The Last Summer. Chan Howell
booths. Wherever he went, he had a bag of orange cones, jump ropes, and other equipment that seemed out of place. The truck he drove looked like a rolling equipment room. Everything was meticulously placed, and everything had a specific location. Preston had an older brother, Ayden, that looked down on us from his lofty title of coolest kid in the middle school. He sat beside his mom, Angie, at our games in misery all summer. Preston’s mom was the outcast of the other moms because she had crossed Missy two years earlier. She was friendly and did not have a mean bone in her body, but she seemed to constantly yell, “Sit down!” to Preston. Angie brought dugout drinks, among other things. Preston chewed a pack of green gum every game and offered us his bright-green gum.
Preston sat with Frankie and Troy to watch his idol, Travis, as he called it, “defend his territory.” Preston turned pale and was inconsolable when Wyatt turned Travis into Ruby. Frankie told Preston, “Maybe Travis will get revenge someday.”
Troy laughed, then said through a mountain of sarcasm, “Someday may never come.”
After the game, Preston approached the giant, then said, “Travis, I think he just got lucky. Next time you’ll strike him out for sure.”
Ruby barked back, “Call me Ruby! Wyatt lives on luck.”
Wyatt force-fed Ruby his own medicine. We all enjoyed the look on Ruby’s face that day, but I knew his embarrassment would not stay for long. Ruby changed that day too. The embarrassment became his fuel, and he became more obnoxious and difficult. Wyatt became even more confident, and his ego began to swell. My sister’s hatred for Ruby intensified, as did his insults. Ruby taunted Whitley even more, and he constantly embellished stories of Whitley’s love for Wyatt. Wyatt became her ally, and he always confronted Ruby when he taunted her. Ruby and Wyatt despised each other, and their relationship would stay fractured for a long time.
Longest Day of the Year
Wyatt and the Castaways were the tournament long shot. They entered the play-in game with confidence. Wyatt believed if they could win the play-in game, the Castaways had a shot at upsetting Drake and me in the second round. I reluctantly went to his game with Duckworth and Drake. I wanted to be home studying for the upcoming seventh-grade math placement exam, but my parents forced me out of my room. They gave me the choice of going to Whitley’s soccer game or tagging along with Duckworth.
Wyatt homered in the first inning to give his team a 1–0 lead but the lead would not last long. The Castaways were the worst team for many reasons, but lack of pitching was their doom. Wyatt was helpless behind home plate. Most games, a carousel of base runners crossed home plate, laughing like five-year-olds in front of him. Wyatt was tortured by the image of everyone joyfully blowing his team of misfits out each game. Tonight’s playoff would be different, as Curt Christie and the rest of the Hornets gave the Castaways a glimmer of hope.
The Hornets led by two runs in the bottom of the first inning. Curt was not cocky, but he fancied himself the hero, and his stories were usually slightly embellished. If he had climbed a mountain, he would have told you he conquered Mt. Everest. Curt Christie played center field and was a left-handed pitcher. He was an average pitcher, but a great fielder and hitter. He always touted how little he struck out. He would usually say he was the last player in the league each year to strike out, which might or might not have been true. He was also a showman, and his best skill was bowing.
Curt was coached by his stepdad, David Luck. David was Mr. Mom all the way down to the minivan. He even had a sign that said “Mom’s Taxi,” but he crossed out mom and replaced it with dad. Kaye Luck had been a single teen mom when David changed her life. His morning cup of coffee was his persistent disguise to see what he called the most resilient person he ever met. She went from high-school-dropout waitress to stay-at-home mom. She played the stay-at-home part at all times. She rarely left the house. I think she was catching up on rest from when she was trying to raise two small children when she was a teenager. She was a beautiful woman, but she had premature wrinkles.
David sold insurance and was an expert at shaking hands. He always called us cool dudes long after we thought it was cool. His minivan and Curt’s team’s jersey had his logo, “Be Sure, Insure.” He was the only adult that I saw wear a tie when not going to church. We all believed Curt was the rich kid. Curt never acted wealthy, but his sister Kaylee did. Kaylee was sixteen months older than her brother. She was an obnoxious brat. Kaylee acted like she was always owed something. She rarely attended our games, and no one missed her.
Curt and David had a bond. They constantly talked WWF wrestling. They loved the drama, and Curt always flexed like Brutus the Beefcake after great plays and pointed at his stepdad. Curt and David looked nothing alike, and when Curt called David Dad, strangers always did a double take. David was chubby with red hair and a bright-red mustache. Curt looked like he lived at the beach with his tanned brown skin. They might have looked different, but the two said the same things and even had the same mannerisms.
Everyone loved Curt and David. David coached Curt’s team the last few years despite never having played any sports. David would get coaching advice from Jack Winslow and Duckworth. He was learning the game at a slower pace than we did in T-ball. Curt followed in his stepdad’s footsteps and played the team’s organizer. He always made sure we chewed the same colored gum.
Wyatt knew tonight’s game was his best chance at letting the Castaways feel the euphoria of a win. Mitch had his best game, and the Castaways kept in close. Curt did not want to lose to the worst team in the league. The Hornets wisely walked Wyatt his second at bat. He stole second, then third, and he scored on a slow ground ball to first to tie the game at 4. The score was 6–5 in the sixth inning, and the Castaways had a chance of winning a game. Wyatt was due to bat second. Duckworth said, “Only a fool would pitch to him.” He was right. Wyatt slung his bat to the dugout fence and the umpire warned him, and Wyatt waved his hand back at the large man, dismissing any warning. Disgust of walks and losses had taken its toll on Wyatt. He was set to erupt at any moment.
Wyatt stole second on the first pitch. Mitch bounced out to second, and Wyatt advanced to third with two outs. Curt Christie struggled to throw strikes, and Wyatt’s lead increased with every pitch. Curt walked the next batter. David Luck called time and had a mound visit with the entire infield. Wyatt began to clap at Curt, hoping to distract him. Smelly Kelly called time and again warned Wyatt. Curt looked in, hoping to get one more out when he threw the ball to third for a rare pickoff attempt. Wyatt sprinted home, and white chalk dust filled the air. The throw home was accurate, and Wyatt tried to dodge the tag as he slid headfirst to the back of home plate. The fifth-grade catcher lunged to tag Wyatt as he was nearly airborne, trying to evade the tag. Smelly Kelly emphatically called Wyatt out. Wyatt stomped on home plate, then shouted, “Safe,” at Smelly Kelly. Wyatt was adamant he was not tagged, but Smelly Kelly said, “He got you on the foot.” I knew Wyatt would not go quietly, and he continued to have words with Smelly Kelly for the last time of the summer. The game was over.
Smelly Kelly shouted, “Someone get this lunatic off my field!”
I looked for Wyatt’s uncle Jacob to put an end to the dramatic scene, but he had already started for his car. Jacob had Wyatt’s fire and hatred for losing, but Jacob knew when it is over, it is over. I asked Duckworth, “Do something.”
Duckworth stood up and told me and Drake, “Stay put.” He walked onto the field and told Smelly Kelly, “Just leave. I’ll handle it from here.” Duckworth came to Wyatt’s rescue again.
Smelly Kelly wagged his finger in Wyatt’s face and said, “You have a lot to learn.”
Wyatt replied, “I learned not to be a pathetic, smelly umpire.”
Duckworth shouted, “Wyatt, let it go!”
Wyatt said, “Duckworth, you just dodged a bullet. I could taste my revenge.” Wyatt obnoxiously licked his lips. He and Duckworth both laughed.
The following night, Drake and I played the Hornets. The winner would face Ogre in the semifinals. Drake hit a home run in the first inning, and we never looked back. We cruised to an easy victory. We won by the mercy rule in the fourth inning. Our showdown with Ogre and RJ was set.
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