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Catch, stand, step, throw, and squat. Give signal, catch, stand, step, throw, and squat. Give different signal, catch, stand step, throw, and squat. I sighed internally as my fingers moved on their own accord to give the next signal to Finn. Catch, stand, step throw, and squat. For almost an hour we have been practicing on the school field in the boiling heat, not like it going to help, we will still suck. Finn started his windup again, avoiding eye contact with me at all costs. Things have been quiet between Finn and me since Rachel cast the big secret out before sectionals; Finn and I had sort of an unspoken mutual agreement to just avoid each other. Of course it didn't help that we were our baseball team's only hope of winning a game. With Finn's wicked arm at the mound and my badassness behind the plate, we at least had a shot.
Too bad the rest of our team couldn't play to save their damn lives.
"Alright, Hudson, that's good. Puckerman, I want you to now fake to second, but throw to Pronk at short. Got it?" Coach hollered from the sidelines. I nodded once, glaring at the small blond haired boy in between second and third base. Johnny Pronk was a little rat of boy who was only on the team because his daddy was the main sponsor. He couldn't catch the fucking ball even if I was right in front of him and my pinkie toe had more strength the he did. I hated Johnny Pronk. I hated him more than I hated the fact that no team I join can win a game. Well, except for glee...
Still glaring at the little shit, I went back down into my position as Finn restarted his windup for what seemed to be the hundredth time. And for what seemed to be the hundredth time, the ball whizzed towards my face, my glove darting out at the last second to make the catch. I stood quickly, aiming for short while I sold the fake to second. My arm whipped out, shooting the ball straight to Pronk's unready glove. He watched the ball fly closer to his body, but made no move to catch it. Then, just before the ball made contact with any part of him. He did something that was sure to make us the laughing stalks of the entire school.
He ducked. He fucking ducked and let the ball soar right over top of him.
"What the hell, Pronk!" I stood as I yelled at him, taking off my mask so he could get the full effect of my rage. I wasn't the only one yelling at him but I was certainly the loudest. "You don't just duck like a little princess! You use your damn glove and catch the damn ball! What the hell is wrong with you?!"
"Shut up, Puckerman, I wasn't ready!"
Wasn't ready? Jesus, we were never going to win. I exhaled heavily and searched for the ball. It was way at the other end of the field, just laying there all by its lonesome. Damn, I got a good arm. The only person near the ball was someone I recognized instantly. Wearing an oversized purple sweater that was most definitely bought in the girls section was Hummel.
"Hey, Kurt," Finn yelled. Hummel turned around at the call of his name, the hopeful expression on his face earning many snickers from the surrounding field. I groaned again at how oblivious Finn was. Couldn't he tell the little prom queen had a crush on him? "Wanna throw the ball back?"
Hummel looked around for the ball, and then walked, no, pranced, over and picked up the tiny ball. Insults cascaded towards him from every position on the field.
"Move in!"
"Uh oh, fag got the ball!"
"Don't hurt yourself."
"Why don't you just fly it over you fucking faerie."
Even at the other end of the field I could see how Hummel's expression turned from 'holier-than-thou' to a glare as the insults flew out of my team mates' mouths. I know I have thrown the little fruity countertenor (as he has so constantly reminded us) into dumpsters on countless occasions, but that fruity countertenor was on my team, and no one messes with my team mates. I just happened to be an exception to that rule.
I glared at the teens around the diamond, "Just throw the ball, Hu- Kurt." I yelled at him.
Hummel's glare moved to me for a second before he brought his arm back and prepared to throw the ball. I took a step forward, expecting to have to run up to get the ball. There is no way Kurt could throw that far. Hell, Finn probably couldn't even throw that far. Cruel laughter and insults continued from all around me, but every single one was cut off as soon as Kurt threw the ball.
Holy shit.
The ball came of his tiny grip and was in my glove in less than two seconds. A perfect throw, right to my chest. I didn't even have to move. Across the park, Kurt nodded to himself, crossed his arms, and then continued to strut to his car, fixing his hair as he walked. For the first time in a month, Finn turned and stared right at me. I'm sure that the disbelief painted so plainly on Finn's face mirrored my exactly. The entire team was dead silent, all of them turned to watch Kurt walk away. I looked from Finn's eyes to my glove, taking my hand out of the leather and staring at the large red blotch forming on my bare palm where the ball had hit.
"Hey, kid! Wait!" Our coach yelled from the sidelines, almost jumping out the dugout to get to Kurt before he could drive away. Kurt stopped his runway walk and turned to see our coach run towards him. We all watched our coach, a fat old man, run towards Kurt like he was racing to the ice cream store before it closed. The only thing moving were our jerseys blowing slightly in the small breeze that had picked up. No one could believe what they had just seen. No one could believe that Hummel, Kurt Hummel, could throw a ball like that. Our coach talked to Kurt for a few seconds before he turned around and started walking back, Kurt not far behind.
"Pronk, get off the field now!" Coach yelled. "And give your glove to Kurt."
Shit. Not good. Johnny gave Coach a dirty look before taking off his glove, throwing it down at short, and then striding off the field and sitting the dugout, where he belonged. Kurt picked up the glove with one hand and examined it with a critical eye. I snorted and laughed to myself. Kurt was probably thinking about giving the glove a makeover. He was such a girl. A girl with a strangely strong arm and no boobs.
"Alright, Kurt, Puck is going to throw you the ball, and you are going to catch it, and throw it back as fast as you can. Puck, Hudson, same drill as before, let's go!"
I put my mask back on at the same time Kurt put on the glove. Finn started his windup. The team was still quiet, watching our every move. Finn released the ball, a perfect pitch; I caught and threw the ball to Kurt.
Everything seemed to move in slow-motion as I watched. The ball flew from my hand right to Kurt's glove. I saw Kurt move his hand to catch the ball in the oversized glove and then throw it straight back at me with incredible speed and force. I caught the ball and stared, dumbstruck, at Kurt. Standing in the entrance of the dugout, our coach was smiling as big as the creepy cat from that movie my sister likes to watch...Someone in somewhere land or something.
I vividly remember my history teacher telling us that we are 'Doomed to repeat history!' which is true; I had to take History again when I failed it. But other than that, I had no reason to believe that Hitler was just going to pop up again and start another war. I don't believe in history repeating itself, well, I didn't, until now.
"Pronk, I want you to give your jersey to Kurt until we can get him his own." Coach yelled at Johnny. Kurt smiled a big, gay smile while everyone else was still frozen with shock. Only two words came to mind as coach walked over and handed Kurt Johnny's jersey, with a big "Welcome to the team!" Only two words that had also appeared in my head when Kurt tried out for the football team and I knew that he was going to win us our first game.
Well fuck.
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