Four practices a week. Really? This was getting insane. Dean had enough on his mind with the giant math test tomorrow, and the last thing he needed tonight was a two-and-a-half hour baseball practice. He entertained the thought of just staying home and making up some excuse. He could always go with the randomly-sick excuse, but he was already famous for using that one for skipping first class. He could say there was a family emergency, but since the team captain was close with his family, that was unlikely to work, either. Eventually he found himself trudging toward Lawrence Hills High School at 6:00 p.m., trying to ignore the chill in the air. A shadow was casted over the entire baseball field, but light shone from the direction of the shabby locker room. His arms began to sting from the cold wind, and he wished he had brought a jacket. He quickly made his way to the locker room to change into his warmer brown-and-white winter baseball uniform.
"Hey, what took you so long, Dean?" questioned Tyler, Dean's "friend" and captain of the team. He was a good five inches shorter than Dean, but that didn't make him any less intimidating to anyone.
Dean returned his condemning gaze with a quizzical one. "Practice starts at 6, doesn't it?"
Of course, with the tournament right around the corner, he was even more stuck-up than usual. "Well, yes, but it's 6:05 right now, and I thought I made it clear enough that everyone should arrive a few minutes early," he said with one of his grins that mismatched his glare.
"Right. Yeah. Let's get to it, then."
He hurriedly changed into his uniform (getting his arm somehow stuck in the process), grabbed his bat, and jogged outside to meet the others.
"Now that we're all here, Winston, you go and turn on those lights," Tyler commanded, throwing a nod toward the lights that hung over the field.
As more people were sent to fetch different things or go someplace, several members of the team had become distracted by something in the field. They kept peeking over their shoulders and furrowing their eyebrows until at last Tyler took notice and demanded to know what was oh-so-important in the field that they couldn't pay attention.
The loud one of the team, Brandon, replied almost before he finished asking the question. "I think there's someone in the field over there. I wonder who it is. Maybe they fell asleep. Ooh, or maybe they got knocked out and are still unconscious. Or what if it's a dead b-"
"Okay, that's quite enough speculation, thank you. Dean, why don't you go check out who or what it is, and tell them to get out of here. We've had this spot reserved for weeks."
Dean felt the last comment a bit unnecessary, but agreed to go anyway. He was clearly on Tyler's bad side already, and plus, he was a bit curious.
As he strode closer to the figure across the field, it became increasingly obvious that it was a fellow student. Completely awake, apparently. He was lying in a patch of grass, fingers stroking a dandelion, blue eyes staring upwards.
A bit weird, but alright. "Hey," Dean called out, prodding his side gently with his shoe. The boy jerked up, evidently startled, and his blue eyes fixed on Dean with such intensity that Dean was startled, as well. "You're, ah, on the baseball field. We're having practice, so…"
The boy blinked slowly and ruffled his unkempt dark hair. "Right. I understand." He placed his hands on the ground and pushed himself up, then grabbed his bag and stood facing Dean. "I'll leave now, then."
Dean was unsure of how to respond and eventually decided on mumbling a "Yeah…" but by that time, the boy was already walking away. Grass was still sticking to the back of his trenchcoat. The sight nearly brought out a chuckle from Dean, but instead he turned away and walked back to his team.
"So what was that about?" one of the younger boys asked him. Dean shrugged his shoulders in response.
A tall, muscular boy named Andrew answered for him. "Castiel, probably. He's always doing weird stuff like hanging around in fields. Kinda creepy, if you ask me. Best to just ignore him. I hear he's a sociopath, and he moved here this year because he went on a rage at his old school and hurt a bunch of people. Got some weird shit down under those creepy eyes of his, I'm tellin' you."
"Alright, alright, enough gossiping, girls," Tyler interjected. "Tournament's next week, and we're not near ready. Get to your positions."
Dean, a bit confused, wandered to his place at home base and raised his bat. He bit his lip as he watched the pitcher take his place. The kid was weird, he'd admit that. But sociopathic? He pondered it for a moment while the pitcher took out a ball and threw a fastball at him.
Idoubtit, Dean thought as he met the ball with a satisfying clink.
But for some reason he couldn't get those blue eyes out of his mind for the rest of the night.