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for and when he gripped the bat, his
    tongue poked out at the corner of his mouth in
    concentration. I couldn’t help but smile at him. It took him
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    three tries, but the third one, he hit over the heads of the
    first line of fieldsman.
    “Nice!” I cried.
    e first thing Max did was whip his head around
    toward the bleachers, his face a glowing smile of pride. His
    mother was still on her cell and wasn’t even looking in his
    direction. His smile dropped right off his face and he
    turned back to the tee. I wondered what the opposite of a
    Helicopter Parent was.
    “Okay, gang, bring it in,” I called as the last kid, David,
    finished his round at bat. Various vehicles were starting to
    pull into the parking lot and I was happily surprised to see
    that an hour had already passed. “Come here and sit down
    for a minute.” It had only been one practice, but I felt like
    I’d learned a few things and I wanted to talk to the kids
    about them. “You did great. You did really, really great. I’m
    proud of all of you.”
    Gabriel snorted a laugh. “Brittany and Jordan couldn’t
    even hit. At all.”
    “Shut up,” Jordan snapped, his manhood obviously
    bruised. Brittany just flushed a light pink.
    I bit my lip to keep from snapping out a retort that
    Gabriel’s parents probably wouldn’t appreciate. “You know
    what Gabriel? First of all, this is a team. We’re all supposed
    to work together and do you know what that means? It
    means that the people who are good at certain things need
    to help out the ones who might not be and that way the
    whole team will get stronger together. So just because you
    can hit the ball, it doesn’t mean you get to laugh at those
    who might not have the hang of it yet. Making fun of your
    teammates is not something I want to hear happening.
    Understood?”
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    Nods and murmurs rippled through the group, at least
    from those who were paying attention. Katie was pulling
    grass out by the roots and Mikey was sprawled out on his
    stomach looking so comfortable that I wondered if he
    might actually be napping.
    “So, the fact remains that you all did well. You tried
    your best and you’ll do it again tomorrow. at’s why we
    have practice, so we can get better. Right?” At their nods, I
    waved my hands as if shooing them away. “Good. Go. Go
    home. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
    ey scattered like leaves in the wind.
    I was picking up balls and putting them into Maddie’s
    nylon bag when the lone male from the bleachers came to
    say hi.
    “Jake Weber,” he said, shaking my hand in a grip that
    was both solid and friendly. “I’m Samuel’s dad.”
    I fumbled in my brain to try to pick out which of the
    boys was Samuel and finally settled on the quiet redhead
    with the freckles and shy smile. “Of course,” I said, noting
    Jake’s darker version of Samuel’s hair. “Samuel not Sam,” I
    teased, using the phrase the boy had used to tell me his
    name. “I’m Avery King.”
    “Pleased to meet you.” His smile was kind and I liked
    him right away.
    “Samuel seems like a really nice kid.”
    “He is. A little shy,” he added with a chuckle, “but a
    good boy. He’s been looking forward to this since winter.”
    He scratched at his neck. “Anyway, I just wanted to say
    hello and meet the coach.”
    “I’m glad you did,” I replied and meant it.
    As Jake headed back to his son, Brittany’s mom
    approached from the bleachers. Maddie hadn’t warned me
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    about all this parent interaction and I made a mental note
    to slap her the next time I saw her.
    “Hi there,” she said, holding out her hand. “Marjorie
    Sullivan.” Her clothes were designer, her makeup was
    flawless, and her short hair was the color of spun gold and
    perfectly highlighted. Everything about her said this was a
    woman who was used to being listened to, used to getting
    what she wanted.
    “Avery King,” I responded, shaking her