Total pages in book: 72
Estimated words: 70741 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 354(@200wpm)___ 283(@250wpm)___ 236(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 70741 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 354(@200wpm)___ 283(@250wpm)___ 236(@300wpm)
“Safe!”
I looked at the ump, my blood boiling, and felt my entire body go stiff.
The umpire wasn’t helping things. Not only were my boys playing bad, but the umpire was making calls that were clearly in favor of the other team.
“All right, boys. Bring it in!” I called.
My players brought it in, but a whistle from the far side of the dugout had me turning to see the principal there, gesturing me over.
I grimaced when I saw the superintendent of the school district standing beside her.
Son of a bitch.
“All right, boys. Pay attention to the song. Talk quietly amongst yourself. I’ll be back.” I patted Johnson’s hat with the tips of two fingers, and he winked at me.
Normally, I’d have left the team in the assistant coach’s hands, but since the assistant coach was busy teaching the JV team currently, they didn’t have anyone to distract them while I likely was on my way to getting my ass chewed.
Every step I took in their direction was purposeful and measured.
I’d just about gotten to them when I saw Raleigh at the entrance to the field next to the end of the dugout, trying valiantly to help Morgan Bryce get over the hump that separated the grass from the other side of the fence.
I let out a sigh of relief when I saw what it was the superintendent and the principal had needed.
The weight of Morgan’s wheelchair made it nearly impossible to get over the hump.
“You singing for us, Morgan?” I asked, hopeful.
Morgan shrugged. “Yeah.”
I laughed. “Don’t sound so excited about it now. You might pop a blood vessel in your exuberance.”
Morgan snorted. “Help me out here, will ya?”
I went to the back of his wheelchair and finagled him out onto the field, patting his shoulder as I did. “Can you get there the rest of the way?”
I eyed the wheels on the wheelchair, and then the thick grass and dirt that separated him from the microphone that they’d set up for him to sing “God Bless America” and likely “Take Me Out to the Ballgame,” too.
“Yeah, Coach. I’ll be fine,” he said, then started off.
“Thanks,” Raleigh said. “I just didn’t have the power in my thighs to get him going, and his wheelchair battery is low. Something about the charge not holding? I’m not sure. But you saved the day.”
I winked at her, then turned to the other two individuals still standing there.
The superintendent was a big guy, almost as big as me. He could’ve just as easily helped, but then he might’ve gotten his shiny loafers dirty or something.
“Mrs. Sherpa. Mr. Powers.” I nodded my head at them.
Raleigh hissed in a breath, and I looked at her.
Her eyes were directed at something across the field, and then she was running.
I turned to see what was going on and cursed before starting off after her.
I did have to say, though. Raleigh was quick.
She only tripped over thin air twice before making it to Morgan’s side, who was down on his belly in the dirt.
I heard the tail end of the laughter and the not-so-sweet-natured ribbing that a few of the seniors were giving Morgan. More than a few of them were laughing and pointing, not to mention being so loud that even the other team was paying attention.
“Stop it now!” Raleigh growled at my team. “You should be ashamed of yourselves. Instead of laughing that he fell out of his chair, you should be helping him up!”
“Not my fault the dumbass didn’t pay attention to what was in front of him,” one of the boys muttered.
I arrived at Morgan’s other side, and together, Raleigh and I both maneuvered Morgan back into his seat.
“You okay, bud?” I asked him while Raleigh wiped his shirt off.
Morgan wasn’t looking at me. He was looking down at his hands.
I could feel him trembling.
He was angry and embarrassed, and it didn’t help that the boys continued to tease him as the rest of the high schoolers in the stands behind him laughed at their antics.
“Stop,” Raleigh ordered harshly. “All of you stop.”
Morgan turned so sharply that he was only on two of the four wheels and started motoring back to the entrance of the field—song forgotten.
“That’s why we’re losing!” I heard a player say from the back. “Ms. Crusie is here. Her and her bad juju, along with Morgan’s bad luck are not doing us any favors.”
It sounded like Camden, but I wasn’t sure without actually turning around and confirming.
Unfortunately, I was too focused on Raleigh’s devastated face to take my eyes away from hers. “Wait for me at the dugout, darlin’?”
Raleigh didn’t hesitate, looking away quickly. I had a feeling she wouldn’t be waiting for me.
The moment she was gone, I caught my sister’s eye in the bleachers and gave her a chin lift and nudged my head in Raleigh’s direction.