Dare You To

UNLACING MY CLEATS, I STARE at the bleachers.

Mark is here and he’s talking to Beth. Actually, he’s laughing with Beth. Jealousy lurches inside me and I’m pissed at both of them. I’ve texted and called Mark for months and I got shit. Beth smiles once and he’s rattling like he’s on a talk show. And to top it all off, Mark’s talked to her for a whole twenty minutes and Beth’s already laughing. It took me weeks to get her to laugh with me.

I slam my cleat against the bench to knock the dirt off. Mark is my brother, therefore he wouldn’t steal my girl. Not to mention that he likes men. Several of the guys glance at me when I hammer my cleat against the bench again. Logan raises a brow. I shake my head to stop him from speaking to me.

Resting my arms on my knees, I try to suck HC TITLE-AUTHOR

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it up. Beth’s not really my girl. We’re just friends who date because I screwed everything up with her from the beginning.

“Ryan?” Coach waves me over to him. I

shove my feet into my Nikes and toss my bag over my shoulder. He probably has plenty to say to me. I pulled the game out, but I cost us two runs in the last inning. Mark and Beth’s friendly interaction distracted me.

“Yes, sir.”

Coach nods to a man in his thirties and a woman standing next to him. They’re dressed in Sunday casual—jeans and nice shirts. “I’d like you to meet Pete Carson and his wife, Vickie.”

I shake the extended hands—Mr. Carson

first, then his wife. “Nice to meet you.”

“Pete is a scout with the University of

Louisville.”

I glance at Coach and try to keep the

surprise off my face. He knows how Dad and I feel about playing pro ball after I graduate. Mr.

Carson clears his throat. “Ryan, I’ve been scouting for the early draft and your name is the one on everyone’s lips. I was wondering if you’ve given any thought to our school.”

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“No, sir. I plan on joining the pro draft after graduation.”

“That would be a waste.” The words rush

out of his wife’s mouth. The three of us look at her and she laughs nervously. “Sorry, but it’s the truth. I should introduce myself appropriately—I’m Dr. Carson, dean of the English Department at Spalding University.”

“Uh-huh.” A very un-grammatically-correct response. Why do I feel cornered?

“Mrs. Rowe, your English teacher, is a good friend of mine. She’s shown me some of your writing. You’re very talented. Both on the field and off. Spalding University offers a wonderful course study in Creative Writing and many of our students go on to pursue their master’s in Fine Arts.…”

Mr. Carson puts his hand on his wife’s arm.

“You’re recruiting him. I thought I won the coin toss.”

“You weren’t talking fast enough.” She pats the hand he just placed on her. “Spalding has a baseball team too.”

I fake laugh because everyone else does, but my uneasiness builds. Standing here listening to them makes me feel like I’m betraying my HC TITLE-AUTHOR

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father.

Mr. Carson lets go of his wife. “Spalding is a Division Three school. The University of Louisville is Division One. Several of our players went on to be drafted into the pros. You have talent that can’t be taught, but you’ve got some tells on your pitches and some issues with your placement. My coaches can work with you and take your pitches to another level.

We’ll prepare you for the pros plus you’ll be walking away with a degree.”

“Are you offering me a scholarship?”

“Spalding will,” says Mrs. Carson. She

smiles unrepentantly when her husband

grimaces.

Mr. Carson exchanges a wary look with

Coach. “I need to know if you’re interested. I have room for a pitcher on my team and I’m looking to offer a scholarship to someone during the early signing period in November.”

November, which means if I want to go to

college, I have a little more than a month to decide. No pressure. Mr. and Mrs. Carson describe college life while I pretend to listen.

What will Dad say if he finds out? They both hand me cards, to Mr. Carson’s dismay, and HC TITLE-AUTHOR

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say their goodbyes, leaving me and Coach

alone.

I wait for the Carsons to be out of earshot before I ask the question bugging me. “Have you been talking to Mrs. Rowe?”

“We talked last month. I think it’s in your best interests to explore all of your options.”

“You don’t think I can make pros?” This is the man who has encouraged me almost as much as my dad.

“No,” he says slowly. “I believe you can, but I also know that your father isn’t presenting you with everything on the table. Your father’s a good man, but I consider you one of my own sons and I wouldn’t be helping you if I didn’t make that introduction.”

My world tips. Coach and Dad have always

seen eye-to-eye. Why the change? “I’m not doing the writing competition.”

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