Hello Loved Ones by Tammy Letherer Page B

to come tumbling down. Broken glass crunched underfoot. Headlights lay strewn about, torn from their sockets, making Lenny feel as if he was being watched. What a joke. He was nobody. Invisible man.
    School was done. There was nothing to do but hang out. Hide out was more like it. He’d be remembered as one of the best players Holland High had ever had who never went anywhere. Talk about going down in flames.
    He used his bat to pound a dent in an old fender. God, he loved that bat. People thought of Lenny Van Sloeten, they thought of the bat. Hell of a pitcher, and boy, can he knock a line drive too. Not that it mattered anymore. He was finished. Washed up. He’d let Hamilton score nine runs and there went his record. He should never have gone to the team picnic. Coach hands him a chintzy little gold trophy and acts angry when Lenny doesn’t shake his hand. He’s supposed to say thank you when his life’s dream comes to this?
    Screw the Dutchmen. Screw his small town coach for not making sure he got scouted. He didn’t need them. And he sure as hell didn’t need to put on a paper cap and prissy gown and get up in front of the whole school just because everyone expected it. What if Rhoda didn’t keep her mouth shut? He’d walk across the stage and people would start whispering. Did you hear? His dad is fucking Rhoda’s mom! His dad is back in town and never even went to visit him.
    So he blew off the graduation ceremony. Big deal. His mom cried. He felt bad about that, but she didn’t know he was doing if for her and Nell and Sally. They didn’t need to know Dad was back in town. They might get all emotional. What does it mean? Do you suppose he’s changed? Is he thinking of us? Will we be seeing him?
    They wouldn’t see him if Lenny had anything to do with it. He cracked his bat against another fender. He needed to get his head together. But instead of figuring out what to do, all he could think was why do things have to end? Why couldn’t he stay a senior forever, pitching for the Dutchmen? And why couldn’t he have found out about his dad three months ago? He could have been wearing his letter jacket. What’s with the jacket? Dad would ask. I lettered in baseball, three years straight.
    Hell, his dad wouldn’t even recognize him. Nobody recognized him, or his talent, or his plans. People only saw him when he was on the mound, and that was over. There was nothing left for him now. He had to get out of town. Except even leaving was ruined now. Lenny could never go if there was a chance his old man would show up and start beating on his mom again. It seemed unlikely, after all this time, but who could be sure? He had to protect his mother and his sisters. That had always been his real job. Now it was show time.
    Okay, then. He’d start at the Torchlight, and if he had to, he’d go to Rhoda’s. But there was no use getting all dewy-eyed. It was going to be hard, it would go terribly, and he’d feel like shit after. Get used to it.
    He was leaning against a half rotted steel-belt tire chucking rocks through the back window of a demolished Chevy when he heard the unmistakable laugh of Cash DeVries. Cash played third base for Holland Christian. Thought he was hot shit. The truth was he was pretty damn good, and only a junior too, so he had another year to play. Lenny should have known by the empty beer bottles that he wasn’t the only one coming here. Probably the whole baseball team would show up next.
    He tossed a rock up over a scrap pile toward their voices. There was a moment of silence as the boys stopped.
    “What was that?”
    “Sounded like someone threw a rock.”
    “Who’s there?”
    Lenny threw another. Ping! It bounced off a metal barrel.
    “John Thomas? That you?”
    Lenny waited, still as a rail. The boys were quiet. How long would they wait? Lenny threw another in the opposite direction. Just then a voice behind him made him jump. The other kid, Martin Beyer, had sneaked around behind