4. Chapter 3
Austin - The Past
Hot air builds up in the cab of my truck as I sit facing Clear Creek High School.
“It’s your fault, Dad. I’d be closer than ever to professional baseball.
We could’ve had a normal summer, taken our usual vacation…
But, no. You couldn’t do things like a normal dad,” I mutter under my breath as I gather up the courage to leave my truck and head into school.
I’m so tempted to smash my fist against the steering wheel.
But I need both hands for playing baseball, and this truck is my girl.
I would never hurt her. But is baseball even a possibility now?
How will a scout even find me out here in the boonies?
Sure, we could make it to the state championship, but that doesn’t guarantee that a scout will be out looking for me, and it requires a really good team.
Unless a scout already spotted me in Atlanta and is following my journey. That’s my only hope at this point.
It was Mom and Dad, George and Kimberly, and two kids; me and Izzy—who recently turned ten—against the world. Well, until Dad decided to leave all of us.
I still hate him. I hate what he did to us. He knew baseball was important to me. He’s the one that started my love of baseball. Started me on the path to wanting to go pro. “I’d probably be talking to a scout right now, Dad.”
I poke a finger into the edge of the steering wheel.
Family and stability were important to Mom, but he still had an affair and left.
Mom didn’t want to stay in Atlanta, which I get.
But this isn’t home. Not for me. “Why did we have to move here? Couldn’t we have just moved to a different area in Atlanta?
Why, Mom? Why this cabbage-patch of a town?
” I don’t have the guts to say those things to her, but some days I want to ask her all those questions.
Silently, I slip from my truck. She’s a 1980 Chevrolet K10. “Love you, girl.” I pat the dash. She doesn’t fit in here. She’s classy, and this place… isn’t. The high school screams put me out of my misery.
A giant crack in the sidewalk greets me as I head toward the lopsided steps flanked by rusty railings.
If you get the right angle on the sidewalk crack and the building’s hideous facade, it almost looks like an angry face.
Someone has clearly attempted to clean it up, it’s got new paint on the doors, but it’s so different compared to the recently constructed modern building of my high school in Atlanta.
Dad’s high level job allowed me to attend a private school with an amazing baseball program.
I had baseball all year round, with training, camp, and travel teams. Now, I’ll only have the regular season.
I can’t help but compare myself to the other students who I’ve been watching walk through the doors.
I don’t fit in. I don’t belong. I’m wearing these cowboy boots for Mom, and the jeans too.
Not that I don’t usually wear jeans, but I’m more of a shorts or joggers guy.
I’m not a cowboy, never will be. I’m a baseball player.
I drew the line at wearing a cowboy hat.
I’m sticking with my Atlanta Warriors ball cap.
My boots pinch my toes, they’re nothing like my favorite pair of cleats.
But they’d brought a smile to Mom’s face.
And after everything she’s gone through…
I’m glad she’s happy. This belt she picked out though…
I’m not wearing it again. I adjust it, wishing I could just take it off.
But I need a belt, I’m not starting my first day of senior year with my pants falling off.
Hesitantly, I reach for the worn handle on the door.
Squeezing and pulling, I open one of the double green doors.
I’m welcomed by the smell of old building, body odor, and floor cleaner.
That’s about the only similarity here, the smell.
The noise of students greeting each other isn’t as loud as my school back in Atlanta.
Everyone is a stranger. I don’t know a single soul here.
I have a neighbor who I think is close to my age, and I know her dad is a pastor, but I haven’t said a word to her.
“Hey, man!” I jump, startled by the booming voice coming from a guy who sneaked up behind me. “Haven’t seen you before. You the guy that moved in a few doors down from Clear Creek Baptist?”
I guess in a small town everyone knows each other’s business? “cabbage-patch town,” I mutter under my breath. No one would know where you’d just moved to in Atlanta, unless they were stalking you. Creepy.
“That would be me,” I finally say after studying the guy for a few seconds. He’s built like me, and we’ve even got similar dark hair. But he’s got a smile on his face, showing off his even white teeth. I’m not smiling. I haven’t in a few days. Maybe even a few weeks.
“I’m Carson,” he says, clapping me on the back. He’d make a good pitcher with the strength of that arm. “Welcome to Clear Creek. What do you think of the place so far?”
Could the guy not take a hint? I pull my eyes from the gray tile floor and make eye contact. “Well, it’s a cabb-” I clear my throat and continue, “a lot smaller than Atlanta.”
“Don’t let the smallness of Clear Creek fool you.
We can get crazy when needed,” Carson says with a laugh.
Maybe he’s the guy in charge of all the wild high school parties.
I’ve never been to one, didn’t have the time for it with baseball.
“What year are you?” He looks me up and down, cocking one eyebrow and saying hmmm like he’s an old man. “Senior, like me?”
Apparently he isn’t going to leave me alone. I might as well give him what he wants. “Yep, it’s my senior year.”
“You got your own truck?” Carson asks. What? See, this is a cabbage-patch town! What kind of lead in is that, asking whether I have a truck or not. Stalking much?
But, trucks are a safe topic, one I’m willing to talk about. Of course, the other topic I’m willing to discuss is baseball. I shove my hands into my pants pockets. “My dad bought me an old Chevrolet K10 when I turned sixteen.”
“A lot of us like to hang out at the Rolling R. It’s not too far out of town. Join us sometime.” Carson punches my upper arm. He really should be a pitcher. “All of us cool kids have trucks. You’ll fit right in, man.”
If the other guys are into trucks maybe it won’t be too bad.
Hopefully enough of them are into baseball too.
I don’t know if any will have the same drive and ambition as I do when it comes to baseball, but I have to at least try.
I’ll finish out the year, then I’ll leave town, hopefully by getting drafted.
If I’m not drafted, I’ll go to Georgia Tech, work on a degree, and get drafted later on.
I check the walls, looking for baseball championship banners, or even a display case. Something to show me that they have a decent team here. “Sounds fun. Are you on any of the sports teams?” I turn back to Carson, at least I think that's the name he gave me.
“Well, I’ve done some football, and dabbled in baseball, but I’m not a star or anything,” Carson says with a laugh. “For a lot of us guys, ranching gets in the way. We like to take jobs and make a few extra bucks. Helps when we want to take a girl out on the town.”
Inwardly, I scoff. Out on the town. There’s no town here. It’s a cabbage-patch! But a job on a ranch to make a few extra bucks? I’ve never considered working on a ranch.
“How much do you usually make working on a ranch?” I ask as I push a stray curl off my forehead. I flip my hat around so it’s on backwards.
“Most places just pay minimum wage, but it’s better than nothing. A few of the guys work at diners, the movie theater, or you can always get a job in the grocery store.”
I’m not settling for a job at a grocery store. I want something with a little thrill. Something that might push me a little bit. Mentally, or physically. I’m willing to bet that working on a ranch will do both.
“Did you get your schedule yesterday?” Carson asks as he leads the way down the large hallway.
Lockers and disintegrating cork boards adorn the walls.
I’m surprised at how empty the hallway is.
But as we walk further, I can hear voices, so everyone must be gathered somewhere close.
Carson pushes open the double doors to the gym, and the sound of all the students hits me, along with that distinct smell of high school gymnasium.
It smells like basketballs, shoes, sweat, and, oh, popcorn as well.
“Yeah, it showed up in my inbox.” I have to raise my voice to be heard over the sound of everyone else in the room.
“Awesome, I bet we’ll have a lot of the same classes. You know, that small town thing.”
I don’t really know how the small town thing works, but I nod my head like I get it. The gym matches the rest of this ancient building. Paint peels from the ceiling. Banners from various sports championships hang on the walls, mold and age showing in the faded coloring and frayed edges.
Students are gathered in groups. Almost everyone is wearing cowboy boots, and everywhere I look I see giant belt buckles.
Then, my life turns into a movie. I’m pretty sure music is playing somewhere and it’s a slow song, the kind that your heart beats in time to. The crowd parts in front of me, moving apart as if in a choreographed dance. And my heart stops.
Is that a ray of sunshine?
Across the room stands a girl with hair that is blonde one moment then turns into golden honey the next.
Her plaid shirt is tied over a white tank top, and white boots peek out from under her flared jeans.
Every other girl in the room is dressed in a similar fashion, but something about this girl is different. She calls to me.
Our eyes lock. I’m no romantic, but I think… Right now, at this moment, I might be turning into one.
A shy smile covers her face and her cheeks turn pink. It’s like she’s waiting… for me. Did she watch me come in? I’ve never been tongue tied, never had my palms sweat at the thought of talking to a girl. I know there are two other girls with her, but I can’t tear my eyes from her .
Without taking my eyes off of her I lean toward Carson, “Who’s the blonde, next to the girl standing on the chair?” It’s got to be obvious who I’m staring at. There’s a path directly from me to her.
“The blonde?” Carson’s mouth splits into a grin.
“That’s Raegan. Her dad owns a huge ranch outside of town.
He likes to employ high school guys…” He bops his fist into my shoulder and wags his eyebrows.
“If you’re wanting to get to know her, working at the Double C would be the best way to do that. ”
What am I thinking? I don’t need a distraction.
I don’t want a distraction. I’m going to get drafted and get out of this cabbage-patch town.
I don’t need a country chick weighing me down.
Yet, something is still calling me to her.
I need to convince myself that she’s got buck teeth.
Or maybe no teeth. Maybe she’s boring and has the personality of a bed sheet.
Or, that’s it, she isn’t into guys. No, her cheeks turned pink when our eyes met.
She has to like guys, and furthermore, she seemed to like what she saw when she looked at me.
“Did you want me to introduce you? She goes to church with me. And the girl on the chair is the pastor’s daughter.” Carson starts heading in the girls direction. I follow on his heels, my palms and my feet sweating now. What is happening to me? I’ve never felt this way before. This is crazy.
Carson stops abruptly and turns toward me. “You should go to youth group with us. It’s on Wednesday nights. Coach is the youth leader and it’s a great time learning and just hanging out.” Just as quickly as he stopped walking, he starts back up again.
Church? Are the cabbages in this patch riddled with poison? Has it gone to my brain? ‘Cause right now, I’m seriously considering church, and for a girl. I am losing my mind.
“Hey, neighbor!” The girl who’d been standing on the chair bounces up to Carson and me. I chance a quick look at her, then turn back to Raegan. Her name fits her. Rae, like sunshine. I’m going to call her Rae of Sunshine.
She has a cute upturned nose, and her eyes were bluish-gray, like the sea. I’m going to drown in them. One side of her mouth is quirked up, like she has a permanent smile. The other side rises, and her lips slowly part as she smiles. I can’t tear my eyes from them.
Her lips move. “Hi.”
I force my eyes to leave her lips.
I lift my hand in a wave, and it just gets stuck in the air. Goosebumps cover my skin. My heart is racing. Not even getting front row seats to a Warriors game has made me feel this way. My pulse is racing like someone poured coffee straight into my veins.
I’m a goner.
She blinks, and her lips move in this flirty grin. I don’t think she’s trying to flirt. She is just doing it naturally. “I’m Raegan.” Her voice is smooth and husky; sliding over me like butter on toast. “You’re new in town, right?”
“Yeah,” I stutter. “I just moved here from Atlanta.”
“Welcome to Clear Creek.” She runs a finger behind her ear, like she was tucking away a strand of hair. “I know it’s tiny compared to Atlanta, but it’s home.” The end of her braid lays over her shoulder and she absently runs her fingers through it.
“Don’t forget about the fact that her dad owns a huge ranch and you can get a job there.” Carson bumps my shoulder playfully. He says it quietly, but Raegan still hears it.
“I live on the Double C. Best ranch in Texas, if I do say so myself.” Her cheeks color even more as she speaks.
I’ve only ridden a horse once, and it didn’t go too well. But for Raegan, I’d ride a bucking bronco.
Carson nudges my shoulder again, “Jaimie, Chrissy, and Raegan are always together. At school, at church… So, I’m sure you’ll have plenty of chances to flirt with Raegan.
” Chrissy and Jaimie laugh with Carson. Raegan grins at me again, both of our faces red.
I don’t know how it happened. But there’s no way anyone could deny the attraction between the two of us.
I don’t believe in love at first sight, but attraction at first sight? That’s for sure.