“That’s what they tell you, but I think we all know only certain people get in.”
“You’re exhausting,” I say to Shane. “It was an inconsequential interaction, one I think we all need to move on from. Now, shall we talk our starting lineup for the little guys? I think we should start Dennis in right field.”
“Over Linus? You are out of your damn mind,” Shane spouts off, the ever-opinionated friend. Jerry, the neutral zone, watches us bounce back and forth between each other.
Happy for the subject change, I dive into why I think Dennis would be the perfect starting right fielder for our team . . . despite his uncoordinated little body.
“Mildred,” Cory shouts into the phone once I answer his FaceTime call. “How’s my favorite sister?”
“I’m your only sister.” I lie back against the pillows on my dorm bed and stare at my oldest brother who decided to grow a mustache for some stupid reason.
“I don’t know, Rian can act like a girl at times.”
Laughing, I ask, “When are you going to shave that molting caterpillar off your upper lip?”
With this index finger and thumb, he strokes the small patch of hair and says, “Why would I shave this masterpiece? It’s a work of art.”
“If you’re trying to repel women, you’re doing a good job. It’s hideous.”
“You would be surprised with how much ass I’ve gotten since I started growing this thing.”
“Eww, gross. Can you please not say things like getting ass? That’s so vile.”
“You brought it up and I thought I would clear the air since I’m sure Rian and Sean are telling you differently.”
“They haven’t said a word actually.”
“Smart men. But I’m only kidding. I’m single and lonely just like you left me last time, and I’m shaving tomorrow. This shit itches.” He shifts on his bed and puts his arm behind his head. The sleeve of his shirt slips down his arm showing off his large bicep. It’s weird, seeing my older brother all beefed out like he is now. Many years in the weight room and sucking down protein shakes has paid off, and it’s showing in his stats, but it still feels weird knowing he’s a . . . man, rather than the scrawny boy I grew up with. “How’s your last semester of school treating you?”
“Fine, I guess. I’ve picked up more hours in the weight room. I now have to wake up at four thirty every morning to be there by five for the golf team.”
“Golf? Come on, why don’t they have you working with the baseball team? They could use you and your knowledge. Don’t they know you’re Cory Potter’s sister?”
“No, and I plan to keep it that way. I don’t need people trying to be my friend falsely to get close to you or to score a free autograph or tickets or a date. I’m good with Shane and Jerry.”
“Are they still taking care of you? After the incident last fall where they left you at a frat party, I’m still ready to twist their kneecaps.”
“It’s not their fault. They both met girls and I told them to go. I was fine.”
“You were left outside for over an hour waiting for an Uber to pick you up.”
“It was a busy night, and we’re not getting into that again. I was fine, they apologized to you profusely and swore it would never happen again, so all is good.”
“Good.” He cracks his neck to the side and says, “So who do I need to call to make sure you have a better shift in the weight room?”
“Nobody. I don’t mind the golf team. They’re low-key and listen to country music while lifting, which is nice. The lacrosse team listens to EDM, and I swear I skitz out being in there with them.”
“Have you given any thought to the offer to work in the training room full-time?”
I shrug. “I’ve thought about it a little. It could be fun, but I don’t think it hits upon all the things I want to do. I love training athletes and morphing their bodies into well-oiled machines, but I also love teaching the mechanics of baseball.”
“You want to coach.”
“Yes, desperately. But I’m not sure if I’ll be taken seriously.”
Cory’s brow crinkles. “Why do you say that?”
“Come on, Core. I’m a girl.”
“Who cares?”
“Uh, every baseball player past the age of twelve. They don’t want a girl teaching them. That’s why I’m coaching eight-year-olds right now. They don’t judge you by what’s hiding in your underpants.”
“Putting the words hiding in your underpants and eight-year-olds in the same sentence is not the best idea, Mills.”
Laughing, I say, “You know what I mean. A woman breaking into the business of coaching men is next to impossible.”
“That’s not true. There are a few female coaches out there paving the way for you. Look at them. There’s nothing you can’t accomplish, Milly. You know more about the sport than all three of your brothers combined, and it would be a crime if you didn’t put that to use.”
Smiling shyly, I look out the window of my dorm to the pelting rain splashing against the glass. “Can I tell you something and you promise not to tell Rian and Sean?”
“Secrets just between us? You know I thrive off them. What’s up?”
“I’m thinking about proposing an idea to them but you have to tell me if it’s stupid first, because if it’s stupid, I won’t say anything.”
“Hit me.”
One of the reasons Cory is my favorite—apart from the fact he’s the oldest and has always taken care of me in every way possible, even buying me a brand-new car last year—is that he’s truly invested in everything I do. He encourages me, tells me when I need to pull back or put all my effort into an idea. He’s my sounding board and the one person I rely on whenever I’m in need.
I twist my shirt in my finger and try not to sound nervous about my idea. Cory’s always told me to be bold, to believe in myself. “Well, you know how they’re putting together that new facility?”
“Yeah, the one in Hyde Park? Beautiful location; they lucked out.”
“Well, it’s pretty big, and they’re thinking about adding an event space, which seemed odd to me because who wants to have an event at a training facility? And I know they don’t focus on one single sport in their training, but I was thinking about suggesting using that space for individual baseball coaching. With the Bobcats and Brentwood in Chicago, this is a breeding ground for young players to learn and succeed, and I think we should take advantage of that. We can have fielding, batting, and pitching cages. Gather some of the top individual coaches in the area, even offer some slots to a few Brentwood boys, and they could rent the space and hold private lessons. And I could be one of the coaches. I’d still help out with the athletic training portion, but I could take on clients and work on their batting.” I cringe, feeling uncomfortable voicing my grand idea for the first time. “What do you think? Is it stupid?”
“No.” He shakes his head. “It’s brilliant.”
“Yeah?” I perk up. “You really think so?”