"You're joking, right?" Hawley asked, as they and Reynolds sat on the bleachers during practice.
"I wish I was, be funnier," Reynolds replied, "but no, that's the name they've given the team. The Mourners. Just...downright creepy, if you ask me. It's not enough we're already sponsored by a funeral home but now they want us to straight up advertise that? Gimme a break." "We sound like a sixties rock group," Hawley said, making Reynolds laugh unexpectedly. "Well," he finally said after regaining his composure, "if you and the team can come up with something better, I'd be more than happy to run it by the principal and see if we can lobby to get it changed. Almost anything would be better than what we have." "You never played little league?" Hawley asked, swinging their legs off the bleachers. "Nah, I was a hockey kid actually, if anything," Reynolds said, "I didn't play much, but sometimes my cousin would take me to play at the local skate rink and that was a lot of fun, honestly. You'd think a man of my stature, my generation even, would be more the type to do outdoors things, and I do like being outdoors, I just don't like competing physically." "My dad made me join, I don't even wanna be here," Hawley said quietly. "Well then, you and I have a lot in common, cause I don't wanna be here either," Reynolds said as he patted their back, "Here's to being somewhere you don't wanna be." Hawley smiled. They might be stuck there, but at least they had good company. *** "How about 'The Ditchdiggers'?" Jesse asked. "Why are we sticking to the grave themes?" Hawley asked, making Jesse shrug. The group was sitting around in the small storage shed the school used for equipment. It was Hawley, Jesse, Brian, David and Peyton. Not the entire team, but the kids Hawley felt comfortable enough talking to, so they had invited them to try and come up with a new name for the team. "Actually, I think it's a clause in the contract to stick with grave theming," Peyton said, "So let's try and come up with something that doesn't sound like a country rock duo. How about...The Headstones? Something very basic that doesn't automatically scream graveyard association." "That isn't bad..." Hawley said, "but it's also kinda bland." Just then the door opened and Reynolds stumbled in, carrying a load of equipment in his hands, Janice Gorey, the janitor, right behind him, helping him carry in another load. As they dumped them down into a large metal bucket, Reynolds wiped his hands on his pants and looked at the group. "So? We come to a consensus?" he asked. "About?" Gorey asked. "We're trying to rename the team," Hawley said, looking at her, "We don't like the name The Mourners. We wanna keep it somewhat grave themed, but...it's really hard to come up with something that doesn't sound...stupid." "Well," Gorey said, turning a large plastic basket upside down and sitting on it, sipping her drink pouch, "how about something like the Crampton Coffins? A lot of baseball teams take part of their name from the area they're based in, after all. That would be a good idea, right?" "That's not a terrible idea," Reynolds said, leaning against the wall, his arms folded, "which is odd considering who it came from." "I'm full of 'em!" Gorey said happily, making him chuckle. "I think we decided we want something that doesn't sound too graveyard themed," Hawley said, "Something that is still adhering to the grave theme, but is also vague enough to be a bit removed from it, you know?" "Coming up with names is hard," Reynolds said, "Back when I was starting work on Go For Broke we must've tried a dozen or so titles before finding the one that stuck. It's really tough to come up with something catchy, yet not overly lame, that also makes sense but isn't too on the nose. It's a real skill that I just don't have, and, according to what I've heard today, neither do any of you. Let's break for today and convene tomorrow, see if a good nights sleep gets us anything fresh, alright?" The group got their things together and each went their separate ways, until it was just Gorey and Reynolds alone in the equipment shed. She sat and watched as Reynolds continued to put things away. After a few minutes he turned his head, glancing back at her over his shoulder. "Feel free to help," he said. "Naw, you got things covered," she said, giggling, "do you have any name suggestions?" Reynolds stood back up and turned to face her, putting his hands on his hips and exhaling. "Ya know, I try not to get too attached to wherever I happen to be at any given moment in time, because in my experience, I never stick around too long, so call me detached but I just...I don't really have any reason to try and come up with a name. The more invested and involved I become, the more it'll likely hurt when my time here comes to an end." Gorey didn't respond. She just nodded solemnly and continued sipping her juice pouch, until she sighed. "I would love to leave," she finally said, "...you're lucky if you manage to get out of here. If you get to go back to the city. I'm gonna be here my whole life." "Well," Reynolds said, putting a hand on her shoulder, "how about the day I leave, I give you a lift? Drop you off somewhere? But you gotta have a gameplan for after that, cause I ain't gonna be responsible for your wellbeing." Gorey smiled a little and nodded. "Sounds like a plan," she said. *** The house was quiet when Hawley got home, which was surprising, because their fathers car was in the driveway. Could he be asleep? Edward Hawley usually worked until late in the evenings, but today it seemed like he was already home. Hawley continued quietly into the kitchen and fixed themselves a sandwich, poured themselves a glass of soda and then tiptoed down the hall towards their bedroom. As they pushed their bedroom door open with their backpack, then turned around to enter, they found themselves face to face with their father, sitting on their bed. "D...dad?" they asked. "Where were you?" Ed asked. "I had to stay after practice a little so we could come up with a new name for the team," Hawley said, "I'm sorry." "Oh, well, that's okay, at least it was time well spent," Ed said, "I was hoping to catch you before I leave for my night shift, cause I was wondering if you knew where some of your mothers things are. She called to say she's missing a few things, and can't find them. I'm not accusing you of anything, I'm just curious." "N...no? I don't know. Maybe they were left in a hamper or something? Or she just is bad at remembering what she owned and what she didn't. She was never that good at keeping track of her stuff," Hawley said, making Ed laugh a little, which eased Hawley's fear. "Yeah, you're not wrong," he said, standing up and ruffling Hawley's hair as he walked past; as he reached the door, he turned back and asked, "...do you want a haircut? It's really long. You look like a girl." "Naw, it's okay," Hawley said, "I like it." "Alright, your hair I guess," Ed said, "I'll be back around midnight." With that, Ed shut the door behind him as he left. Hawley sat down on the bed, sandwich plate on their lap as they set the soda glass on the bedside table. They eyed the closet suspiciously and felt the terror start to leave their body. They had to find a new hiding place, because if Ed had found the dress and the other few things they had in there, there'd be hell to pay. After they ate they would find a new hiding place. Somewhere safe but not dirty, as they didn't want the dress to get gross. They knew their father had said that thing about their hair to make them feel awkward, but if anything, it made Hawley feel better. They loved their hair, they loved looking like a girl. Ed didn't know any of this, and even if he suspected if, he didn't let on that he did. Hawley kept it all to themselves, because they knew Ed would hurt them if they ever did anything outright. After eating, they changed into the dress, did their homework and afterwards played video games. They had until midnight to find a new hiding place. Until then, they wanted to feel like themselves. *** Reynolds was walking down the hall the following afternoon, heading out to the field, when he heard the sound of a cart being pushed up beside him. He looked to his side and saw Gorey pushing her cleaning cart, head headphones dangling around her neck. She reached up and shoved some of the stay hairs out of her eyes and sighed. "So I came up with more names if you're interested," she said, "I have nothing to do at night, so." "Gee, how is that not shocking," Reynolds replied. "How about something like The Wormfood?" "They're not a punk band from the 90s, they're a group of kids playing baseball," Reynolds said, "besides, you're not on the team, so you have no reason to be wasting your time on this." "What if I was on the team?" Gorey asked, stopping Reynolds, who now looked at her somewhat surprised. "What?" he asked with a grin. "What if I was on the team?" she repeated, shrugging, "like...make me an assistant or something. Anything to get me off cleaning duty. Not that I mind cleaning, but, it'd be nice to do something different for a change. Something others actually appreciate." "I...I'd have to ask the principal, I can't just bring someone else onto the team without warning," Reynolds said, "But I could definitely look into it, sure." Just then Victoria approached them, looked between the two, and Gorey went along her way. Victoria and Reynolds continued walking down the hall. "Is she bothering you?" Victoria asked. "Nah, she's fine, she's kinda fun to have around," Reynolds said, "Why? Has she bothered other people?" "Janice is...a pity hire," Victoria said, "to put it politely. We only keep her on because her mother used to be on the school board, and she's not really capable of doing much else by herself. She still lives at home, and she isn't really suited for the real world." "I find that hard to believe, she seems pretty with it," Reynolds said, pulling a small apple from his coat pocket and biting into it. "She's not stupid, John. She's just...I don't know how to put it. She's got a real arrested development thing going on. But she's courteous and quiet and does a good job, so we keep her on as the janitor. She's a very nice girl, albeit a bit weird, and I'm good friends with her mother, so. Anyway, there was something I wanted to ask you...if only I can remember what it was now...oh! The woman who sponsored the team would like to meet with you next week, if you're available." "I don't know why I wouldn't be. It's not like I have any kind of life outside of this," Reynolds remarked, "What time and where?" "Her place, sometime in the late afternoon," Victoria said, handing him a slip of paper, "that's her address and some basic information on her, just so you don't go in unprepared." "Thanks," he said, stuffing it into his pants pocket, "I'll keep that in mind." Victoria broke off to go about her duties, as Reynolds headed outside. He spotted Hawley sitting at the bleachers, writing in a notebook. Reynolds seated himself down beside them, as the other kids practiced in the field. Reynolds slightly titled his head, angling his eyesight towards the paper Hawley was writing on, but after a moment Hawley groaned and slammed the notebook shut. "I can't come up with anything!" they whined. "Hey, don't think about it too much," Reynolds said, "If you focus on it too much, you'll never come up with anything. You gotta let it come to you, alright?" "I'm glad our team is sponsored by a funeral home," Hawley said, "I certainly feel dead inside." Reynolds cracked up and slapped his leg as Hawley smirked a little, happy to have an adult actually find them entertaining. "Well," Reynolds said, "I have a meeting with the woman who sponsored it next week, so I'll be sure to tell her that. I'm sure she'll be glad to hear the positive impact she's having on a young persons mental health." "I'm just sad, like, all the time-" "Welcome to puberty." "-and I don't like it at school and I don't like it at home, and a lot of times it feels like I just wanna be six feet under," Hawley said, finishing and resting their head on their fists, their elbows posted up on their knees. After a moment their eyes widened and they looked at Reynolds, who also had a look of realization, and he snapped his fingers as they pointed at one another. "That's it!" they said in unison. *** When the box for the uniforms finally came a few days later, Reynolds was eager. In fact, it was the first time in ages that he'd felt eager about anything. He picked it up at the front office of the school and then took it back to his office. When he entered, he found Gorey inside, emptying his trashcan. She walked around him, beginning to head out, as he plopped the box on his desk. "What's that?" she asked. "The new uniforms! Hawley and I came up with a name, and they just arrived," Reynolds said, "Got a pair of scissors or something? I don't have any supplies in here just yet." Gorey reached to her toolbelt and pulled off a switchblade, then handed it to Reynolds. He took it, somewhat surprised, then opened it and started cutting the box tops open. He reached inside and pulled out a shirt, and held it out, grinning. The name emblazoned across the front and back read, in a nice yet somewhat eerie font, "The Sixxers". "The Sixxers?" Gorey asked. "Like being six feet under," Reynolds said, "You know? Like being buried?" "Oooh, yeah, that's pretty good. It really does hit the middle of the road of being vague but still related," she said, putting her hands back on the cart and starting to head towards the door, "Well, I got other trashcans to empty. I'll see you around." "Don't forget this," Reynolds said, handing her her knife, which she graciously took. As she opened the door, she heard him speak again; "and this!" he added. She turned back around, only to see him tossing her a uniform too. She looked at in confusion and then looked back at Reynolds. "...you got me one?" she asked. "Yeah," he said, "I realized that I'm gonna need some help, and you're pretty pathetic, so I feel good boosting my ego helping you out." "Oh, bless you, you're such a good person," Gorey said sarcastically, before thanking him then heading out the door. After the door to his office was shut, she leaned against it and hugged the jersey to her chest and squealed quietly, so very happy to be a part of something. Back in the office, Reynolds put his feet up on his desk and leaned back in his chair, grinning to himself. Maybe he was really suited for this job after all. He was certainly having more fun than he'd expected to have. Who knew that, in the end, what his father had once told him was true after all? Sports really are a good tool for learning to work with others. A skillset it turned out Reynolds needed badly.
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GRAVE INNINGS is about A funeral home that has sponsored a local little league, the coach who is a disgraced reality show host, a young transgirl and the odd family they create for one another. Archives
May 2024
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