This last week has been nuts, geez. Have a chapter!
Guest: In response to you're review, no I do not play softball. But don't you worry, I want to make this as accurate as possible, so I'm working on researching everything I plan on writing about regarding it! I know how annoying it is to see your sport butchered, so I know how you feel; I play volleyball and everyone thinks they can play it but only 1% of those people actually can or know anything about it. I don't plan on focussing too much on the softball (like describing the games play by play because I've found that doing that gets old real fast) but rather more on what happens because of it. However I'm combining the basic knowledge that I have on baseball and softball and the things I'm researching so I think I'll do okay. In regards to the tryouts thing, I just did it as a phone call because thats how they do tryouts at my high school, so if it was weird, blame my school. If I make any glaring mistakes, don't hesitate to tell me and I'll fix it for you! Anyway, I really appreciate your review, I'll be extra careful!
The first day of practice wasn't too difficult, there were a lot of base running drills and general work out drills to get the players back into playing shape. Coach Gomez had the assistant coach Larry running no-flinching drills with the catchers as well and Lucas found that he would blink a lot more when catching than he used to.
Though he was the only Sophomore on the team, the older boy's had seen his games from the year prior and respected him well enough though they weren't particularly friendly seeing as they had already made close bonds with each other. But that was okay. It was baseball, it didn't matter how he liked the team, it didn't matter how sore he was, Lucas was happy.
He walked down the hallway until he reached the door of the history room. Lucas' baseball practice ended at the same time as Maya's softball while Farkle's debate team meeting and Riley's cheerleading practice both ended a little while after and the four were going to meet Zay at Topanga's. So he sat down on the median by the soda machine and pulled out his Chemistry textbook. He opened it to the page where he had carelessly shoved his worksheet and pencil and began scanning the book for the bolded word he was searching for the definition of. After a few minutes of reading a riveting section on chemical reactions of metals and writing the definitions of atomic mass and atomic number messily on his paper, the tanned boy sighed heavily, taking off his baseball cap and running a hand through his disorderly hair. He was about to pull his phone out of his bag so that he could distract himself with a game, but right then a new distraction appeared right next to him, accidentally whipping him in the face with a wavy blonde ponytail as she turned to set her drawstring bag down.
"Well, hello to you too, Maya. Or should I say Maya's hair," the former Texan mumbled in amusement, blinking rapidly to dispel the feeling of hair in his eyes. She turned to look at him in confusion until comprehension wiped across her face with an amused grin.
"Pardon my hair, cowboy, it was just passing through," she said as she imitated his imaginary hat tip in his direction. Lucas snorted in amusement.
"You know, some people just say 'sorry', including me. Come on Maya, I've been in New York for four years and I barely even have a Texan accent anymore. Heck, I didn't even have much of one to begin with," he said with mock exasperation.
"Well making fun of you for something stupid sounds like a lot more fun that not making fun of you at all. So, until the game gets boring, you shall be a Huckleberry." A deep chuckle escaped his throat and he closed the book on his lap.
"Yeah yeah. So how was your very first day of softball?" The smile that appeared on her face was genuine, Lucas thought at least. He was glad he was part of the reason that smile was there.
"It was fun! The girls are all really nice and we did a lot of team bonding today. I found out that Meg is a spray paint artist so we were talking about collaborating or something sometime. We mainly worked on basic stuff."
"What kind of basic stuff?"
"Well, coach says that I have a good arm, but my technique isn't great. We took one of those… the speed gun thingies… You know?" She slapped his shoulder with the back of her hand as she tried to find the word. He chuckled.
"You mean a radar gun?" he said in a mock patronizing voice for which she shot a short glare at him for.
"Yeah, that. Anyway, when I'm throwing normally, I get up to fifty-five miles per hour and she says that with the proper technique we can bring that up to sixty by the end of the year," she said, animatedly moving her hands through the air as she spoke. Lucas nodded his head, obviously impressed.
"Wow, thats pretty good! You sure you've never played softball before?" Maya shook her head, her hair bouncing in it's ponytail.
"Not on an actual team, no. I always figured that the only thing I'd ever be good at was art, but, I guess I can add softball to that list of one, right?" She laughed lightly, but Lucas shook his head.
"You're great at a lot of things, Maya, don't sell yourself short!" He almost made a joke about her height but thought better of it when she scoffed incredulously.
"Yeah, Huckleberry? Like what?" He held up an his index and middle finger.
"Well, so there's art and softball, we've established those. But you're also good at reading people, and making people laugh, and getting people to listen to you." As each finger raised for each thing he listed, Maya's cheeks gained a tint of pink.
"Oh, and you're an amazing singer." She opened her mouth to argue but he put his hand out to stop her.
"Don't try to deny it, I heard you last week in the art room." She shut her mouth quickly and averted her eyes, her cheeks a bright shade of pink while he nodded, smiling because he knew he'd beaten her this time.
"Uh-huh. You didn't think anyone had heard you, but I did. You're singing voice is amazing, Maya. And thats not even everything you're good at! You're good at making people feel good about themselves and you're good at helping people feel comfortable. I don't even know how you make people feel comfortable but it works somehow even though you're insulting them and stuff, but it just does," he said with such conviction that she actually believed him. Lucas realized that that last one basically only applied to him because she didn't really insult anyone else except him, but he was on a roll and he intended to keep on with it.
"And you're the best friend anyone could ask for. You've got Riley's back no matter what, you'd protect Farkle from anything or anyone and me… well you're always here for me when I need it. I think about all those people out there who don't have a Maya Hart in their life and think that we're pretty lucky to have one because those people's lives must suck." She laughed with embarrassment and he couldn't help but join in.
"Well, if you think about it, those people back in Austin must be in pretty bad shape because they knew what life was like when they had a Lucas Friar and then had to live without him," the blonde said softly. He smiled down at her. They really were lucky here at John Quincy Adams High. She managed to look up at him and meet his gaze.
"It really does mean a lot, Lucas. Thank you." Their stare was charged, and Lucas could feel the awkwardness of staring for too long set in, but he couldn't make himself look away. Maya was having a similar problem and her face was bright red. Red. Red for stop. Red for no. She suddenly looked away, making sure to direct her eyes anywhere except for near his face. She coughed and on the other side of her she could hear him shuffling when he realized how close they had gotten to each other.
"I uh… yeah. No problem… buddy…" he managed to mumble awkwardly. She lifted her fist into the air and punched his shoulder lightly with her small fist, letting her hand drop back into her lap directly after.
"Yeah… buddy." They sat quietly for the next couple of seconds until Lucas remembered what they had been talking about before.
"So! Softball, uh, what did coach say was wrong with you're pitching technique?" Maya turned to him with a too bright smile and almost looked him in the eye (she managed to look at the space just to the right of his face).
"Oh, right! She said that I throw too far to the right and too high. We're going to get a video camera a little after our first game and she said we can use it to pick apart exactly what I'm doing wrong." Lucas raised an eyebrow.
"That late? I can do that without a camera. It'll be a piece of cake, I've seen you throw, theres not that much that needs fixing."
"You'd really do that? Even if it means jeopardizing your win of the bet?" she said with a smirk, her eyes slowly coming focusing back on his face as she became comfortable again. He nodded.
"'Course I would. What's the point of having you play softball if you won't play with me? That was my main motive for challenging you anyway." She laughed loudly, the sound of her amusement echoing in the hallway.
"Whatever, Ranger Rick. I'll just have to take you up on that," she said, taking her phone out of her bag slowly when it buzzed.
"How's Saturday? We can meet at the park." She smiled, but didn't look up at him as she unlocked her phone.
"Sure thing. Text me the time and all that." He nodded in agreement.
"So Riley just texted me saying that she's in the locker room and she'll be here in a minute," the blonde said. Farkle rounded the corner at that moment.
"Hey, Maya. Freakface," he said jokingly, taking off his red debate team jacket and dangling it over his shoulder. The taller boy laughed.
"Farkle, I thought you were the pretty boy from now on, why am I still a freak face?" he asked, pretending to be exasperated. The genius shot him an unamused look.
"Oh, come on. Just because you're not the resident pretty boy, doesn't mean it's natural to look like that." He poked his friend's cheek harshly and looked at Maya.
"I mean, look at this! Smackle informed me that there's only 12% of the world's population that's even close to this! His cheekbones are literally carved out of stone, right, Maya? You try," he said. Quickly it became the two friend's jabbing the former Texan's face with their fingers and laughing as he tried to escape.
"What are you doing?!" a voice called, causing them to pause in their actions and look down the hall where a brunette girl in a cheerleader's uniform stood, hands on her hips and a laugh bubbling from her lips. Maya smiled at her friend widely.
"Well you see, Pumpkin, Farkle here was just telling me that there's only 12% of the world's population that has a face like the Lone Ranger here has, so we were investigating." The brunette laughed loudly as she walked up to them.
"Well I don't know how poking his face is going to tell you anything, but who am I to get in the way of science," she replied, reaching out to hug her blonde friend who leaned into the hug immediately.
"Well if Farkle's taught us anything, its that nothing gets in the way of science. Are you guys ready to go to Topanga's?" Maya asked. She received three murmurs of assent, so she picked up her bag and skipped with Riley towards the doors that opened towards the parking lot, leaving Lucas and Farkle to follow behind at a slower pace. The taller boy looked down at his friend.
"So, Smackle, huh? I thought you two were broken up?" the genius nodded.
"Oh we are, but we're still friends. We've had quite a few stimulating conversations since we broke up, its not too much different actually. She's still infatuated with the scientific perfection of your face though in case you wondered." Lucas sighed with an exasperated smile on his lips.
"Well, at least I know that science says I'm cute." Farkle gave a snort of a laugh.
"Well since I can't prove it wrong, I can't argue I guess." Lucas suddenly smirked and got a mischievous look in his eye.
"So since your single now, there wouldn't be a different girl you've got your eyes on, could there?" The thin boy glanced up at the former Texan from the corner of his eye.
"What are you getting at, Lucas?" Lucas shook his head nonchalantly.
"Oh, nothing. I was just saying that I wouldn't be surprised if you were interested in someone new now. Like, say, a certain cheerleader? Maybe with brown hair and eyes and I know you've always had a thing for sweet girls—"
"Shut up, Friar…" Farkle said quickly. Lucas laughed at his friend as they pushed through the doors of the building into the sunlight. They quickly heard the noise of a friendly argument between none other than Riley and Maya. The girls were standing by the passenger side of the pick up truck and Riley was pouting at Maya who had her arms crossed across her chest.
"But, Maya, I got here first!"
"But, Riley, I called shotgun first!" Maya said, mimicking Riley's slight whine.
"And beside, if we raced every time, you'd always get to sit up front because your legs are longer than mine and you run faster because of it," the blonde explained.
"Exactly! My legs are longer! If I sit in back my knees are basically up to my chin!"
"Doesn't matter, I called it!" Maya noticed Lucas approaching and quickly consulted him on the matter.
"Yo, Heehaw. Your car, your rules. I called shotgun, but Riles got here first, who gets the front seat?" Lucas and Farkle stopped in front of the girls and the taller boy took a moment to think.
"Well, usually the person who calls it gets the seat, but Riley doesn't fit too well in the back and in this car you don't call shotgun to get the seat, so I'm not sure. Try calling the right thing and then we'll see." Maya's eyebrows furrowed in confusion, but Riley jumped up with an excited look on her face.
"Ooh! I know!" Lucas put a hand up to stop Riley from blurting the key word.
"Now now, Riley, lets see if Maya knows." The blonde glared up at him as nothing came to mind.
"I'll give you a hint, I call my truck the Millennium Falcon."
"How am I supposed to know that, Hop-along?" Lucas smiled and pointed at Riley, who immediately called out the password enthusiastically.
"CHEWBACCA!" He nodded while Farkle laughed in the background. Maya continued glaring at the former Texan though realization dawned on her that the Millennium Falcon was from Star Wars.
"Good job, Riley, the front seat is yours." He unlocked the car, but as Riley cheered, Maya lunged for the door and hopped into the passenger seat.
"Yeah? Well, I call Rosa Parks. I'm not getting out of this seat and you can't do nothin' about it." She stuck her tongue out and Farkle kept laughing while Lucas joined in and Riley pouted again.
"Well played, Maya. But how about we compromise and you both sit up front? Its a bench seat, just slide over and Riley can sit there too," he reasoned. The blonde nodded slowly and scooted to the middle of the truck.
"Fair enough. Deal." Riley cheered again and climbed into the seat next to her friend. Lucas turned to Farkle.
"You good with sitting in the back by yourself?" Farkle gave him a word of assent and a thumbs up, so Lucas jogged around to the driver's side and hopped in just as Farkle did the same. Once everyone had their seat belts on, he started the car. Riley immediately switched the radio on to a pop station and began animatedly singing along to a Taylor Swift song with Maya, while Farkle smirked and nodded his head in the back and Lucas groaned and hit his head on the steering wheel.
Yes sir, Lucas Friar was lucky to be in New York with these people.
Uh-oh, my Riarkle shipping is showing. Oh well.