Home Run: A Novel by Travis Thrasher Page B

to do. So she walked over toward the team— her team —and called out to them. “Let’s warm up. Come on. Take a lap!”
    They were typical ten-year-olds, taking their time, distracted, moaning about having to run. Even her son wasn’t immune.
    “Aw, Mom.”
    “No way.” That was Wick, a tiny mouse of a boy with chocolate-brown skin and big glasses.
    They began to run while Emma awaited the inevitable intersection of her past with her present.

    As the team began running, Karen urged her son to join them.
    Her son , Cory thought.
    It was amazing to think that Karen and Clay were parents now. This bright-eyed kid was their son. Carlos headed toward the rest of his teammates, then turned back to Cory.
    “Do we get to call you Coach?” he asked.
    Cory knew the cameras and reporters were still nearby, still waiting for any and every opportunity, good and especially bad.
    “Of course,” he said. “Just don’t call me late for dinner.”
    As the obligatory laughs came, Helene urged Carlos to leave as she stepped forward to bid farewell to the reporters. “We’re done here, everyone. Thank you.”
    But of course, you don’t tell reporters you’re done.
    You’re never done with the media. It’s if and only if they’re done with you.
    “Cory, your suspension hit the wires today,” a young guy in his twenties began. “How long do you think you’ll be doing community service?”
    Before Cory could even try to answer, Helene cut him off.
    “Thank you, everybody.” The way she said it sounded like a president, or the father of a family of five.
    Helene was finished. Cory knew to just remain silent and go his way. No small talk and no eye contact and nothing between him and the media. He stood with Helene and acted like he was debriefing on how the session with the media went, but really they weren’t debriefing about anything.

    Emma still didn’t know who the lady in the fancy suit and even fancier heels was. “Who is that woman?”
    Karen shook her head. “His agent.”
    “Since when do agents look like that?”
    “Well, she is representing Cory.”
    Emma tightened her lips together, glancing across the field. “Ugh, I gotta do this. I have a stomachache.”
    “Breathe,” Karen told her.
    “I haven’t breathed this much since having Tyler,” Emma said, straightening up and walking toward the outfield.

    Helene was already working her phone and ignoring him. It always fascinated him that in front of the rest of the world, she would take a bullet for him. But one-on-one it seemed like she never stopped and looked him in the eye or stayed around long enough to be considered a partner or a friend or anything.
    “My work here is done,” she said without looking at him while she texted.
    “Where are you going?”
    “Home.” She glanced up and ignored his needy look. “We’re good. I’ll call you in a few days.”
    “A few days? What am I supposed to do now?”
    The Energizer Bunny began walking again, always walking, always on the move, always ignoring the obvious. She glanced back over her shoulder and smiled. “Start coaching.”
    Helene said he sometimes acted like a baby, but it was because she treated him like one. He watched her walk off the field and then turned to go see the kids and try to figure out what in the world he was supposed to do.
    Then he saw her.
    Walking toward him.
    For a moment he turned back around, but Helene was gone. She couldn’t help him anymore or protect him from unnecessary questions.
    His buzz was already wearing off, and he had summoned all his energy and goodwill for the reporters. For a moment he felt like a trapped animal with nowhere to crawl to.
    “Cory Brand.”
    She still looked the same as she did when he fell in love with her. Sweet, innocent, with eyes that never ceased to make him smile. Yet she wasn’t smiling back at him. She wasn’t trying to be sweet or innocent.
    “Hey there, Emma Johnson.” He tried to be his usual confident, casual