5. strike one

FIVE

strike one

Monday, February 22nd

Isaiah couldn't tell if August was teasing him or genuinely repulsed by the way he was practicing. He'd comment on everything, but when Isaiah looked over, he was either smiling or not even glancing his way.

It was when Isaiah didn't even try that hard that August praised him. "Nice swing," is what he'd stated. Isaiah was beyond confused. Was he doing this on purpose?

Isaiah sighed, relaxing his arms and pushing his bat into the fake grass. "I didn't even try that time," he muttered.

"Exactly," August commented, fingers curling around the holes in the fence. "Stop thinking so hard about it. What? Are you trying to impress me or something?"

I think so. "No."

August smirked, and Isaiah felt his heart squeeze. "If you say so," he replied. He pulled out his phone again and started typing, causing Isaiah to wonder who he was talking to. Or if he'd just stumbled across a funny tweet. Maybe he'd found a cute puppy on Instagram. Isaiah just wanted to know, but he didn't understand why. It wasn't any of his business, but he wanted it to be. I want to be his friend.

Isaiah cleared his throat and stepped out of the cages, dragging his bag behind him. "I think I'm done," he said, and faltered when he glanced over at August just in time to see him frown. He wanted an excuse to talk to him more, however, being around him made Isaiah feel weird. Like he was trying so hard to make August like him that he was becoming exhausted. Why did he care so much about his opinion? Was it seriously because he wanted to be friends with him?

"So soon?" August inquired, pushing off the fence and walking over. "It's barely been an hour."

Isaiah shrugged and didn't look August in the eye, because if he did, he knew he'd never want to leave. And that rubbed him the wrong way. "I'm off today. I don't like feeling off."

"And?" August pushed. "What, you gonna let a bad day stop you?"

Isaiah scowled, finally deciding to look at him. "What? No."

August stepped closer, and Isaiah instinctively took a step back. "You didn't seem off during practice," he pointed out. As if he knew something Isaiah didn't. Which he probably did. August seemed like he knew everything. And Isaiah didn't know if it was a good thing, or a bad thing.

"I'm tired," Isaiah defended. August raised an eyebrow, not convinced in the slightest.

"What do you want me to say?" Isaiah grumbled, kicking at the gravel with his cleats. The rough sound was like music to his ears. "That I'm distracted by you?"

August snorted. "That's the first thing that came to mind?"

"I am not distracted by you."

"Never said you were."

"But you think I am."

"Do I?" August questioned, tilting his head to the side with a teasing grin. His hair fell into his eyes, his green irises seeming brighter when faced with the sun. But the sun had no chance against August; his name suited him well. A summer boy.

Isaiah didn't want to admit that it was, in fact, August keeping him from playing like he had during practice. Now, knowing he watched him, Isaiah didn't want August around. Not if he was going to affect him like this. Baseball was everything to him. He didn't need some strange boy with one leg keeping him from it. He needed a scholarship.

Clenching his fist around his bat, Isaiah said, "I don't care about the opinion of a guy who can't even play."

He regretted it instantly.

August's smile faded into a thin line. His eyes seemed to darken, no longer the calming seafoam, but the color of the forest at midnight. He scoffed and shook his head, tilting it back to stare up at the sun, as if hoping it would strike down on Isaiah and set him on fire. He wouldn't be surprised if it did.

"Right," August said. "Should've known you were an ignorant asshole. Morgan told me to be nice to you. To befriend you, and I tried. Fuck you."

Isaiah searched for words to say, but nothing came out. August watched him, waiting for him to say something, but when he just shut his mouth, he walked away. Isaiah didn't bother trying to grab his attention. He'd fucked up, badly, and that was what he got for it. But maybe it was better if August hated him. At least then he wouldn't be a distraction.

___

Tuesday, February 23rd

Isaiah lied.

It wasn't for the better. Knowing he'd said something so shitty to someone who didn't deserve it was eating away at him. Guilt engulfed him; he needed to apologize. But August was avoiding him at all costs.

"You look like a kicked puppy," Marcus commented once Isaiah had slumped in his seat. Everyone else at the lunch table glanced over, and Isaiah buried his head in his arms. Marcus awkwardly patted his back in comfort.

Isaiah groaned. "I'm such an asshole."

Ashton gasped dramatically. "Isaiah? Being mean? The world is ending!" Ashton slammed his hands down on the table, garnering glares from neighboring tables. Steve whispered something and got him to sit back down.

Isaiah lifted his head from his arms and frowned. "I said something I didn't mean to this person, and now they're mad, and I don't know what to do. They're avoiding me so I can't apologize."

"Tell one of their friends," Steve suggested, popping a baby carrot into his mouth.

"But they're gonna think I'm not being serious."

"Well," Steve started, "if they actually care enough, they'll talk to you to see if you are."

"Who did you offend anyway?" Ashton asked, brows furrowed in silent question. Marcus hummed his agreement.

Isaiah picked at his sleeves. "Doesn't matter."

"It's pretty boy," Marcus blurted, grinning in triumph. "Isn't it?" At Isaiah's reluctant nod, he continued. "Shit, what did you say? He looks like he'll crush someone if they bump into him. He's so moody in class, bro. Don't die."

"What I said is none of your business," Isaiah grumbled. "And I'm not gonna die. He's not some Ted Bundy dude."

"Who's pretty boy?" Ashton questioned curiously.

"August Knight," Steve replied. When Ashton still looked confused, Steve sighed. "Gunner?"

"Gunner?" Isaiah voiced aloud, looking over at Steve in question.

"A nickname he got from his old school," Steve explained, looking unbothered and bored. "He was captain of the baseball team there. Lakewood High, if I remember correctly. He was all over the newspapers and was a great pitcher. Then he got cut from the team, but no one knows why. Had his leg amputated after some car accident, but I doubt that's the reason he got cut."

"Okay," Isaiah said. "But why Gunner?"

"His pitching speed was fucking wild, bro," Ashton chipped in, eyes wide as saucers. "Shit flew like a bullet."

Isaiah furrowed his brows in confusion and slumped back in his seat. "How does everyone know this but me?"

Marcus snorted. "Probably because you're obsessed with the professional players only," he drawled. "You don't pay attention to other talents."

"Hey, fuck you."

"Nah, I'm good," Marcus joked, letting out a loud laugh at Isaiah's unimpressed look. Isaiah scoffed and turned back to face Steve, then halted when he saw a familiar face walking down the middle of the cafeteria. Morgan.

Isaiah got up quickly. "One second," he told his friends. He made his way over to Morgan, her eyes meeting his once he'd gotten closer. She stopped and shifted from foot to foot, forcing out a polite smile. Her cheeks were rosy.

"August is ignoring me," he blurted out. Morgan nodded slowly. "Um, I really wanted to apologize. I mean, I want to apologize. Not past tense. Because that would mean I don't anymore. But I do—" He sucked in a deep breath and let it out through his nose. He was rambling. "It wasn't my intention to hurt him," Isaiah continued honestly. "I was wondering if you could tell him I'm sorry, or something like that? I said something really shitty, and he didn't deserve that."

Morgan worried at her bottom lip. "I know," she said. "He told me."

"Right," Isaiah breathed. "Right, yeah. Of course he did. You two are friends."

Morgan smiled again, but that time it was genuine. "I'll tell him," she promised. "I'll send him your way, if you'd like."

Isaiah nodded rapidly. "Yeah, that'd be cool."

Giving him a curt nod, Morgan left the cafeteria, and Isaiah was left still feeling like shit. He hoped she'd tell him right away, because he needed August to know he was sorry. Isaiah hated hurting people. Unless he didn't like them. Like Alex.

Isaiah sat back down at the table and sighed loudly. "I did it."

"Nice," the three said in uncomfortable unison. Isaiah gave them all weird looks.

Steve nudged Isaiah under the table. "Tell us how it goes," he said, and Isaiah bobbed his head in reply.

Isaiah didn't know if it would 'go' at all.