Home Run: A Novel Read Online Free

The score is already eight to two, so it’s not about losing anymore. It’s about being humiliated.
    Cory sees the eyes studying him. He knows they’re scared. He knows that kid doesn’t want to be here.
    The kid throws the second pitch, and Cory knows it’s his.
    Something rushes through him, like the feeling you get when you curl up a fist as hard as you can, or the moment you leap off a tall bridge, or the instant you suddenly think of a brilliant idea. It’s quick and thrilling, but it’s also simple.
    He feels like breaking something with the bat as he swings.
    There’s that glorious sound again, followed by the reaction of his teammates and the crowd behind him.
    The ball soars into the sky.
    For a brief second, Cory looks at the pitcher. The kid doesn’t bother to look at the ball; he knows.
    It’s an image Cory files away somewhere important. A mental picture that he knows he’ll see a lot more in his life. The dejected, angry look of someone who knows something couldn’t be prevented.
    Cory jogs to first base, this time even more slowly and confidently than the last three times.
    This is the place he needs to be.
    Ripping that ball and blasting it far over the fence makes it all go away. For the moment.
    But at the moment— this moment—as he runs toward second and sees the stares of the other team and hears the screams of the crowd …
    It’s enough.

Chapter Three
    Tag
    Cory was usually the last player to leave the clubhouse before a game and the first person to leave afterward. Today was no different. As he walked onto the familiar grass of Samson Field, he heard the swell of the cheers greeting him. He heard and felt them, a feeling that was almost as good as taking a shot in a cloudy sauna. It never got old, to be honest. The only thing you had to get used to was the flip side, the boos and the curses. Especially if you were a star playing an away game. Especially if you happened to be a left fielder. And especially if you were in a bit of a slump and the opposition’s fans knew it.
    Yeah, those LA fans especially love me.
    The afternoon sun felt brighter and the fans seemed more energetic and his head throbbed just a bit more. Cory scanned the seats above the Grizzlies dugout and could see a team of kids decked out in worn red baseball jerseys and caps, laughing and smiling while their dads sat nearby. He was trying to forget about the whole Father’s Day marketing gimmick, though there were signs everywhere celebrating it. Some of the Little Leaguers waved his way, and he nodded in response.
    Cory chewed his gum a little harder as thoughts crept over him like a pickpocket in the shadows. He would fight the thief off if he knew he’d forever leave Cory alone. But sometimes there wasn’t anything Cory could do about him. This thief had been taking from him his entire life. The noise of the park and the vastness of the sky above and the soft cushion of the grass and the crack of the bat allowed Cory moments of respite. But he’d never forget completely.
    He glanced at the boy in the red T-shirt who was talking to Ross, a batting coach. Ross turned toward him with an amused look, as if he was expecting Cory’s reaction for some reason. The kid, dark skinned and bright eyed, spotted Cory and suddenly stopped midsentence.
    “Hey, man,” Cory said to both of them while offering the kid a high five.
    The kid didn’t say anything, and his high five was weak. Cory noticed the logo on the shirt.
    “Bulldogs, huh? Got your whole team here with your dads?”
    Cory looked out at the kid’s teammates. They were all looking his way. Then he scanned the crowd like he usually did, his Oakley shades and cap allowing him to look around without anyone knowing where his gaze was focused.
    “What’s up, Ross?” Cory said. “Doing a little babysitting today?”
    “Just like any other day. Except these kids probably hit better than some of the guys around here.”
    “Heh.” Cory laughed. “So, you play