#2, rated K: Scout.
Scout wipes the sweat from his forehead with the back of his hand, staring up at the sun with squinted eyes as he treads through the dirt lot. The crunch and slide of the ground beneath his cleats is achingly familiar. This is the last place other than home he'll go before he leaves—there's nothing left for him in Boston but his ma and his record. He kicks home plate, brings up his pop's old bat, adjusts his grip. Tosses his baseball up one-handed. Swings as hard as he can.
It clears the fence, and he leaves it there.