sometimes they say shit behind his back.”
We watched as Bryce swung the bat and hit a high pop-up to third for an out.
“Well, yeah. But not gay stuff. That was this huge topic at dinner one night last year. Could you make fun of someone who is gay for something other than being gay? We decided that yes, yes, you could.”
I laughed. “You’re kidding, right?”
“Sadly I’m not,” Ben said as Zack got a hit to center field. “But the upshot is, no one rides Toby about the gay thing, so that’s good.”
“That is good,” I said. But I was thinking, Wouldn’t it be nice if we lived in a world where no one thought being gay was even something to ride someone about?
“And Toby lucked out. The head of student life got this idea that perhaps an openly gay kid should have his own dorm room, a single. So he got one.”
“Ah. Why he’s not roommates with Albie now makes sense,” I said. “Well, all’s well that ends well.”
“Ben, you’re on double deck,” Steve yelled.
Ben stood and grabbed a bat. I stood too, and walked with him.
“Yeah. Of course, there’s plenty of other stuff about Toby. I mean, he’s not the most sensible person of all time,” Ben said.
I was going to let it go, but I decided if open conversation was the thing at Natick, why not go for it? “Isn’t that homophobic? Like a gay stereotype? Like all gays are flighty?”
“No, it’s a fact. It has nothing to do with him being gay.”
“Okay, it just sounded like it could be homophobic, like the one gay kid is not very sensible,” I said, crossing my arms.
“One guy in the on-deck circle, Colorado,” Steve yelled. “C’mon!”
I moved back but not before Ben leaned in toward me. “Last year, the fire alarm went off in the middle of the night. It was January and freezing out, and everyone bundled up and went outside while they checked things out. And out comes Toby in a pair of shorts and a T-shirt, with an honest-to-God bow and arrow. Everyone’s staring at him, and he’s saying: ‘There are probably wolves out here. I’m not going outside in the pitch black without some sort of protection.’ The idiot nearly got frostbite, and Mr. Donnelly had to break the drill and go in and get him pants and a jacket.”
I tried to think of some comeback. I had nothing. Ben saw it and smiled this great, goofy smile, with his two uneven front teeth sticking out just slightly under his top lip.
“Okay. Not so sensible,” I said, allowing myself to smile back.
I grounded out in the fifth inning, and then, in the seventh, I came up with us leading by one run with two runners on base. My heart was pounding in my ears, and as I approached the plate, I kept saying to myself, Don’t screw up. Don’t screw up.
“Let’s see it, kid,” Steve yelled, and I could hear the team clapping for me.
I took a deep breath, stepped into the batter’s box, and raised the bat.
The first pitch was perfect, right over the plate, and I concentrated as hard as I could to swing level so it wouldn’t be a high pop-up like the last one. The contact felt good, clean, sweet, and the ball jumped off my bat in a way it hadn’t before. I swung all the way through and then started running as the ball screamed past the pitcher’s glove.
It went into center field, hitting the grass just in front of the outfielder, who dove for it. He scooped it up on a short hop and threw as hard as he could to home plate. The throw was too late, though; I was on first, Ben was on third, and Standish was across home plate, giving us a 9–7 lead.
I could feel the applause in my bones, my joints, this reverberation of sound and celebration. I smiled as wide as I could remember smiling. Steve yelled, “Outstanding, Colorado. Outstanding.”
When our half of the inning was over, I sat on the bench, watching the final at bat by the senior team. They got a runner to first, then someone grounded out and the next guy popped out, and suddenly we were one out away
We watched as Bryce swung the bat and hit a high pop-up to third for an out.
“Well, yeah. But not gay stuff. That was this huge topic at dinner one night last year. Could you make fun of someone who is gay for something other than being gay? We decided that yes, yes, you could.”
I laughed. “You’re kidding, right?”
“Sadly I’m not,” Ben said as Zack got a hit to center field. “But the upshot is, no one rides Toby about the gay thing, so that’s good.”
“That is good,” I said. But I was thinking, Wouldn’t it be nice if we lived in a world where no one thought being gay was even something to ride someone about?
“And Toby lucked out. The head of student life got this idea that perhaps an openly gay kid should have his own dorm room, a single. So he got one.”
“Ah. Why he’s not roommates with Albie now makes sense,” I said. “Well, all’s well that ends well.”
“Ben, you’re on double deck,” Steve yelled.
Ben stood and grabbed a bat. I stood too, and walked with him.
“Yeah. Of course, there’s plenty of other stuff about Toby. I mean, he’s not the most sensible person of all time,” Ben said.
I was going to let it go, but I decided if open conversation was the thing at Natick, why not go for it? “Isn’t that homophobic? Like a gay stereotype? Like all gays are flighty?”
“No, it’s a fact. It has nothing to do with him being gay.”
“Okay, it just sounded like it could be homophobic, like the one gay kid is not very sensible,” I said, crossing my arms.
“One guy in the on-deck circle, Colorado,” Steve yelled. “C’mon!”
I moved back but not before Ben leaned in toward me. “Last year, the fire alarm went off in the middle of the night. It was January and freezing out, and everyone bundled up and went outside while they checked things out. And out comes Toby in a pair of shorts and a T-shirt, with an honest-to-God bow and arrow. Everyone’s staring at him, and he’s saying: ‘There are probably wolves out here. I’m not going outside in the pitch black without some sort of protection.’ The idiot nearly got frostbite, and Mr. Donnelly had to break the drill and go in and get him pants and a jacket.”
I tried to think of some comeback. I had nothing. Ben saw it and smiled this great, goofy smile, with his two uneven front teeth sticking out just slightly under his top lip.
“Okay. Not so sensible,” I said, allowing myself to smile back.
I grounded out in the fifth inning, and then, in the seventh, I came up with us leading by one run with two runners on base. My heart was pounding in my ears, and as I approached the plate, I kept saying to myself, Don’t screw up. Don’t screw up.
“Let’s see it, kid,” Steve yelled, and I could hear the team clapping for me.
I took a deep breath, stepped into the batter’s box, and raised the bat.
The first pitch was perfect, right over the plate, and I concentrated as hard as I could to swing level so it wouldn’t be a high pop-up like the last one. The contact felt good, clean, sweet, and the ball jumped off my bat in a way it hadn’t before. I swung all the way through and then started running as the ball screamed past the pitcher’s glove.
It went into center field, hitting the grass just in front of the outfielder, who dove for it. He scooped it up on a short hop and threw as hard as he could to home plate. The throw was too late, though; I was on first, Ben was on third, and Standish was across home plate, giving us a 9–7 lead.
I could feel the applause in my bones, my joints, this reverberation of sound and celebration. I smiled as wide as I could remember smiling. Steve yelled, “Outstanding, Colorado. Outstanding.”
When our half of the inning was over, I sat on the bench, watching the final at bat by the senior team. They got a runner to first, then someone grounded out and the next guy popped out, and suddenly we were one out away
Similar Books
