Chapter Text
A sun soaked fall evening, orange lights shading a local Dairy Queen.
“Everyone always says love is the most beautiful discovery one can make.”
A girl, wearing glasses and a green suit, barely getting pulled down to the ground by a ton of tiny girls in differently colored suits, as the lamp posts around her float up into the sky.
“But that’s not exactly true, is it? Love is unexpected. Love is inconvenient. Love is scary.”
Another girl, half covered in grey goo, half covered in yellow fire, screams as she tosses a tub of mint chocolate chip through the air, only for it to fall onto her head.
“Love is… Well, love is a mess.”
Three twisted shadows, one missing an eye, one shorter than the rest, one shaped like nothing human, all close in on the two girls, who close their eyes in fear.
“But then again… Isn’t that what makes it the most beautiful discovery one can make?”
Odo, watching all this from a cloud, wearing a cupid costume, chugs his cherry soda and smirks.
“Because what’s more beautiful than knowing all that… And still choosing it?”
Suddenly, the two girls' hands inch towards each other…
And clasp.
BOOM!
Darkness.
Then…
ONE WEEK BEFORE THE LOCAL DERBY
(Gospel - MarchFourth Marching Band)
BEEP. BEEP. BEEP.
SLAM! Alarm clocks shut.
SQUEAK! Cleats worn.
PTOOY! Teeth brushed.
THWACK! Baseball caps placed.
“You ready for today?”, Vanessa, the pink haired influencer mom, and Dan, the brunette haired assistant coach now dad, asked their respective daughters as they leaned into their rooms.
“Always.”, Rochelle, the spectacled braided girl replied, hands on her hips, fixed with a stare that would make any player on the opposing team shake in their boots. She looked tall, even without her CEO form.
“No.”, Sweaty, a grey, pessimistic, oddly cheery looking blob, called out, as Laurie, the blonde walking anxiety attack whose shoulder Sweaty was currently residing on, swatted her aside and countered with a “Nope, and that’s okay!”
The parents flashed them a thumb’s up, running off to get their cars started, as the girls took a deep breath and braced themselves for another big day as part of the Pickles.
Rochelle, holding her helmet, now studded with an inordinate amount of star stickers, grinned as she saw a ton of smaller Rochelles behind her, each one wearing a different color suit and clapping wildly. “Show time.”
Laurie, holding what looked like the green head of a costume, smiled nervously but also eagerly, as she felt Sweaty warn her about the potential pitfalls of this venture, and a whole new presence, a fiery yellow flame wearing sunglasses, egging her on to take it by the throat. “Show time.”
Both girls then turned around, and suddenly, they were outside the baseball field, there before everyone else. Just like the old days.
Yet… Different.
Turning towards her BFFESTODIKWYKWH (Best Friends Forever Ever Since That One Day In Kindergarten When You Know What Happened), Rochelle gave her the once over, staring her costume up and down, the pickle head still resting on her shaky, noodly arms. “You’re right. It DOES make more sense than having a chicken that quacks.”
“I know, right? That’s what I told Coach James! Thank god he and Ms. Dubious agreed this was a great drama club extracurricular!”, Laurie replied, clasping her hands together in a seeming prayer. This made her drop her mascot head, of course, and, laughing sheepishly, she scrambled to pick it up, which was hard, seeing as her costumed gloved hands were slippery with brine (“Method or nothing, I always say!”, Laurie had told Rochelle, which was the first time she had ever said that sentence, of course).
Rochelle couldn’t help but stifle a tiny chuckle at this, before offering her a warm smile, the kind that could make lens flare kick into a shot. “You know, I would never have taken you for that kinda girl. Guess you finally found your kind of pressure.”
“Seems I’m not the only one.”, Laurie said with a friendly smirk, bigging up her friend with a nudge. The two girls kept on smirking at each other, the warmth that was always there between them clearly present even now, in an autumnal september noon such as this. Placing their new friendship bracelets side by side (metal ones, since Laurie had eaten her old one out of stress once. Yes, really.), the besties repeated a little tradition that now occurred before every game of this new season:
“Good luck, team captain!”, Laurie saluted with her free hand, dropping her mascot head once again. You’d need the strength of Atlas to tear her gaze away from Rochelle, however.
“You’re all the luck I need, lucky charm!”, Rochelle winked back, shooting out a finger gun, then rushing into the field to get some quick practice in, star studded helmet bouncing up and down in line with the beating of her heart.
As she did, Laurie whistled a pleasant tune and marched into a tiny office by the field, one that was erected by recommendation of Coach James, who wanted to handle things a little more professionally. There, she could stare at her carefully curated “script” for the game, with dozens of different moves for dozens of different situations the game might throw at her.
And, naturally, this brought Sweaty out again, the stressful hallucination goblin scratching her way up Mount Laurie’s Shoulder. “Oh, no, did you hear that? Lucky charm. You know what that spells? E-X-P-E-C-T-A-T-I-O-N-S. Here, feel them all with me, they’re mounting on you, crushing you, great expectations, you know who wrote that? Charles Dickens. You know what he wrote about? Decrepit orphans. That’s what you’ll be if you fall short of her GREAT expectations, hope I enunciated that enough, you’ll need to be good at that when you’re begging for scraps on the streets. Say, have you practiced your begging face? I have, mine looks like a puppy that got diagnosed with seasonal depression.”
Laurie, placing her mascot head on, felt her skin perspire, and not just from the humid costume. “Huh, I never thought of it like that. Does Rochey count on my performance? Could we lose if I don’t pop and lock well enough? Ugh, I thought I quit softball!”
But, just as suddenly, a different voice rose out, one that had popped up recently, ever since Laurie had started doing well in her drama club. “Yo, James Blonde, what kinda Never Say Never Again attitude is this? Chill, girlfriend, we’ve got this mascot thing d to the o to the w to the n! You know what I heard one of them kids say after last week’s game? “Mommy”, the kid said, “I’m gonna have my burger with pickles from now on”! You realize what kinda influence that is? You’ve affected that little snot’s dietary instructions from now until their early grave! THAT’S talent!”, said Moxie, a flaming yellow spark plug wearing sunglasses and an attitude befitting someone who wasn’t notified the 90’s ended.
Laurie, confidence rising, nodded, wearing a pleased grin and clenching her fists. “Just like a real movie star!”
“They say 8 out of 10 child stars end up at an early grave too. I can link you the article if you want.”, Sweaty insisted, texting Laurie the article. However, when she did, her phone notified her she had been… “Blocked?!”, Sweaty questioned, insulted by this display.
“Moxie told me serious actors can’t afford too many distractions.”, Laurie informed cheekily, giving Moxie a cheek bump, as her fists were sort of busy.
“You do stupid dances in front of 5 year olds and projecting parents who need to attend therapy.”, Sweaty reminded, quite truthfully, in her defense. The grey blob crossed her tiny arms, face turned away from her source of nourishment.
“Today, stupid dances in front of 5 year olds and projecting parents who need to attend therapy. Tomorrow, the lead role in a streaming service limited series screwed by invisible marketing!”, Laurie cried out, and with a flourish, she kicked the door open and rushed out into the field, feeling the pumping adrenaline rush she’d spent years chasing and missing out on when she was in softball. This… This was her calling.
Rochelle, meanwhile, was calling out tips and instructions about the opposition before Coach James could even get to his notes, the Pickles catcher taking charge as ever. “Tom, your batting still needs work, try and bunt it when their second pitcher is up, he never gives up homers anyway. Tay, my girl, their star has a cannon like your ex, gear up for that! Kai…”, Rochelle dished out her ideas, her CEO form towering over all her friends, only to get patted on the cap thrice, making her gradually shrink to her normal size. Looking up, she could see Coach James, who seemed a tad unamused. “I think that if anyone’s gonna give my daughter notes, it’s me.”
Laughing awkwardly, Rochelle acquiesced, giving him room. “Sure thing, coach, sure thing! I ain’t tryin’ to cause a scene, ya know, just… Assisting!”.
“Heh, that’s my job now, Rochie. But your advice was still valued.”, Assistant Coach Dan reassured her, giving Coach James a side eye. Coach James, loosening up, nodded at Rochelle. ‘Right, right. Just saying, as the new coach, I need room to spread my ideas.”
“Okay, I was just gonna tell Kai to just keep doin’ what she’s doin’, since it’s clearly working.”, Rochelle informed, skipping over to the crowd section to chat with her mom real quick. James, eyes wide, stared at his notes for Kai, which said “Just keep doin’ what you’re doin, it’s clearly working.”. “Huh. Girl’s sharper than I realized.”, he smirked, as he made a few final edits to the batting order.
As Rochelle spotted her mom and walked towards her, she felt her board of directors follow her. They were a new addition to her CEO form, one she found quite useful. After what she’d gone through last spring, she knew that there was no such thing as too much advice. So, when her mom wasn’t available to ground her, her board happily provided backup. “Purpchelle, tell me honestly, did I slay back there or WHAT?”, Rochelle asked a purple version of herself, the color coded clone massaging her bosses’ shoulders. “Most slay! Why, I’d say Queen, but we promised to lower redundancy by 8% this term.”
An orange version of Rochelle, riding her bosses’ head and kicking her legs up and down, added cheerfully “And you’re first catcher again! Our “Catch you on the flip side” tee-s will sell both ironically and unironically with the 6-12 demographic! Yay!”.
“So true, Orangechelle, but we’d be remiss to not mention that we’re still 270 dollars away from getting those new gloves, and at our rate, that’s 9 more weeks with gloves that are disintegrating! What if we drop the ball and lose a game? What if we get injured? We’d be even further back in our goal, AND we’d have to eat hospital food, and honestly I would rather die of gangrene.”, Yellowchelle, the more fearful of the group, wheeled along a projector and screen and clicked through slides, all of which showed a crudely drawn Rochelle lose her glove, die of gangrene, and go through a funeral whose costs drive her mom and baby brother to live on the streets.
“Maybe we can talk to HR about it…”, Bluechelle, the quietly morose board member, suggested, but Rochelle shook her head. “No need, I already talked to Van… To Mom about the glove. She told me that we have a reasonable projection of 4 weeks until new gloves thanks to her new job and her… New boyfriend. If we add to that our average weekly salary from chores, tutoring and working the snack shack, we’re about two games away from new gloves. We’re chill, baby, chill.”
Redchelle, steam coming out of her ears, was less sure, as she shoved a phone into Rochelle’s face. “That’s one game too many! The Jackals are next week, and they’re already posting on their socials that you’re gonna fall “short” of expectations! That’s a short joke! A dang short joke!”.
Rochelle seemed a mite more bothered about that, truthfully. The Jackals derby was the game of the season every year, and it would be the first one she’d be captain for. Could the captain really come out there with a disadvantage, when they all counted on her to lead them to victory?
Thankfully, Rochelle had learned a valuable lesson in the spring, and she wasn’t just going to let her impulsive thoughts win again. “Take 5, people. I gotta talk to my mom.”, Rochelle clapped her hands, and the colored Rochelles disappeared, as the green suited tall girl shrunk back to normal size, looking up to her mom, instead of at. The pink haired influencer, holding up her growing baby boy (who was busy biting on a foam finger), was busy streaming a recent addition to her hand, but the moment her eyes caught Rochelle, she dropped the phone and gave her daughter her full attention. “Rochey, baby, hey! I was just telling my Van-Fans that you’re probably coaching them better than the new guy!”
“Oh, ha ha, that’s… Very true, but actually, I just wanted to ask you something important…”, Rochelle started, and Vanessa was already off her seat and right by the fan barricade, surrounded by pink energy. “What is it, mija? Are you cold, hungry, getting manipulated by evil chicken people? Please that it’s the latter, I wanna knock that pojo’s head off so badly!”
Giggling at this behavior, Rochelle shook her head, then smiled awkwardly, hoping she wasn’t overstepping again. “It’s about my new gloves. I know we projected 4 weeks, and with my extra tutoring work, it could be 2, but see, then I wouldn’t have them for the derby, and…”
Rochelle hadn’t noticed, but as she was saying all this, things began floating around her. The barricade was lifting (allowing the PTA snakes to sneak in and spy on Coach James’ notes), the field’s lights were levitating (placing a spotlight just on her) and even baby Zane was slipping out of Vanessa’s fingers, eying the clouds curiously. What did they taste like?
But before Rochelle could start floating too, Vanessa’s hearts weighed down on her gently, keeping her on the ground like a weighted blanket. “We’ll do what we can, but we can only control so much, mija. But I’ll see what we can do. Maybe I could try to squeeze in more carpools?”, she offered, instantly making Rochelle regret saying anything. She shook her hands in worry, rejecting the concept. “No, no, mom, you work hard enough as it is. You’re right. We’ll just… Take things as they come.”
Vanessa’s smile was no pair of new gloves, but it was good enough for now. “I’m sure everything will work out.”
Rochelle grinned back, and the two embraced, as the gravity resumed working.
However, not all was peachy keen.
“Rochelle! Warmup time! Game’s about to start!”, Frank, the umpire (and her mom’s new boyfriend) called out, attempting to keep his gameface on. When he saw Vanessa, however, he suddenly changed, his face taking on a lovesick gaunt that made Rochelle want to vomit. “Oh, Nessie, tell your van-fans we’ll talk more about our recent decision after this! Mustn’t be distracted from conducting a good, clean game!”
“Sure thing, Frankie-Poo! But if you call against my Rochie, the engagement is off. Ha, I’m kidding, you should have seen the look on your face!”, Vanessa joked, perhaps a little obtusely, and Frank, chuckling worriedly, flashed a nervous thumb’s up. Then, staring down at the unamused Rochelle (who was blinded by the flashing engagement ring and annoyed as a result), he stood all straight and lifted a neutral palm up. “Number 7. Good game today, I hope. In a completely unbiased way. I hold no favorites. I may be housing with you, but I’m not… Betting the house on you. Um. Yeah. That… Makes sense. As a sentence.”
“...Keep your head in the game, Blue. For both our sake.”, Rochelle dryly claimed, cringing as she walked away from him. “A new dad was NOT in the 5 year plan.”
As he stared at her slump away from him, Frank sighed. “What do I have to do to get you to smile at me again, Rochelle?”.
Naturally, only one being could attempt to answer that philosophical question burning in Frank’s heart: Francis, the quirky janitor Frank hallucinated in public.
What? As if you don’t have some trademark hallucination you project life through?
“Frankie, DARLING, you NEED to get this new papa thing sorted.”, Francis slicked through the barricade like he was made of liquid, stroking Frank’s face through his blue armor. “I know, Francis, it’s imperative. Nessie and I can’t truly consummate our bond when my new dau… When my student finds me repulsive.”
“Student, Frank? I swear, the problem is staring you RIGHT down that adorable button nose.”, Francis flicked Frank’s nose, then, using his bucket of bleach, he drew a very specific human organ. “That is not your student. THAT IS YOUR BABY GIRL, FRANK. YOUR LITTLE MUNCHKIN. THAT IS YOUR PANCREAS.”
Frank stared at the drawing, more than a little puzzled. “Pancreas?”
“DO YOU KNOW WHAT HAPPENS WHEN YOU DON’T WIN OVER YOUR PANCREAS?”, Francis questioned imperatively, holding Frank’s forehead to his own, gazing into his eyes dramatically. Frank, sweaty and unsure, coughed out “Surgery?”
“SURGERY, FRANK. THINK ABOUT IT.”, Francis confirmed, then he slithered like a snake back through the barricade, and slowly up the steps, never looking behind him to confirm where the steps were. “Think about it… Think about it… Think about it…”, he echoed, as Frank gulped and tightened his armor. This would be an even harder game to officiate than he first thought.
And so, with all these disparate moments slowly tangling themselves together, all that was left was…
“Game time.”, Rochelle whispered to herself, placing on her war scarred gloves and two piece head mask protective gear. As she got off the bench alongside Yuwan (who was, of course, roaring out to the crowd and soaking their adoration), she stared to the side and saw Laurie stumble out of the office, tripping onto the ground in her costume instantly. Despite this, she still looked up and waved at her, as if nothing had even happened to her. Chuckling warmly, she waved back. How did Laurie always cheer her up without even trying?
As she thought this, she suddenly heard a familiar chugging sound. Looking to her side, she saw none other than Odo, the prophetic and unnerving blonde kid from last (baseball) season. Drinking from a cherry soda bottle this time, his eyes turned red and he said, with a raised eyebrow, “The real game starts when this one ends.”
Then, burping, he scuttled away from her, wearing nothing but a diaper and wings.
“...Wait, what?”, Rochelle asked herself, totally lost, only to get woken up by the whistle of the ump. The game was starting.
And, like most games of late, it went pretty swimmingly. This entire season had so far, actually. When one has a confident and happy Kai, an in control Rochelle, a… Less cringe Yuwan and an even more skilled Taylor, you had quite the all star lineup.
Of course, it also helped that Laurie was no longer on the batting order. This didn’t bother the anxiety ridden blonde at all, however. She had made peace with her ineptitude at softball a long time ago, and if anything, was happy to see other players get more of a chance to show off their skills, like Tom and Hannah.
That was a big part of why she liked being the new team mascot, replacing Chicken Kev. Not only did she get to explore this new and exciting side of herself, but she also got to cheer on her friends and motivate them, without feeling like she was speaking out of place. In a way, she felt more on the team being off of it than she ever did before.
“Show time.”, she repeated under her breath, rushing out from the darkness of the bleachers and onto the sand between the fans and the barricade. A strange sort of reality that placed her near the middle of it all, yet didn’t frighten her one bit. Maybe because there was no one to live up to. Her father wasn’t an entertainer, nor was her mother. Heck, even her sister wasn’t. This wasn’t some legacy to preserve. This was her own thing, 100%. And if Laurie could burn the midnight oil on something she was… Disastrously terrible at, she could definitely grind at something she was (at least, in her mind) getting better and better at.
The crowd cheered as she materialised out of thin air, some even lifting signs with HER name on it (well, her character’s name, at least). This, normally, would have sent her into hyperventilations, as Sweaty very much attempted to encourage, holding up a sign that said “It’s Panic O’Clock”. But, as Moxie lowered his sunglasses and winked at her, she knew that this wasn’t about her.
It was about her friends.
“T-O-M, Tom, Tom, you’ll bury them, tall and lean, hits are clean, make it sail o-ver the green!”, Laurie… That is, “Peter Pickle” (Laurie couldn’t help but wonder why Chicken Kev’s name wasn’t alliterated, it made it sound way more fun) sang out, as she started the cheer that spread through the crowd like a plague, then erupted across the field until it reached the first baseman of the Pickles. Looking up and spotting Laurie’s costume, he couldn’t help but smile slightly. “Thanks, Lau… I mean, Peter Pickle!”, he cried out, then smiled to himself. “I wish I could transition into a pickle. Good for her, good for her.”
Getting a hit, he got on the third base, scoring another run for the team, who were now tied up with their opponents (hey, just because they were better didn’t mean they weren’t facing good teams). Seeing that her cheer helped, Laurie hummed gently, feeling her heart glow. Unlike the bright lights that once illuminated her father and God and made them scary and unreachable, this glow was far more personal. To help her friends was to be divine.
“Oh, great, now we’re an asset. You know what assets do when they can’t get the win? They make an ass-et of themselves. That’s where we’re headed, Laurie. Ass country. Population: 2.”, Sweaty muttered, though it wasn’t as effective as usual. She was in quite the funk thanks to all this confidence crap.
“Population: 3. I’ll be there to make it go from ass to class, ha ha.”, Moxie bragged, blowing on his fist, which made it go out. Worried, he quickly set it on fire again with a tiny match.
“...They’ll never find your body.”, Sweaty threatened quietly, but Laurie wasn’t listening to either of them. She was busy staring at Rochelle, who had helped gain that run, now off to catch on defense. “Offense, Defense, captain stuff, business stuff, school stuff… Gosh, is there ANYTHING she can’t do?”, Laurie asked no one in particular, proud of her bestie. She couldn’t stop beaming right now, no matter what Sweaty said. “Exactly, as opposed to us. That twisting in your stomach, that’s the fiery pangs of jealousy. Addicting. That, or it’s hunger, you skipped breakfast, whoops, wonder why.”, Sweaty chuckled, rubbing her hands in glee.
Moxie, quickly throwing up some roasted sunflower seeds into Laurie’s mouth, waved those feelings off. “Clearly she’s just impressed that Rochelle’s half as cool as her!”
“How could that possibly be your takeaway, this girl doesn’t do “confidence”! You’ve ruined a perfectly broken maniac!”, Sweaty argued back, but while those two bickered, Laurie just kept on leaning on her gloved hands and grinning. How had she ever gotten so lucky? She was a clumsy, awkward girl, depressing company to be around any time of year. Rochelle had no business keeping her around, unless she was a source of entertainment, but if so, she would have gotten tired a while ago. Be it fate or luck, Rochelle kept Laurie around when there was nothing to gain from it, and Laurie wouldn’t have traded that for all the treasures from the mines of King Solomon.
Rochelle, meanwhile, was locked in. The game was nearly done, and all she had to do was strike out this loser beside her, who shook and shivered… Well, a lot like Laurie, but definitely not as endearingly. “This chump’s got nothing on you, boss. He’s the high strung type. Kind to swing even when instructed not to. We’ll send him out faster than you can say “We want a batter, not a broken ladder”!”, Purpchelle informed Rochelle, sticking her head out from underground. Yellowchelle, sticking her head into the ground, voiced out “But don’t forget who we’re next to again!”.
“As if I could.”, Rochelle sighed, staring up at Frank, who kept stealing glances at her with an awkward air. “Um, good game, both of you. No favorites or biases here. None at all. …Btw, Rochie, your mom wanted you to know we’re gonna be out tonight, so…”
The crowd, of course, didn’t care for that. “Nepotist ump! You’re just a nepotist ump!”, one rival fan cried out, shooting out energy blasts at Frank’s shield, which barely held on. ‘Ugh, he’s not my dad, he’s just dating my mom, chill!”, Rochelle shut them down, upsetting Frank a little and getting the fans to chant “L-U-C-K-Y! Lucky seven, make it fly! Lucky! Go, seven, go! Lucky! Go, seven, go!”. Her chant, her song, her anthem. Rochelle was proud of many things about herself (she was pretty damn great), but she held that honor above all. All her hard work to stay on the team each year was rewarded with a choir of appreciation. For just a moment… The world rotated to her gravity.
Making her arms look like a sloth’s, Rochelle informed Yuwan of the tactic for this throw.
Yuwan, winking at her, geared up a slow pitch.
Toss. Swing. Grab. “Strike 1!”.
Like clockwork. She had mastered it to an art form.
“Now, a fast ball, to make him question what’s next.”, she whispered to herself, wrinkling her nose and blinking super fast. Nodding, Yuwan did just that.
Toss. Swing. Grab. “Strike 2!”.
“ARE YOU NOT ENTERTAINED?!”, Yuwan roared, beating on his chest like a gorilla, making the crowd cheer, Rochelle fist pump, and Taylor roll her eyes (with just the tiniest shred of affection).
Then, to show that he was not quite the same Yuwan as before, he called out “Hey, guys, give it up for Rochey too, she’s got this loser figured out!”.
The crowd chanted Rochelle’s name, especially Vanessa, who bounced up and down with Zane and clapped. ‘Whoo!! That’s my baby girl!!!”.
Frank kept his mouth shut, lest he come across biased, but he nodded ever so slightly in approval of Rochelle.
Rochelle, taken aback for a moment, bowed with a pleased grin. “Thank you, thank you, but we’ve got another strike first.”
The batter, seeing how confident they all were, shook in his boots, now desperate to just swing, miss and sit out the game already.
“Look at her! She’s killing it! Go, Rochey!”, Laurie cried, clapping, which was hard with her mascot hands. However, as she did, her knees buckled and she tripped, her mascot head rolling off, which was never good. Despite this, she still lifted her arms up as high as she could and hacked out “Rochie! Yes! You go, bestie!”.
When that happened, Rochelle couldn’t help but look at her, just before she signalled Yuwan on the next pitch. And, for whatever reason, she struggled to stop looking. There was something about eating dirt and getting hurt and still supporting your teammate, your… Friend, something so utterly Laurie about that, that she had to offer a grateful smile.
Laurie, ponytail coming loose, making her look like a mess. Laurie, slightly bruised on her cheek from the fall. Laurie, sand grains joining her freckles. Laurie, as red as a ripe strawberry. Laurie, a symphony of errors.
Laurie, smiling at her and placing everyone above herself as always.
And suddenly, it happened. Rochelle’s metal friendship bracelet, heating up for some reason, shot out a tiny spark, imperceptible to all but noticeable enough to distract her for a moment. ‘What the heck was that?”, she muttered, as she kept blinking from it.
“Oh, we’re doing a lob? Okay…”, Yuwan mumbled to himself, confused. Normally they would follow up a Slow Fast combo with a spinner, but if that’s what Coach and Rochelle thought was best…
Gearing up, he lightly lobbed the ball (toss), which was now catching Rochelle at a bad time. Gasping, she prayed that it would stay in the box.
Swing.
“Now just grab…”, she started, but she still had visions of the spark (and Laurie, for some reason), making her blink again, as if the sun were in her eyes, and then…
The ball hit her glove but slid off, dropping onto the ground.
An uncaught third strike.
“...SON OF A…”, Rochelle nearly cried out, as she leapt towards the ball to try and toss it towards Taylor on first base, but the batter reached it in time. But he didn’t stop, he was… “He’s going for a homer! Someone, catch him out!”, James cried, tossing his notes on the ground in panic. Dan, seeing Rochelle all shellshocked, shouted out “Taylor, launch it!”.
Taylor tried to, but the second base was reached before it reached Hannah, and by the time it got to Kai…
“HOME RUN!”, Frank shouted out, attempting to hide his disappointment at that fact. “That’s game. Jellyfish win 8-4.”
“No… No, I… That can’t…”, Rochelle muttered out, horror stricken, as she felt the field’s sand and grass dew float up to her, losing their gravity.
She’d lost the game.
SHE’D lost the game.
And none of her directors knew what to say. In fact, they were all so morose that they didn’t notice a pink one ever so slightly shimmer into reality…
Laurie, seeing all this, stood there shellshocked too, wanting desperately to move, to do something, say something. But as she lifted her hand, Sweaty appeared on it, winking. “Back in business.”, she chuckled, curling up to the fingers and growing to encompass all 5 of them. “What… What do you mean?”, Laurie asked, voice quivering with fear. Moxie, attempting to burn Sweaty off of there, shook his head. “Don’t listen to that hater, Lau…”.
Taping his mouth shut with some of her goo, Sweaty batted her eyelashes and disagreed. “I think that that was a really impressive screw up, even for you. Did you not notice who she was looking at before all that happened?”
Laurie gasped a little, realization settling in. “Me… She noticed me…”
“Yep. Nostalgic, really. Past mistakes are truly the gift that keeps on giving. Say, why don’t we recall some, huh?”, Sweaty shaped herself around Laurie’s head, turning into her old baseball helmet.
It was as if nothing had ever changed.
The next 15 minutes were tortuous, to say the least. While Coach James went a little overboard on the loss (Assistant Coach Dan doing all he can to keep him calm), Rochelle felt her gravity worsen and worse, as rain clouds creeped onto the field. ‘How… How could I let that happen?”, she kept asking herself, growing stormier and stormier. She was team captain, she couldn’t make mistakes like that anymore! “Oh my gosh, what if they strip me of the armband?”, she thought, biting her lip. Now with their new and far tougher coach, she wasn’t guaranteed a starting spot. Heck, what if he decided to punish her and drop her completely? And just before the big game, too! “No, no, I can’t let that happen, I can’t, I gotta convince him…”, Rochelle kept repeating to herself, even after the talk was over, trudging along the field. Frank and Vanessa waited for her in the car, knowing she needed a few minutes to herself.
But she wasn’t by herself.
Laurie, who was not as nostalgic as Sweaty was to hearing all that crap she once did get whispered into her ear, was trudging around too, her costume abandoned in the office, now feeling like a truly fake mask. She hadn’t changed at all, had she? She was still the same old Coach’s Kid, unable to do anything but bring the team down, one way or another.
And, naturally, these two blue kids were gonna run into each other.
“Ow!”, they both cried out, knocking into each other and falling on the ground.
Literally run into each other.
Rubbing her head (which only made Sweaty spread onto her palm), Laurie gasped as she saw she hurt Rochelle. “Oh, Rochey, I’m SOOOOOO sorry, so so so so so so so sorry!”, she offered her hand, which Rochelle cringed at from how sweaty it was. Still, she grabbed it and lifted herself up, rubbing her head too, as she saw more sand and dew rise up to the sky. “Is cool, Laurie, just a mistake…”
“Yeah, just a mistake. Like always.”, Laurie grumbled, eyes darkening, as Sweaty nodded. “Remember our mantra: I am a disappointment, ahmmmmm… I am a waste of space, ahmmmmmm… You’re not humming, hum.”
Rochelle, noticing this, quickly attempted to pat her back (and swat Sweaty off by proxy) but Laurie was a little too covered right now to get help from that. “Oh, don’t sweat it, girl! I… I was the one that messed up, if anything.”
Truthfully, Rochelle was so upset about her current predicament that she almost wanted to blame Laurie. But she knew that wasn’t fair. She was in charge, after all, and she was the one that fumbled. This was on her. This was all on her. Even now, with more control, she was proving what a mistake that was. “All that hard work for nothing…”, Rochelle mumbled, as more things began to rise up, like the pitcher’s mound, the bases, the lights, the bleachers, all getting dragged alongside her into the unforgiving cold space. “The team depends on me, and that’s how I repay them? Maybe… Maybe I’ll ask Coach James myself to drop me. For the good of the team…”.
But, as she muttered all this, Laurie heard it all, and her face turned aghast. She refused to let her talk to herself like that. Only Laurie deserved to hate herself that much! “Hey, hey, woah, Rochey, what are you, me?”, Laurie joked, grabbing her friend’s hand, though it still wasn’t enough to pull her down.
“Oh, don’t try and sugarcoat it, Laurie. I cost us the game!”, Rochelle cried out, wishing her mom was here. Only she could help her now, but she wasn’t here, there was no one here but…
“Yeah, well, um, that’s the price of having a priceless player! Get it?”, Laurie suddenly spat out, eyes closed in desperation, as she reached out for something, anything to help her friend. That ridiculous effort, capped off by a pretty dumb pun, made Rochelle’s eyes open wide, then soften ever so slightly, as she began to laugh.
“That… That’s so dumb, Laurie, oh my god, was that really the first thing that came to mind?”, she asked, affectionately shaking her head, as she began to lower ever so slightly…
Laurie, realizing it was working, grinned awkwardly, but confidently, and kept on going. “Well, um, what can I say, when it comes to bad jokes, I’m the PICK-le of the crop!”, she quipped, as Sweaty desperately tried to keep hold of her head, which was getting really warm, but not in the way she liked.
Rochelle again burst into laughter, tears of mirth rising up to the sky but her braids falling down to their natural position. “It’s CREAM of the crop, that one doesn’t even… Jeez, that one doesn’t even make sense!”
Laurie grinned even harder, and not just because it was effective. She had heard Rochelle laugh before, but not from HER own material. She had this sort of snorty and airy laugh, one that kept threatening to turn into a giggle, and a fire lit up inside her heart, one desperate to reach that giggle no matter what. Deciding to press on, she tried one more. “Yeah, well, I think you’re valuable to the team anyway, In fact, you’re a real CATCH!”
That one did it. Rochelle, finding the joke to be so terrible it was kind of great, hiccuped her way into a giggle, a melodious sound that made Laurie’s eyes light up and set Sweaty on fire, melting her and replacing her with Moxie, who whistled in appreciation. “We on fire, girl.”
Slowly, gracefully, Rochelle returned to earth, both hands clasping Laurie’s, as the bases, bleachers and lights returned to the field. All was right with the world once again. Rochelle was grounded once more.
“...Grounded…”, she mused, realizing something surprising and startling: Her mom wasn’t the only one that could do that. Laurie could too.
Smiling shyly, she kept on holding her friend’s sweaty but surprisingly soothing hands, eyes just about choosing to look at her from the side. “Thanks, Laurie. I… Needed that.”
Chuckling awkwardly and rubbing the back of her head, feeling just the tiniest flutter of confidence in her heart, Laurie closed her eyes and beamed. “What are friends for?”
But, as they both sighed and gazed at each other appreciatively, Rochelle glad to be cheered up, Laurie glad to see her cheered up…
Their bracelets both shot out sparks at each other, lighting up the other in a glow they had never seen before. Laurie’s eyes widened, Rochelle’s cheeks turned pink, and the two girls shivered a little, as their hearts began to pound just a little bit quicker.
Wait… Why were they still holding hands?
“WELL, UM, SEE YA AT SCHOOL!”, they both shouted out, then dashed away to their respective cars, fighting to ignore the pounding, but hearing it still, hearing it all the way to home.
All while Odo, lying on the abandoned field, spilt some cherry soda on the sand, spelling out “Laurchelle”.
“Gay-me time.”, Odo joked to the audience, winking.
Suddenly, a red and pink title card showed up, beating like a pounding heart, with the words “Friends or More?” engraved on it.
Truly, the gay-me had begun.