28. taunt

TWENTY EIGHT

taunt

Thursday, April 17th

Isaiah felt as if there were dozens of invisible bugs crawling across his skin. The game was going to start in the next ten minutes, and while he waited for Steve to get his things ready, Isaiah was staring at the other team. Lakewood: the cause of the antsy feeling he was getting.

He recognized a few of the last names. August had mentioned them the other day, and now Isaiah was seeking them out. He spotted the Jackson guy—from all the equipment he was pulling on, he appeared to be a catcher. Kai, who August had claimed was a decent guy, but Isaiah begged to differ. He hadn't help August when he needed it most, so the kid was on his fuck you list. The whole team was, really.

The main person he was trying to find was Jay. August said he'd been kicked off the team, but he didn't know why, only that it was apparently his fault. Sarcasm laced his words like poison. Isaiah wanted to see this guy—wanted to see who'd started everything. And who'd ended it.

"You look like an angry dog," Steve commented once he'd caught up to him. He smacked him on the back, a friendly gesture, but Isaiah could sense the underlying message. Get your shit together, loser.

Isaiah shrugged his hand off. "Thanks."

Steve raised an eyebrow, trying to see exactly who Isaiah was looking at. "I don't know what happened," he said, shaking his head, "but you can't worry about that right now. Wait until after the game."

"Are you encouraging me to fight one of them?"

"Isaiah, what the fuck? No."

"I think you are."

"Oh my God," Steve muttered, adjusting the baseball cap on his head. "August is rubbing off on you, and it's a curse."

Isaiah chuckled at Steve's response and forced himself to ignore the other team. He focused on warming up with his own teammates, and soon enough, all that was on his mind was winning the game. He didn't care if they lost the ones after—this one was the one that mattered the most to him.

Isaiah's team was batting first. Alex was up to bat, warming up his arms and his swings nearby. And when he got to the plate, Lakewood was beyond annoying. They hollered and shouted random things to try and distract Alex, and Isaiah found himself glaring at the dugout across the field. Those were the worst kind of players, in his opinion. Loud, immature, and irritating.

"Fuck," Marcus grumbled from behind. "They're one of those teams." Isaiah turned to see him shaking his head in disbelief, a frown playing at his lips. "I hate them already."

Ashton whistled lowly. "Hate's a strong word, buddy," he said, clicking his tongue in faux disappointment.

"Hey, Ash," Steve stated, causing the messy haired boy to look up at him curiously. He was smiling, but then it dropped when Steve continued with, "I hate you."

Ashton slumped, crossed his arms against his chest, looking upset. "Steve, you're so mean to me," he complained, scuffing the soles of his cleats against the ground. "All I do is love you, and this is the treatment you give me. Isaiah, Marcus, do y'all love me?"

"Sure," Marcus replied, reaching out to push down the front of Ashton's hat. "You're like my annoying little brother."

"I'm older than you."

"By three months, shorty."

"I'm five nine!" Ashton exclaimed defensively. "I'm tall!"

"And I'm six feet," Marcus replied. "So you're short."

Isaiah zoned out their bickering after a few moments, his mind focused on the moves of the pitcher. He tended to throw toward the basemen more than the batter to try and get the other team's players out. It was either because he had a strong arm, or because he wasn't the best at controlling where he wanted the ball to go. Or maybe he was just trying to be annoying and tire out the guys on base.

Either way it was a pain.

Soon enough it was Isaiah's turn to bat, and once he'd gotten situated, the yelling started. Ridiculous shit — far more annoying than before. When they switched from noises to words, Isaiah felt adrenaline surge inside his veins due to the anger he was feeling in that very moment.

So when the ball came soaring toward him, Isaiah hit it with everything he had in him, and the loud pop that resonated in his ears was enough to send adrenaline pumping through his veins. He hardly registered the cheering from his side of the stands, but he knew what happened when his teammates gathered outside the dugout to congratulate him on the hit.

He'd gotten a homerun. With two other teammates on bases, he'd earned their team three points right off the bat. The drumming of his heartbeat flooded his ears and drowned out the yelling and cheering that came from the bleachers. He felt hands pound at his shoulders and his back, arms slung around his neck, a fist rubbing against the top of his head. He only came back to reality when he sat down on the bench, the roaring in his ears dying down as he leaned back.

"What assholes, though," Marcus ranted, leaning against the fence, eyes trained on the other team.

Isaiah let out a weak laugh. "Yeah," he breathed. "But they got me heated enough to do that."

Marcus pushed off the fence, the metal rattling from the force. He plopped down beside Isaiah and hooked an arm around his shoulders, shaking him lightly. "That was fucking incredible," he admitted. "Speedracer doesn't just apply in running, huh?"

Isaiah blinked in surprise and looked up at the other boy. "That's the first I've heard you call me that in a while."

Marcus' arm slowly slid from its position around Isaiah's shoulders, and he leaned back against the brick wall. "True," he confessed. "My bad, Speedracer. I'll make sure to use that more often."

"Hey, I never said I wanted you to call me that."

"Too bad," Marcus said with a grin. "It's staying."

It was in the fourth inning that Isaiah got to talk to one of the players from the opposite team. Lakewood was on the field, Isaiah's team was at bat. He was between second and third, hands on his knees, eyes drifting over to number nineteen on second. He recognized the guy as Jackson, and being this close to him had his blood boiling.

He'd switched out with another catcher and was now at second base, and Isaiah was sure he could feel his gaze on him. Jackson kept glancing over, brows furrowing at the intense glare being settled on the side of his face.

"Fuck are you looking at?" Jackson finally snapped, a nasty scowl on his mouth. "Fucking creep."

"Oh, nothing. You just remind me of someone," Isaiah said, making sure to keep his eyes on the pitcher and everything else going on around him. He didn't want to get out just because of some neanderthal.

Jackson snorted. "Freak. Who?"

"A guy who attempted murder."

Jackson froze, and he turned his head to look at Isaiah, eyes growing wide. His arms seemed to fall from their ready position, and Isaiah felt a smug feeling crawl up his spine. A familiar pop of a ball against a bat was heard, and Isaiah looked up to see the ball coming in Jackson's range, the perfect catch for the final out. But he was lost in the panic and shock delivered by Isaiah's words, and that simple miss let Isaiah score another point.

Isaiah jogged into the dugout and was met with a baffled Steve, along with Marcus and Ashton who looked just as confused. "The hell did you say to that guy?" Ashton blurted in a harsh whisper, eyebrows raised in curiosity.

"Do you know him?" Steve asked, brows sewn together, perplexed.

"Just something. And yeah, kind of," Isaiah responded, sitting down and taking a gulp of water. The coolness felt like heaven in his throat.

The three didn't push the subject, but looked like they wanted to. The game ended an hour and a half later, with their team winning 12-3. They did the obligatory walk across the field, muttered "good game" to every player, and when Isaiah passed Jackson, he gripped his hand harder than he should've. Isaiah simply sent him a dismissive look and moved on, joining his teammates in front of Coach, who was talking about their performance.

When Isaiah left the dugout, he found his parents and siblings quickly, all four looking like they were about to burst with excitement and pride. Feet away was August and Morgan, and the fact that his family and his boyfriend were so close was a shock to his heart.

He went to his family first. His father tugged him into a strong, suffocating hug, not at all caring about the sweat that was all over him. "That's my boy," Dad boomed, beaming at his son. "You killed it out there!"

Isaiah grinned broadly, hugging his mother next, who he rocked back and forth happily. Dylan refused to hug him and simply gave him a fist bump and a quiet "good job," but it was enough. Jordan practically tackled him, jumped on his back and hugged him tightly around the neck.

"Ugh, you stink," she groaned, and Isaiah rolled his eyes.

"Then get off me, weirdo," he retorted, and she mocked him in a high-pitched voice before sliding off his back anyway. She pulled him into a less suffocating hug and then backed up, gripping his shoulders and shaking him.

"That was so cool!" she cried. "I had no idea what the hell was going on, but it was awesome!"

Isaiah laughed loudly and talked with his family for a little while longer before he ended up saying goodbye. "I think we're going out to eat now," he told them. "Because of the win. I'll be home around ten?"

"Yes, of course," Mom said, nodding. "Drive safe, okay? No drinking."

Isaiah cracked a fond smile. "Wasn't planning on it."

"The driving safe part or the drinking part?" Dad asked, looking genuinely concerned.

"Both."

"Isaiah!" his dad shouted, and Isaiah made a heart with his hands as he walked backwards away from them.

"I was just kidding! Bye, love you," he exclaimed, sending them a wave before he turned around and jogged over to where his group of friends were standing. August was leaning back against the wall, and perked up when he saw Isaiah making his way over. He went to say something, but was cut off by Isaiah barreling into him, hugging him as tightly as possible. He was too happy to care who saw.

August was surprised, but didn't hesitate to hug him back. Isaiah rested his cheek atop his head, closing his eyes, fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt. He inhaled deeply, taking in the scent of August's fruit-scented shampoo, and God, he could've stayed like that forever.

But August didn't think the same, because all he managed to say was, "You smell like sweaty balls."

Isaiah jerked back in surprise, holding August at arm's length. "Ouch," he muttered, frowning. "Let me be happy and hug you."

August snorted. "Maybe when you don't smell so bad," he teased.

"Hey," Morgan piped up, and Isaiah looked over to see her holding out her arms. "Where's my hug?"

Isaiah laughed and hugged her as well, rocking her back and forth in place. "Morgan doesn't care about the sweat," he joked, glancing over at August. "She's my new best friend."

"What am I?" Ashton complained. "Chopped liver? I wanna hug Isaiah, too."

Before he could even register it, all five of his friends crowded in on him and dragged him into a group hug. Isaiah felt like he was on top of the world.

___

Isaiah's mood plummeted at the diner. It was fine at first, when all of his teammates split up between the tables and joked around. But then another team walked in, the same one they had just played.

Isaiah grabbed August's hand under the table, his gaze latched onto Jackson and a tall, East Asian boy by his side. But he wasn't wearing a uniform like the rest of them, and Isaiah had a feeling he knew exactly who that was.

He must've been staring too long, because Jackson caught his eye. His face hardened, and then it drifted over to the blond at his side, and a spark of recognition flashed in his eyes. He nudged the East Asian boy and someone else behind him, whispering something while never taking his eyes off Isaiah.

Then they were walking over.

The commotion at the surrounding tables seemed to quiet when they noticed their rival team heading over. Isaiah felt his body tense when Jackson stopped in front of their table, hand playing with the knob at the top of the napkin dispenser. "Didn't know this was where you escaped to," Jackson said, eyes sliding from the table to August, who looked scarily calm. But the way he clutched Isaiah's hand like it was his lifeline told a different story.

August didn't say anything. Jackson snorted, looked at August like he was nothing but gum on the bottom of his shoe. "You know, it's your fault that—"

"You grew out your hair," said Jay. He reached out and touched the end of a blond strand, and Isaiah went to go reach out and grip the guy's wrist, but August stopped him with a squeeze to his hand.

Jackson curled his lip in disgust. "Makes you look like even more of a queer than you did before." His voice was loud as he said it, and the room seemed to become even quieter. Isaiah glanced down at August, trying to search for any sign of panic on his face, but he revealed nothing.

"Thanks, I guess," muttered August. Jackson looked momentarily surprised before he recovered, crossing his arms against his chest.

A boy cleared his throat, and tapped Jackson on the shoulder. Kai. "Hey, Jack, we should go sit down. We're all hungry, and so are they, so let's just—"

"Fuck off, Kai."

Kai faltered, and he sent everyone else an apologetic look before slinking back to where he'd been before. Jackson was staring August down, until he noticed the hand that was clutching Isaiah's. He scoffed.

"So turning guys gay is your thing," Jackson drawled, holding his chin high, as if he was all mighty and royal. "Disgusting."

Isaiah felt like he was on the verge of exploding. But the warmth of August's hand was the only thing keeping him grounded. He wanted to do something, say something, but he didn't know if August wanted that or not. Was he trying to be mature, or was he just scared?

August inhaled shakily, dug his nails into Isaiah's palm, sweat beading across the back of his neck. Scared, Isaiah thought.

The answer is scared.

___

Q: what do you think will happen next?