Noah rolled his eyes.
"You did!?" Julian was surprised.
Noah glared for a second at Andy's back as he was browsing a different section. "Yea...sometimes I can't judge people as well as Jake here."
Julian gave him a pat on the head. "Poor kiddo. Jake has survival instincts. He's probably the best judge of character."
I turned away, feeling shy. I wasn't exactly the best judge. I'm very wary of strangers. And maybe a little more observant than most. I looked at the bats available, focusing more on the 'used' options because they were cheaper. I didn't want Noah to spend all his money.
"Well if isn't the 'Hustlers'?" The old man came out of his office and saw us in the merchandise area. "You boys need help finding anything?"
"Just looking at bats." Noah told him, walking his way. "Hey, when do we get to play against a better softball team? I feel like we keep getting the oldies."
The old man frowned at him. "Hey, show some respect. Some of these teams are just so they can get out an have fun." He pulled out his phone and checked it. "I believe the game you had to forfeit was against one of the better teams. Oh!" He paused.
"What? What is it?!" Noah tried to peek at his phone.
The old man put it away. "Tomorrow's game should be good. I'll even come to watch."
"Why? Who do we get to play?" Noah was beyond curious now. He was excited.
The old man laughed at his eager expression. "Tomorrow's game won't be just for fun. This a team that likes to compete for first." He turned to me. "Do you need any help finding a bat?"
I nodded. "I want to get another used bat, that's just like the one I have now." I pulled out and showed him Jeremy's old bat. The one I've been using since the championship game.
"Hmm." He took the bat and moved behind the counter where his employee was working. He used the computer as we waited patiently. He looked up. "I don't have any used bats in inventory that's the exact same, but I have a couple with the same weight and dimensions. The brands and prices vary though, but I'll pull them out to show you." He handed me my bat back and went around, picking up other bats.
Noah and the Wilson brothers stood off to the side, talking about tomorrow night while I played with each bat. Zeke had to take a phone call and wandered further off.
"You have a really good swing, young man." The old man told me, watching as I took the time to swing each used bat. "Want to hear some advice about how to not break bats?"
I paused and nodded.
He lifted one of the bats and pointed to the thinner part of the barrel. "Avoid getting jammed in a swing. The thinner the barrel is, the easier it is to snap." He moved to the thicker parts of the barrel. "Don't be hitting the same spot all the time in the cages. You'll weaken it."
I nodded, understanding. Noah and I had read up on bat care before.
"A bat is easier to break in colder weather." He told me. "The wood becomes more brittle. Make sure you aren't leaving it in damp places like the garage either."
I nodded.
"Did you pick one yet?" Noah came over.
I lifted the one that I felt comfortable with. "Yea."
Noah checked the price tag and sighed with relief. "Not too bad." He looked to the old man. "Well, this is the one he wants. Any discounts for frequent customers?"
The old man scoffed. "Brat." He moved back to behind the counter and rung up our order.
Noah pulled out his wallet and paid with a few twenty-dollar bills. "Worst customer service ever."
The old man laughed. "I'll see you brats tomorrow. Better bring your A-game."
"We'll win." Noah told him. He picked up the bat and gave it to me. "Let's go. Maybe Zeke will buy us ice cream before going home?"
I doubt it.
We joined the other three and sure enough, Zeke said no to ice cream with the excuse that it was almost dinner time. We split from Julian and Andy in the parking lot and headed home.
Mom was in the kitchen, cooking and Dad was in the office, on a call. Seeing them separated...I decided to approach Dad about my scars. I know I told Noah I would ask at dinner, but it was more difficult for me to talk about it in front of everyone.
I gave Noah my baseball bag. "Can you take this to the room? I'm going to go talk to Dad for a minute."
"Sure." Noah smiled. He followed Zeke up the stairs, leaving me on my own.
I moved to stand in the doorway of the office. It was messier than normal with papers scatters over every inch of the desk. Dad was still on the phone, but getting a look at me waiting, he quickly finished his call.
He smiled. "Hey, Jake. Did you boys just get back?"
I nodded, feeling a little anxious.
Dad picked up on my mood. "Is something wrong? Come in and sit down." He pulled the other office chair so it was facing him.
I went over and sat down. "I had a question."
"Ask me anything." He smiled with ease.
I put my hands together in my lap, trying not to look so desperate. "Can I...get rid of my scars..?"
Dad blinked. "You want to try and hide your scars?"
"Make them less visible and noticeable." I corrected, not liking the word 'hide'. I was already 'hiding' them. I didn't dare change in front of anyone in the baseball club room because I know how much attention it would get. "Noah said, that we could possibly get some kind of cream that heals scars..?"
"That's an option." Dad agreed. "But, given how you got those scars, I'd prefer if we went to a specialist."
"A specialist?" I asked, not understanding.
Dad nodded. "Yes, like a dermatologist. Your scars aren't just from a simple fall and cream might not do enough."
Oh. "Is it...hard...to see a dermatologist?" I asked, scared that it would cost too much or be too difficult.
Dad laughed. "It's not hard. Just a couple of phone calls and we can find one to make an appointment with. Don't worry about it."
I sighed with relief.
"Does the appearance of your scars bug you? Do you want to make an appointment with Dr. Moore? You haven't seen him in a while." He asked, concerned.
I shook my head. "I'm fine. I just want to change." Become less of the boy from that broken home and that broken woman. "I want to be more normal."
He laughed and reached over to pat me on the head. "There's no such thing as normal. Everyone is unique in their own way." He stood up. "I think dinner is almost ready. It's starting to smell pretty good."
I stood up too and took in a deep breath of air. "Yea." It did smell good. I felt less anxious. "Can you tell Mom for me?"
"Sure thing, kiddo." Dad smiled as we walked towards the kitchen.