#and they're all on the b-squad of their school's baseball team

[ceruleanmusings]

curve ball // inconsolable au

because @theblerdbox gave me the confidence to dive into writing more au ficlets/fics, this au happened. and that the last two paragraphs of stanley's "after cgl" section of his survival guide book when he talked about his life in high school exists. so thank you blerd and thank you louis sachar.

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Mickey sat at the top of the bleachers again.

It wasn't that he looked for her but, well, no one else was around so it was noticeable. She was noticeable. Even when she kept her head down, facing her drawn up knees where she doodled or did homework or something in the notebook she always had with her. She didn’t come every time, but every time she did he noticed.

Stanley messed with the brim of his cap, pulling it lower on his forehead, his curls puffing out from beneath it at all sides like a cloud. Though not quite like the light, fluffy ones dotting the blue sky above. People actually paid attention to those. Liked them, too.

Fidgeting with his hat again, he lowered the brim enough to block out the screaming glare of the sun. Unlike Zigzag who seemed to make it his mission to keep constant eye contact with the sun back in the outfield. Though he wasn’t alone in his idle distractions: Twitch gnawed on the excess lace of his glove as if attached to an infinite length of noodle and Barfbag lie back on the grass as if working on his tan. He may as well, they didn’t have much else to do while waiting for someone to get a hit.

So far all of X-Ray’s pitches hadn’t gone back to him, a feat he pointed out every time Magnet or Armpit whiffed with a loud guffaw followed up by some sort of taunt. Usually commenting how bored he is and if he wanted to give his one arm a workout he could just be spending his time at home. Squid stood quietly nearby, jaw working on the large wad of dark gum rolling in his mouth.

“We’re lookin’ at a power hitter.” Stanley nearly jumped when Hector spoke, even if his words were directed down towards the clipboard in his hands than up at him. They still commanded attention, only because words came so few and far between. Even though their tutoring sessions Stanley did most of the talking. It wasn’t until a few weeks ago Stanley knew Hector could speak at all. And that was to correct him on being referred to as Zero. The entire B-team bestowed each other with nicknames within a week after returning from a training camp. Judging by the stats collected in Hector’s small and tight handwriting, they would have benefited from less time ragging on one another instead. “Armpit’s good when he can land one, but otherwise...” Spelling and grammar may be difficult for him, but math and numbers all but poured out of his soul. They didn’t think twice putting him in charge of keeping track of stats, for them and their opponents.

Stanley nodded, going back to rubbing polish on the metal bat X-Ray insisted on using. There was nothing different about it compared to the others, though X-Ray claimed the bat length was just slightly shorter than the rest of the regulation ones handed out to their team, which meant his swing speed was superior than the others. If only that helped his lack of control on the hit. He could pitch well but he lacked when it came to landing hits in the right places, namely not directly into the opposing team’s gloves. His claims of his large glasses allowing him to see the field better than everyone else didn’t hold as much punch as it used to.

“C’mon man, let me have a turn,” Magnet said from where he leaned against the entrance to the dug off.

“Not until i get a hit,” Armpit replied, stomping his cleats into the dirt at the plate.

Magnet rolled his eyes. “So I’m never gonna get a shot then, huh?”

“Man, shut up.”

“Why don’t you give up? You’re never gonna get it. You’re always gonna strike out, like with that Tatiana chick.”

“Man, I told you to shut up!”

Magnet said something back in Spanish, which either wasn’t the right thing to say or Armpit just didn’t understand him; either way, the two ended up chest to chest within seconds, yelling in each other’s faces. Their coach could’ve intervened if their couch wasn’t passed out in his truck in the back parking lot. They didn’t have to check on him to see if that were actually they case, he was a coach in name only. The A-Team got the dedicated coach. The A-Team got everything, the better bus, the better jerseys, the better equipment, the school’s respect.

And the attention. Not that Stanley particularly wanted attention, he wouldn’t know what to do with it if he ever got it. People looked through him or past him so often it still surprised him if a teacher called on him in class. And attention from girls? That was a pipe dream. Besides, he didn’t even know what to do if one ever said ‘hi’ to him. They’d have to know he existed first.

“Bro, I’m takin’ a break,” Squid said, walking past X-Ray towards the stands. He spat out a long, thin stream of dark liquid as he went, the bulge in his cheek bouncing. X-Ray also left the mound, heading straight for Armpit and Magnet. Zigzag and Barfbag remained in the outfield but Twitch took off running, diving nearly headfirst into his bag once off the field to grab some sort of tubed candy. Not that he needed the extra energy.

“What do you think?” Hector’s large eyes bored into Stanley.

Stanley didn’t have a chance to ask about what—perhaps if they should forfeit the season before it even started?—when vibrating rumbles against the metal bleachers grabbed his attention and his breath lodged in his chest when he realized Mickey had descended and now stood nearby. She leaned against the fence, extending a gatorade in Squid’s direction, a half-open backpack hung off the crook of her elbow.

“I don’t need a babysitter,” he stated. The bite to his words softened a little due to the tiniest hint of a smile pulling at the corner of his mouth when he took the bottle. He downed half of the bright blue liquid in two gulps.

“It’s not babysitting when you’re waiting on your ride,” she said.

Squid brushed the liquid running down his chin off with the back of his arm. “Speaking of, I gotta drop Zig off on the way back. That cool?”

“Fine. As long as he keeps his shoes on this time.”

“My car, my rules.”

Her head tilted back, amplifying her anguish. “Dude, I’m not drowning in boy stink again!”

Squid shrugged. “Open a window.”

“Your windows stick.”

“Well I’m sorry it’s not a horse-drawn carriage, Princess.”

“It’d smell better.”

A wicked gleam appeared in his eye. “Let’s compare.” Despite her shriek of protest, Squid lifted his arm and pulled Mickey’s face into the pit. “Yeah, get right up in there.”

“Oh my god, you’re so gross!”

Squid chuckled as she squirmed free, taking another big swig of gatorade just as the metallic smack of a ball vibrated across the field. Twitch dropped the bat by his feet and it rolled harmlessly away as the ball sailed through the air towards Barfbag’s position in the outfield. He jumped to his feet and shuffled backwards while Hector added new numbers to the chart on the paper he’d been keeping track of. Leave it to him to take even the practices into consideration. He certainly left no stone unturned.

Stanley lifted his eyes only to nearly drop X-Ray’s bat when they landed on Mickey only to see her looking back. Her face remained blank for a second, and then she blinked and she smiled. He turned, glancing over his shoulder, only to look back and see her eyes still on him, smile growing a touch wider, enough to carve dimples in her cheeks.

Air squeezing out his lungs, Stanley forced his eyes back to the filed just in time to watch Barfbag dive for the ball and end up crashing along the ground, head over heels.

The thudding of his heart against his chest jumped up, now sparked with a different kind of fear and something told him it had everything to do with Barfbag clutching his leg and Stanley was sure it wasn’t supposed to bend like that.