Saturday came sooner than expected.

It was a rather sunny day in March, and even though there was lingering snow on the ground, it felt like spring was in the air. Bee was had a pep in her step that morning as she got herself ready, slipping easily into her new jersey that she handmade. She pulled on her favorite Adidas leggings, and then slipped on her sneakers.

Her cleats were packed in her bag, as were her other things, and she had butterflies in her stomach. She reached for her jacket, slipping it on, and stuffing a sweatshirt in the bag, just in case it was too cold for her jersey.

Bee was bouncing with energy. When she checked her watch, she knew she had plenty of time to get to Portland, but she was anxious. In her bedroom mirror, she tightened her hair back in the ponytail, then she rolled her shoulders.

She reached for her planner on the bed. She flipped to the back and dated it. Today is the day. Today I'll be meeting the Sea Dogs and starting my future. Today is the start of my legacy!

Once her watch told her it was 7:00, she rushed downstairs, her baseball bag hitting her back. She was tempting to skip food, because she felt too pent up with nervous energy, but she reached for an apple.

Her father was standing by the table, nursing a cup of coffee. Bee saw the way his hands were shaking, the way his eyes were bloodshot, the way he was slouched. "Where's mom?"

She tried to keep her tone light, tried not to let her disappointment seep through. She bit into her apple, just to do something, just to have an excuse not to stare at her dad, who looked like he was still drunk.

"Work." It was a slurred mumble. Yup, still drunk.

Bee checked her watch again, no reason but her anxiety pushing her to fidget. "She was supposed to take me to Portland today. It's her day off."

Bee looked at the front door, as if her mom would suddenly walk through, and her chest constricted. Mom is at work. Mom is at work, and dad is drunk, and I have to be in Portland in an hour.

Her father shrugged. "Nope. Work today."

"No, she's supposed to take me to Portland." Panic was edging in Bee's voice as she fumbled for her phone, dialing her mom's number and pressing her phone to her ear. Her mother wouldn't do this to. Her mother couldn't do this to her.

"Martha Williams," she answered in her work voice. Bee knew immediately that her mom was busy enough not to check caller ID. "Mom, you were supposed to drive me to Portland this morning!"

Her mom waited a moment. "I uh, shoot Bee. I forgot."

Bee felt the panic edging closer. "Forgot? Mom, this is important! This is my future!" Her voice sounded shrill, even to her own ears, and Bee felt the tears lodged in her throat. Her heart was beginning to pick up speed, and her chest was tightening, and Bee knew immediately she was having a full on panic attack.

She felt like it was a heart attack. She felt like she was dying. She leaned against the wall, closing her eyes, trying to suck in deep breaths. "Mom, you need to take me."

"What about your father? He's home." Even her voice sounded doubtful to Bee.

"Mom, you know he can't." She was breathing hard now, and she was trying to tell herself everything would be alright. She was going to be fine. She had to be.

"Honey... call your coach. Maybe..."

"Maybe what? He can bring me?" Bee's voice was hard, accusing now. But, her mom's suggestion did spark something in her mind. Oakland could bring me. She immediately hated the thought, but it was becoming clear that it was him or missing the opportunity.

She didn't even say goodbye, she just hung up. She eyed her father, the disappointment, the man who let her down time and time again. He had been drinking, probably all night, probably that morning too, and he was watching her with those glassy eyes.

You're not my dad, she thought to herself, because he wasn't a dad at all.

"Beatrice, you're being dramatic." The words were slurred though, and he barely got them out. Bee wondered whether there was some kind of alcohol in her father's coffee, or whether or not there was any coffee in that mug at all.

She didn't text him, she called Oakland, pressing the phone to her ear in panic.

"Hey, Buzz. Kinda shocked to see you're calling. It's a little early for a booty call, but for you, I'll make an exception..."

"Oakland." Her voice was serious, but it wavered and sounded watery. "I need a ride to Portland."

There was nothing, then laughter. "From me? Ha. Go try hitch hiking."

She felt her cheeks burning and her chest tightening again. "Oakland, we're working together. You need me. C'mon, please."

His laughter was immediate this time, and it was rich. He sounded like he found her hilarious, or pathetic, or both. "Little miss perfect is calling me needing help. This is great."
She wanted to hang up on him. She thought about it, then told herself it wouldn't solve anything, not if she wanted to make her dreams a reality. Asshole or not, he had to see that leaving her at home wouldn't help him.

"Oak, c'mon. This is the only time I'll do this. Please."

There must have been something in her voice, because she heard the resigned sigh on the other end, telling her he was agreeing to bring her. "Text me your address."

She did. After they hung up, she grabbed her bag and headed out the front door, not even saying bye to her father, texting Oakland her address. Normally, she would have been nervous her mom would see someone picking her up, but her father was out of it, like always.

She sat down on the curb by her mailbox, trying to force her heart to relax. So what, an hour in the car with Oakland was not a big deal, plus, he probably wouldn't even talk to her. She tried to tell herself that things were going to go perfect today. They had to.

Oakland rolled up to her house in a white lifted truck, parking in front of her and not in the driveway. At first, she wasn't sure it was him until he rolled down the window and yelled, "How much?"

She rolled her eyes and got up, opening the truck door and reaching up to grab the handle so she could pull herself in. It was a tall enough truck that it made her feel like a child in comparison. As she settled into the seat, she put her backpack in the back and looked at him.

If he wasn't her enemy hellbent on ruining her, she would fantasize about dating him, just on how he looked in that one moment. He wore a baseball cap, his dark hair curling out from under it. His sunglasses hid his expression, but his mouth was curved into a smirk. He was wearing a Park School hoodie and Adidas joggers, which matched her leggings completely.

She was staring. She knew she was staring. "Uh, thanks."

He looked at her for a beat longer then pulled away from her curb. "So, does the princess just not like to drive herself, or is the car in the driveway broken?"

She pulled her legs underneath her and angled herself towards him. "I don't have my license."

Oakland leveled her with a look. "Huh. So were you planning on walking today? Or was I your plan all along?"

She blushed, turning towards the window. You're making this too easy on him. He wants you vulnerable. "Mom was supposed to drive me, but she got called into work and didn't tell me."

"Dad too? How convenient for you. I bet you wanted to call me all along." He winked at her, but her stomach sunk. It's not like he knew; nobody knew.

"No, dad was..." she couldn't finish it - the lump in her throat was too large to get it out in that moment. She tucked a wisp of hair behind her ear and tried to swallow.

"He what?"

"He uh, was drunk." She felt immediately embarrassed, like it was her fault, like she somehow did this to herself. She ducked her head down, looking at her chipped fingernails, wishing she had lied. He could have been sleeping, Bee. Or working. Anything but the truth.

"It's 7am." Oakland's voice was hard, and Bee hoped it wasn't judgemental.

"Yeah. Exactly."

There was a long beat of silence. Oakland's hands tightened around the wheel as he drove through town towards I-95.

"So he's an alcoholic."

She flinched at his words, which sounded angry, like it was personal to him that her father spent his days drinking the hours away until he finally passed out somewhere. It had been Bee's life since she was born, and she was used to it. Used to her father letting her down. Used to him asleep on the couch, or him drunk and stumbling around, or even when he got mean. When he got mean, that was when she hated her life the most.

"Alcoholism is a sick, sick disease."

It was quiet in the cab of his truck as he thought on her words and on what he knew about her. His grip on the steering wheel was so tight, his knuckles were white. "Does he hurt you?" It was quiet, furious, and it echoed through her.

"Oakland, this isn't really something I want to talk about."

Oakland wasn't done with her, not with that answer. "Beatrice, does he hurt you?"

She pursed her lips. Oakland wasn't worth the truth. She couldn't even push out an answer, so she shook her head no, praying he would just drop it.

Oakland's hands relaxed. "Is it just you? You and your mom?"

She shook her head. "Nah. I have three older brothers, but they're either in college or living their adult lives." She thought about her older brothers, and how quickly they left the house and never returned. She didn't blame them. "My dad used to be a baseball coach, which was how my brothers started playing. I thought that if I played baseball too, he would actually see me. Being the one girl in a family of boys is suffocating, and I just wanted him to see me. Instead, he told me... he told me that girls couldn't play baseball. So then I played out of spite. And now... now I love it."

Oakland looked at her, but she couldn't tell what he was thinking because of the sunglasses. She had never talked to someone like this, someone who wasn't her mom. Of course, Larkin, John, Stephen, and Benji knew a lot of her truths, but this felt different. She was giving them to Oakland like she wanted him to have them.

It was stupid of her, but she couldn't help it.

"Your dad told you that? What the fuck?" His voice was hard again, angry for her. "He sounds like an asshole."

Bee couldn't stop the smile on her face. "Ah, kinda like someone else I know..." she trailed off, smiling at him, coaxing him to smile with her. His face though was drawn and frowning, not enjoying the joke. "He wouldn't let me play on his team. I had to be on the rival baseball team in elementary school, and I had to work hard to prove to my dad I could do it. When I beat his team though, it only made him more angry at me." She shrugged, picking at the cuffs on her jacket.

The reason why she could handle those who hated her or disliked her on the baseball team was because she had to live her entire life trying to prove to her father that girls could play baseball.

Oakland pressed a button on his radio, and then soft music was coming through the speakers, unlike what she assumed he would listen to. She sat up, her mood instantly lifting. "You like Rex Orange County?"

Oakland's eyes cut to hers, and she knew he was surprised. "You listen to him?"

She turned up the song currently playing - Best Friend - and she settled back into her seat, humming the melody. "Yeah. This is my favorite song. He's just so soothing, y'know? I close my eyes and I just picture happier times when I listen to his music."

"Okay, what about Cavetown?"

"Yeah! He has that song about boys and bugs, although I have to admit, I don't know the names of his songs or anything. I'm a casual listener. Okay okay, what about Modern Baseball?"

Oakland grinned, taking off his sunglasses, tucking them in the collar of his shirt. "Bullshit you fucking miss me,"

"There I said it, I guess I'll talk to you in a few months,"

"Sitting drunk on the sidewalk, I guess I'll get up,"

"I guess I'll go for a walk."

He was grinning, and Bee had never seen him grin like he was doing in the driver's seat as they heading to Portland in his truck. He looked genuinely happy, like this was what he liked to do in his spare time.

"I have to admit, I didn't expect this. We have the same taste in music."

She was grinning too, she couldn't help it. But, then she saw the sign for Hadlock Field and she was pressing against the window. "Oh em gee! We're here!"

Oakland pulled them into a parking space once they found the lot, and she immediately grabbed her bag and jumped out, leaving Oakland in the dust. Bee was so excited that her heart was hammering in her chest as she rushed towards the front doors.

Oakland jogged to catch up. "Hey, wait up." He snagged her backpack, slowing her down so he could catch up. "Not so fast, Buzz Lightyear."

She was nearly skipping. "We're here! I can't believe it!" She danced in a circle as they got closer, and then she broke into a sprint towards the large Slugger statue at the front greeting people. She ran up, giving Slugger a fist bump, and then she tipped her head back and whooped! to the sky.

Oakland slid on his sunglasses. "Damn, Buzz. Didn't realize you were so Sea Dogs crazy."

She was bouncing. She definitely looked like she was high on sugar. "I love them! I spend my summers here, no joke." She was smiling so hard, her cheeks were starting to hurt, and then she caught the eyes of two high school boys getting out a car, heading towards them.

She felt Oakland stand close behind her, looking ready to greet them. As soon as they got close enough to exchange pleasantries, they snickered. "So, you're the girl everyone's talking about. Damn, you were right Stu, she's hot."
Bee's open mouth closed before she could get out a hello. Of course, she expected this, but it didn't stop her chest from tightening.

Instead, she forced a smile onto her face. "Wish I could say the same about the two of you, but christ, you put the word baby in baby faced, dontcha?"

She eyed them, not stopping herself from making it obvious she was judging them. "If you're the best on your high school team, I don't think there's much to worry about."

She turned towards Oakland, linking her arm with his. "Let's go inside. I want to see the dugouts up close!"

She felt strange, like she was having an out of body experience. Here she was, linking arms with Oakland Stone, dragging him into Hadlock Field as if he wasn't her enemy. She pictured his grin, wondering how they got there. How he had gotten her to pour out her secrets to him. How he had gotten her to lower her defences.

Just like when we kissed. He wants to ruin you, Bee. The fuck are you doing?

When they got to the field, there were already other students warming up. All were looking at her and Oakland, and she told herself that it didn't have to be because she was a girl. She felt the insecurity, felt it slip down her throat, and she swallowed it back.

She deserved to be here, she told herself. She deserved to play with the Sea Dogs, and she was a good player. Good enough to be part of this boy's club.

She slung down her bag by the dugout and she dropped to the ground, immediately stretching. She watched as Oakland joined her, flopping down beside her, stretching out his long legs. She felt the flutter of something more in her stomach at the sight of him, beside her, lounging like he owned the field. When she made eye contact with him, he gave her a lazy grin.

Two boys from another school sat next to them. The one closest to Bee was cute, with shaggy blonde hair and blue eyes that were smoldering. "Hey, I'm James. I'm from Saco."

Bee wanted to duck her head, but she forced herself to continue looking at him and at the freckles on his face. "I'm Bee."

"Oakland," the sullen boy beside her grunted, and when she turned to look at Oakland, he didn't look happy.

James didn't seem to notice. "Oakland... Oakland Stone! Dude, no way, our team played yours last year and you were insane. You have what, the highest batting average in the state, right?"

James sounded in awe, like he actually idolized Oakland, but the Parkie didn't seem to care. "No, Bee has the highest batting average." He bumped shoulders with Bee, putting his hand on the ground behind her so he was permanently in her space. When she leaned a tiny bit back, she was against his chest.

Her stomach erupted into butterflies as James looked over at her, stunned. "What, really? Damn, that's amazing. I'm sitting next to the two greatest players in this state, and wait, you guys go to the same school? Wow life is unfair." His laugh was genuine.

The boy sitting next to James hadn't said a thing, instead clearly satisfied with just listening to the conversation, but his eyes were watching Bee with interest, enough so that it made her feel uneasy.

"I can't wait to see you on the field. Damn." James was still talking, and his grin was infectious, and Bee was smiling back. "I'm pretty excited to see everyone play, too!"

A man blew his whistle, and he crossed his arms as he stood in front of all the players. "My name is Darren Fenster, the manager of the Sea Dogs team." He gestured to two other men who stood beside him. "This is Paul Abbott, our pitching coach, and this is Lee May Jr., our hitting coach. There are a few others you'll meet, but for today, this is our crew."

Bee couldn't stop her grin; she was so excited that she was nearly bouncing on the grass. She clasped her hands together to keep herself still as Darren Fenster gestured towards the field. "Welcome to Hadlock Field, home of the Portland Sea Dogs. We're very excited to have you all here today! For now, we want to get everyone warmed up, so start by taking four laps around the whole enclosed field, and then grab a partner for throwing."

Bee leapt up with more energy than she thought possible to possess, and then she immediately started to jog. She let herself drift into the middle of the pack, not going fast enough the pull the lead, but not slow enough to trail behind. She forced her pace to match those around her, and she let herself focus.

"So, we're going for middle of the pack?" Oakland's voice was low beside her, and she peeked at him, trying not to look for too long. Something about him today was making her lose her sanity. "I'm trying to feel everyone out. Those who pull ahead in an obnoxious way, those will be the kids to watch for."

She saw Oakland's mouth twist. "Last year, that would've been me."

Bee let out a laugh. "That's still you."

Oakland gave her a light shove, enough to make her stumble, but he gripped her arm to keep her steady. The laugh that left his lips made her knees weak, and she had to blink hard to focus. He wants to destroy you, and he hates you. Although, he was making it harder to hate him back.

After a few minutes, it was painfully obvious who the assholes would be these next few weeks. A handful of boys had taken the clear lead, and not in a I'm a distance runner sort of way. No, these boys were sprinting, showing off, trying to race each other. Bee watched them as they looked back at the pack, smirking in a way that said they thought they were better than everyone else.

Bee made sure she was right in the middle, closer towards the front, but not drawing unnecessary attention to herself. She forced herself to become smaller than those around her, almost trying to hide. The less she disturbed the waters, the less trouble there would be these next few weeks.

When she glanced back over her shoulder, she saw the few stragglers, those who clearly weren't runners, which made sense, considering baseball wasn't a long distance running sort of sport. Cardio was important, but it wasn't a make-it-or-break-it thing, like it was with lacrosse or field hockey.

After the 4 laps, everyone collapsed on the ground near their bags, reaching for water bottles. Bee felt winded, but she was hot now, and she took off her sweatshirt, reaching for her glove at the same time.

She was proud of the jersey she wore, telling everyone just who she was, but when she saw Oakland eyeing it, she blushed. She was aware that she'd put number 24 on the back, which was now technically his number.

When she joined him, he spun her, taking a closer look at her jersey. "Did John make this?" There was a hint of something dark in his voice, probably noticing the number on her back.

"No, I made it." She stuck her chin in the air. "I don't care if you stole my number, 24 will always be mine."

She felt his fingers trace her number, and it sent shivers down her spine. Shivers she wasn't supposed to have. "About the number, I'm sorry. I want to trade with you."

She spun, looking him in the eyes, not hiding her shock. "Wait, really?"

"Yeah, really."

She opened her mouth to say thank you, and then she realized, thank you for what? For stealing it in the first place to make me feel bad? So instead, she nodded. "I'll bring yours to practice on Monday."

He stood only a few feet from her, but his throw was hard, like always. It forced her to focus on her throw, on her aim. For a moment, it was just the two of them, practicing like they always did, but then the boys beside her started snickering.

"You a tranny or somethin'?" Their was dark humor in their voices, and it made the hair on the back of Bee's neck stand on end.

"No. And what the hell, that's rude. First, calling anyone 'tranny' is disrespectful, and second, insinuating that trans people disgust you is horrid."

She threw the ball towards Oakland with a little too much power, but she couldn't stop the anger that she felt. People were so dense sometimes.

"Ooo, the girl thinks we're horrid," they laughed. "We all know why you're here. It's because everyone feels bad for you."

It was a major hit to her self esteem. She wilted a little, expecting this, but hating how it affected her. Instead of falling into their trap, she threw back the ball to Oakland and then looked at them sideways. "Then you'll have no problem beating me, I guess." She faked a shrug.

The boys just laughed. "Too bad your whole school is gonna suffer because one girl thinks she deserves to be on a boy team. Feminazi."

She stiffened, but didn't say anything else. She wouldn't fall into their trap, she refused to. She knew what they wanted: they wanted her to get mad, to defend feminism, to spit at them so they could tell their friends about the crazy feminist in their baseball competition.

Feminist or not, she wasn't going to respond.

Oakland just laughed. "If you think she didn't earn her spot on the team, you're a fucking idiot. Can't wait to see you eat your words."

There was a silence between them, but it was tense, and Bee was off. She could tell her throws weren't spot on anymore. "Oakland, dude, are you banging this chick? We were cool last summer during travel season."

Oakland paused, turning towards them with a glint in his eye. "We were cool because you stayed in your lane. Continue doing so, and we won't have a problem."

The boys didn't say a thing after that, but even so, Bee was still off. Enough so that when she stood a few yards away from Oakland, her aim was way off. Oakland caught it every time, but it wasn't fluid and easy. She wasn't on her A game, and others were noticing.

After warmups, Oakland gripped her upper arm tight and yanked her towards their bags. "What the fuck is wrong with you right now?"

She shook him off. "Nothing."
"You're going to screw this up for all of us," he hissed, angry. "This is why I wanted a guy to come with me to this. Because a guy wouldn't get so emotional."
She turned to glare at him, hating how he had switched sides again. One moment, he was defending her. The next moment, he was telling her she was dirt beneath his shoe. "Leave it be, Oakland."

His grip tightened. "You need to get it together. If they see you're weak, it'll be a long season. Stop acting like this. Prove them wrong, like you did with me."

She glared at him, but she knew he was right. She was letting her team down. She sat by her bag with the rest of the players, her arms crossed against her chest tightly as Darren Fenster stood in from of them, clapping his hands.

"This is how it'll work. You will be working with us for about 8 weeks. At the end of the 8 weeks, it will be decided which high school will be playing with us for a game. Some of your high school teammates might play with us for the summer, who knows. You will prove yourself by playing in scrimmages, showing off your talents, and being a team sport."

He sanded his hands together and grinned. "Who's ready to play ball?"