I grabbed my glove and jogged out into the field, feeling the rush of cool air blow over me once out of the dugout. It smelled like rain, and the dark clouds gathering overhead seemed to agree with my proposition. I planted my cleats into the dirt of the infield, punching my glove a few times with my cut up knuckles.

"This is what we're gonna do," My coach started talking, gaining the attention of every single one of us. Pablo stood next to me and fidgeted with his glove while coach Samuel started to ramble on about practice. "Coach Jimmy is going to hit balls that I pitch, and you're going to field them," Coach Samuel continued talking and Pablo rolled his eyes. He lifted his glove up to cover his lips, whispering to me in what sounded like radio fuzz, "I hate doing this."

Once the coach was done talking, Pablo jogged out to left field. I stayed at my position, shortstop, squatting with my glove down near the dirt. I kept a close eye on the coaches who were pitching and batting for us. The first ball pitched by Samuel dribbled out to me, of course, and I had no problem getting it to first base.

After a while, we rotated into positions we didn't normally play, which meant Pablo and I switched. In the outfield, not much usually happens. I spent the first five minutes out there kicking grass with my cleats, daydreaming about french fries and chicken nuggets while my stomach made deathly, desperate noises.

I heard the bat crack, the familiar sound raising my eyes to the sky as a ball started plummeting towards me, a little bit behind me in fact. I tried to trail backwards to line my glove up with the ball, but I tripped over my own feet, slipping onto the ground which was still moist from the rain yesterday. The ball landed behind me with a loud thud, and I reached around to grab it.

Still sitting in the grass, I threw the ball to Pablo. My teammates were staring at me like I just dropped a baby. I guess, in a sense, I did.

"Watch it out there, Greer!" Coach Samuel shouted to me from the pitcher's mound, tossing the ball in his glove once Pablo threw it back to him. I nodded and didn't even bother opening my mouth, wiping my forehead with the back of my glove. My ass was wet now from falling in the damp grass.

The next few balls were hit infield, and I just couldn't get myself to focus on baseball. I kept thinking about the boy with the cut lip. What the fuck was his name? Why didn't anyone know his name? My stomach was growling again. Why did he have the perfect facial features of anyone I have ever met? Why does he want to help me study? Do I even still have that piece of pa-

"What the hell Greer!"
Coach Samuel and Jimmy both yelled in unison, calling the team in for a huddle at the pitchers mound. I noticed the baseball which landed a few feet next to me as I started jogging in towards the mound. I tried to shake my hunger away as I jogged towards my team.

"Greer, you're our best player, what is going on?" Jimmy asked, causing the whole team to look at me. I scratched the back of my neck with my free left hand, staring back at Jimmy, his eyes darting into mine like piercing daggers.

"Just a lot on my mind," I responded as my stomach kept growling, louder and longer each time.

"Get your head in the game, boy. Go home today, go home now, you look half dead. Shake today off," Samuel added as he emerged forward into the center of the huddle, grabbing my arm as he guided me to the dugout with a strong grip.

I swallowed harshly a few times, realizing what just happened as the coach almost dragged me through the muddy grass. I grabbed my sports bag and bat on the dugout bench, huskily sighing from the back of my throat which was dry since I didn't have any water.

"Rest up," Coach said as he started jogging back out to the pitcher's mound, the team already dispersed on the field as I began to trudge home. I adjusted my sports bag on my shoulder while I walked. My cleats snapped against the cement sidewalk with each defeated step I took, annoying me so much I started walking in the strip of grass next to the sidewalk.

"Not going to practice today, huh?" I heard someone say, causing me to stop in my tracks. "Who said that? What?" I started looking around at the houses lining the street and sidewalk, relieved to find the boy with the cut lip sitting on his porch steps, smoking a cigarette.

"I said that," he said smoothly as the cigarette burned between his fingers. I didn't step closer to his porch, instead I stood still and tilted my head to the side before talking to him. "I know it seems like I don't do anything, but I promise you I am not some sort of slum that will sell drugs to your family," I rethought that statement real quick, clearing my throat before adding quietly under my breath, "That's my brother."

The boy with the cut lip positioned the cigarette at his lips, sucking in from his cheeks as they formed hollow dimples. He nodded his head and let the smoke out from his nose, the rest escaping from his lips as he began to speak, "Still have my paper?"

I nodded and pointed to my sports bag, which contained all my clothes before changing into my uniform for practice. "It's in here."

The boy nodded again and drew his lips into a half curve, the light freckles on his face moving with his skin as he smiled, "Good. I'm getting some things together for when we study. How do you feel about Newton?" The boy neatly mashed his cigarette into the steps of his porch, folding his hands together as his elbows rested on his thighs, letting his intertwined fingers hang loose between his legs.

I was taken back by his question, my brain scrambling to find Newton. Isaac? I shifted my weight to my right foot as I let words out of my mouth, "Yeah, I'm good with that... stuff."

I guess he could tell I was uncomfortable by the way I shifted my weight, stuttering slightly with my words. He started laughing and regained his composure quickly, "You seemed so tough when I met you, what happened? I'm intrigued now, see you Saturday at the library." The boy started to stand up, his jeans forming wrinkles at the knees.

"And you seemed so shy when I first met you," I added to his previous comment, smirking at the way he tried to act tough. "What's your name?" I asked quickly, staring up at his perfect features which looked brighter against the gray clouds.

"Axel, Axel Fredricks," he said with his head turned over his shoulder just enough for his voice to project towards me.

I watched him enter the house, my teeth naturally chewing at my bottom lip.
I could feel my heart fluttering like a caged bird trying to fly.

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HE HAS A NAME!! Thanks for reading this chapter, and thank you to everyone who has been reading, voting, commenting, whatever! I appreciate it all.