Kyler Doss - The Right Summer

The Right Summer Kyler Doss Publisher Kyler Doss USA THE RIGHT SUMMER Copyright 2022 Kyler Doss All rights reserved 2022 publication ISBN 978-1-938181-41-2 Cover r3 design Young Adult Fiction Main character male Coming of age Middle Grade category For a center fielder

T HEY ALWAYS tell us , "Gimme 90." It means run hard to first base. You never know when an infielder might have trouble getting the ball out of his glove. Or something else could go wrong. But this isn't really a baseball story. We have just played our last game of the season, so everybody is standing around saying goodbye. The weather is nice.

I'm a 14-year-old boy in the summer before I start my freshman year. I don't know if I'm looking forward to that or not. Anyway, I have just played another year at first base. I feel aimless, like there's nowhere to go and I'll get there when I get there. I pick up my glove and make sure I've got my hat on before I step out of the dugout. When I do, our center fielder comes up to me.

He's not someone I talk to a lot. For one thing, he's 15. Also, outfielders and infielders don't always have that much to talk about. "Hey," he says, "I'm not gonna see you again." He's got his trademark smile. I have liked him from the first day of practice but never made friends with him. "What are you doing?" he says. "What are you doing?" he says.

I don't know what he means. He slaps my shoulder. "Let's go somewhere." This is so weird. I picture us going somewhere. Then I realize that probably everybody is going there. So his words are not exactly what they sound like.

It lets me relax a little. "Sure," I say. "Where to?" "Burgers and fries?" "Great." We start walking in the direction of this one place that players on the team have gone to before. I've been there once or twice this season with other infielders. I look around the field to see where they are but maybe they have already left. I didn't think I took that long getting my mitt in the dugout.

Maybe I did. When we get to the sidewalk, I look around some more. Everybody's gone. I don't see anybody up ahead of us. They have already gotten to the restaurant, I guess. I walk in with Lewis.

Somebody will call us over. So far, nobody has seen us. "I know what you want," Lewis says, and gets in line to place an order. That leaves me to look around for the team. It's pretty crowded, so it isn't that easy to see who's here. But I don't think they are, because they would be wearing uniforms and kind of easy to spot in a crowd.

Lewis is back with a receipt in his hand. He waves it. "We got number 99." "Cool." I don't know what I'm saying. Lewis points across the room. "There's a place." He takes me over to a small table. I'm starting to feel like I don't know what's going on.

I am not going to say anything until we get our order. And I'm not going to say anything then either. "I'm hungry," Lewis says. "Me too." "How come I didn't go out with you before?" "I don't know." He takes the receipt off the table. "It should almost be ready." That gives me time to think. He keeps saying things that can't mean what I want them to mean.

I'd like to ask him some questions when he comes back but there's no way. I can't ask him if he likes me. I don't know how much time has gone by but he's back with a lot of food. It looks good. "There's a cheeseburger in there," he says. "Sandy," he says, "I don't know that much about you." He knows I like cheeseburgers. "Sandy," he says, "I don't know that much about you." He knows I like cheeseburgers.

Maybe it would be funny if I said that. "You know I like cheeseburgers." "You're funny." He puts a handful of fries back in the bag. "I'm being serious." My heart pounds because I can't see where this is going. I know where I want it to go. I don't want to be wrong about this, so I keep quiet. "Yeah, we are." "Boyfriends." It really is what I wanted. "Yeah, we are." "Boyfriends." It really is what I wanted.

And I still don't know what to say until I say it. "Alright." He gets those fries again and eats them. He takes a bite out of his hamburger. Then he just moves his head up and down, his eyes locked on mine. "Do you know what I'm talking about?" he says. "Yeah." "Cool." I start eating my stuff.

It's really good. He got us two burgers apiece, plus a lot of fries. This is fun, being on a date with my boyfriend. That's something I could say if I could phrase it right. "I like this," I say. "Same here." It didn't really take that many words for us to become boyfriends. "I can't believe the season is over," I say. "I know what you mean." We go back to work on our meal. "I know what you mean." We go back to work on our meal.

It's easy to be with him. Not only do I like him but I don't have to hide it anymore if I don't want to. I wonder if he knew all along. Each one of us folds up a burger wrapper that we're done with. I like where this is going. I haven't been there before but I know I'm gonna like it.

He points at the food. "This is pretty good." I think what he really means is us. That's how I feel, too. I feel really lucky that he said something to me at the end of the game. If not, I would just be walking home and he's one of the things that would be on my mind, how much I like him. "I like it," I say. "Do you like trains?" It's not far from here where the bridge crosses over the railroad tracks. "Of course," I say. "First I wanna take you to center field." I like the idea. "First I wanna take you to center field." I like the idea.

It's a nice ballfield. "I never get out there," I say. We have eaten up everything in sight. "First basemen," he says, "they don't belong there." We get down to field level and I cross the chalk line like I do, which is not to touch it. "Oh," he says, "I've seen you do that." "It's a superstition." "It's cute." We are more or less straddling the first base line. I don't think we're gonna make it to center field.

Lewis puts both arms around me. I wrap him up, too. Everything we want to say, it's like we are saying it without words. I like holding him. I like him holding me. This is so strange and so good.

He walks me back across the line. "Don't step on it," he says. We're in foul territory again. "When I left the dugout," I say, "I was going home." "I was watching you." This is great. We have sort of been boyfriends for a while without knowing it. "The railroad bridge?" I say. "I like trains but I don't like bridges." He takes us that direction anyhow. "I can hold you," I say. "Alright." I hold him around the waist until we are halfway across, where we come to a stop. "Those trains," he says, "they cross the country." "Any passenger cars down there?" "No." I take him the rest of the way across. "Those trains," he says, "they cross the country." "Any passenger cars down there?" "No." I take him the rest of the way across.

I don't want to let go when we get there. I'm not sure what to do, so I don't do anything. He kisses me on the cheek, then looks away. "I wanna see you tomorrow," he says. I kiss him on the cheek. "Walk me home." "Okay." I recognize some of the people in his family. "You know Sandy," he says. "First base." They know me. "Are you boys hungry?" his mother says. "We had burgers." It's like I'm a part of things and I never knew it. "We had burgers." It's like I'm a part of things and I never knew it.

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