my parents switched me to Eastwick. Me and idle time have never been a good combination. Usually ends up with me in detention, suspended, in the hospital, and once in handcuffs. In my defense, the cow followed me home so I don’t consider that stealing.
Coach Reynolds cocks his head in amusement. “Of course academics is your priority. I would expect nothing less.”
He thinks I’m being cryptic, but I’m not. Dad told him I was considering retiring and this lunch was meant to convince me to change my mind. On the record, according to Coach Reynolds, it’s not that type of lunch. Just a meet and greet. Recruitment is illegal, but that doesn’t stop it from happening.
“Did you know that Logan finished all the courses Bullitt County High had to offer in his junior year?” Mom pipes up.
“I did.” Coach Reynolds smiles while sipping his Coke. “I’ve also heard he has exceptional ACT and SAT scores. Had a talk with your guidance counselor. She told me about the summer institutes you’ve been asked to attend. If you play summer ball for us, I promise practices and games will never interfere with any of that.”
Dad watches my reaction. He doesn’t get worked up by much. Believes what I do in my spare time is my hobby to choose, but me going to college—that’s his dream. Dad finished high school and isn’t quiet about wanting more for me than minimum wage and backbreaking work. These summer institutes promise potential college interviews.
Coach Reynolds picks up on Dad’s change in body language and pounces. “Our guidance counselor says Logan has a ton of universities hunting him down. Just think how much more marketable he’ll be with another baseball championship under his belt.”
Mom sits taller in her seat. “You should see his IQ scores. They’re off the chart. They say intelligence comes from the mother’s side.”
Dad chokes and Mom shoots him a rare dirty look. I drink to hide my smile. Mom’s smart—even has a fancy degree from a fancy university, but she prefers horoscopes to science.
“Moving schools between your junior and senior year—that takes courage.” Coach moves the conversation back to me. “Joining the team will help you make friends fast.”
Most people would be torn up about the decision to switch schools, but my best friends graduated this past spring and so did half my baseball team. Then a week after graduation, two of my three baseball coaches announced they were transferring schools. Within a heartbeat, I was left behind.
I yank on my baseball cap and push the salad around in the bowl. Being left behind. Can’t say that felt good.
“I don’t want to play this summer.” I cut to the meat of the issue. “I need some time off.”
Dad looks thoughtfully over at me. I hadn’t said this to him yet, just stated that I was done with ball, but like Dad’s already aware, I do change my mind. I’m not passionate about baseball like my best friends Chris and Ryan. They live for the game where I just enjoyed being with friends and the rush of playing catcher.
“You’ve been around enough,” Coach Reynolds says. “You know how we like to play on rec league teams during the off-season to keep the guys in shape.”
“I know.” My eyes meet his and he’s reading me. Nothing he’ll do or say will convince me to give up my summer goals.
“So explain to me again how the diabetes works,” the coach says, switching the subject either because he’s curious or because he’s buying himself time to convince me to change my mind.
Dad and I share a brief glance while Mom acts like she’s the authority on me. Coach Reynolds drenches his last French fry in ketchup as he nods at Mom’s basic explanation of sugar levels, glucose testing, and insulin shots.
My mouth waters when he pops that fry into his mouth. To play the “I’m responsible game” with my parents, I’m eating a grilled chicken salad. I hate vegetables. Can’t describe the undeniable amount of hate I have toward all things green, but lately, my blood sugar’s been off.
Doctor says it’s normal—my hormones fluctuating. Mom says it’s negative energy. Dad wonders how responsible I’m being with managing my diet, exercise, and testing routines. Dad and the doctor could be tied for the win.
“So you’re saying I don’t need to worry about anything?” Coach Reynolds balls up his napkin and tosses it over his empty plate. “That Logan’s responsible about all this and will be able to take