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Annabella Is a Disappointment
Annabella Ewing never signed things for fans. It wasn’t because she was easy to miss — she stood a respectable 5 foot 7, with deep blonde hair, she was pretty noticeable. It’s just that the Flood fans didn’t want hers specifically. Which was fine. Annabella found that she had mixed feelings about the fans, and most of them weren’t positive.
Annabella feared United’s fans. The Flood’s fans were passionate, sure, every team had passionate fans. The Flood had a lot of kids in the audience, lots of families in the stands, and the stadium reflected that. It was a gentle passion. The Sandbaggers jumped up and down and sang and chanted just like United’s fans, but it was a very PG sort of event. They weren’t polite, but they weren’t scary either.
United’s fans cheered when pitchers threw balls at your head, cheered when you took a ball in the shoulder, and called you a piece of shit if you fell and didn’t get up quick enough for them. Only if the injuries looked serious, like take you off the field on a stretcher serious, would the chants of “LET THEM DIE! LET THEM DIE!” stop. They loved the losses, loved the humiliation of their opponents, the destruction of their rivals. And in a way, Annabella respected that. They were nothing if not consistent. She knew where she stood with the Ave.
The only time the Flood’s fans ever broke their PG rule was then they said ‘asshole’. It was in a song, and it was about her. Specifically, it was a song about how bad of a pitcher she was. And that was true, she was a bad pitcher. Pro Corkball News rated her pitching at half a star, ranked as worst in the league. But Annabella wasn’t trying to be an asshole, she was trying her best. She did better as a batter, but honestly, she wasn’t that great either. Olean said it was best to keep her where she was. She didn’t fight it, but she hated being the dead spot in the rotation.
But the worst thing was that her teammates went along with it. Sometimes, when she pitched, she could hear her teammates humming the song. They probably didn’t even know they were doing it. She convinced herself that was the reason.
Annabella managed to pull in a clean first inning, with no small help from Girlfriend and Janet, cleaning up for her on the field. She stretched her arm, and took her spot on the bench. Jo Tuning, Olean’s protege, prepped to bat, their back to Annabella, putting on their gloves and softly singing, “she’s a loser and a total disgrace.” Annabella let out a long breath through her nose, trying her best to tune Jo out.
“Jo,” Janet said, also prepping to bat. She narrowed her eyes at her teammate.
“Yeah?” Jo stopped mid-motion, holding their helmet above their head.
“Stop singing that shit,” Janet said. “You’re better than that.”
“What’d I-?” They looked around, sweeping their eyes past Janet and right into Annabella’s stare. Annabella looked away, her fists clenched. “I wasn’t doing-“
Janet put her bat on the railing between them, hard enough that the pang echoed in the dugout. “Stop.”
Jo’s eyes widened. They stammered, not getting a word out, and ducked out of the dugout to the on deck circle.
Annabella sat down.
“You good?” Janet asked, looking at Annabella over her shoulder.
“You don’t have to do that,” Annabella said, letting her eyes drift to the corner of the dugout. She crossed her arms over her chest.
Janet adjusted her shin guard. “They’re being assholes to you. You don’t have to take it.”
“And what do I do? What do I do when my own teammates talk shit about me too?”
Janet picked up her bat, held it firm and looked it over. “You got a bat. You can use it for more than hitting balls.” She looked at Annabella, giving her a hint of a smile. “And if you don’t know how, I got a bat too.”
At the plate, Olean Sanger struck out. Janet stepped up to the field. “You didn’t ask to be here. None of us did. We’re not going to help anyone by being shitty to each other.” And she went to take her place in the on deck circle.
Jo and Janet made easy work of United’s pitcher. Apparently, their manager was swapping people around, and put Oliver Trashcat on the mound. He looked every bit as lost as she felt, but he was putting up a brave face. And while Krisjen Dusky approached the plate, Mariya Usha jogged out to the mound to help get his head back in the game. Annabella knew those conferences well, Krisjen or Olean trying to to keep her distracted, not from the game, but from everything else. It was kind of nice, especially Olean, who could, with the turn of a phrase, make the crowd drop away.
Trashcat centered himself on the mound, and pitched a fairly solid curveball to Krisjen, who picked it out of the air, popping it up. Aston Humble got under it, and caught it with ease. He jogged it back to Trashcat, tossing it to him with a joke and a smile, and got an uneasy but welcomed laugh out of the pitcher. Must be nice.
The game became a pitcher’s duel. Not like a game Amylee Washington or Brick City’s Giggle McDaniels would have. Washington and McDaniels would have kept things clean. If the batters were lucky, they’d catch a piece, hit one off the wall, and drop it right into an outfielder’s glove. But this? This was survival. Crasher Katz hit a home run off of Annabella, bringing in three runs. Girlfriend took Trashcat to the cleaners, a triple that brought in two runs. Mariya Usha hit a homer, looking thrilled — she never did, if Annabella remembered the strategy meeting from before the game — but then looked a little embarrassed, maybe for Annabella’s sake.
Fine. Okay. Whatever.
In the 5th, Annabella struck out Rammy Montevideo. Each strike felt like a bolt of lightning hitting her spine, and when Montevideo walked away from the plate, Annabella listened as the United fans fell dead silent. Good.
And it was deep in the 8th, when the Flood pulled ahead of United, 14-12, Janet launching a missile over the wall, when Annabella heard it, really heard it. The United fans were still chanting, still singing, jumping up and down, and as Trashcat watched the ball go, they chanted “O-K! O-K! O-K! TRASH CAT!” Mariya walked back up to the mound, and Annabella caught the look on his face. She knew the feeling. God, did she know that feeling.
When Halcyon Hill hit a walk off home run, when the United fans shouted ‘SHAME’ down at her and the Flood, she was just relieved the game was over. Krisjen met her as she trudged back to the dugout, her arm sore, and she thought of nothing more than icing her arm up and falling asleep in her dorm. And while she was daydreaming, half listening to Krisjen talk about any one of the restaurants down by the Levee, she caught a player jogging up to her out of the corner of her eye.
“Hey!” They said. “Annabella!”
She turned, and Oliver Trashcat stopped in front of her. He stuck out his hand and she shook it.
“Thanks for the challenge,” he said. She was certain he wasn’t challenged at all by her, but she’d take this kindness. Annabella nodded. And then Oliver said, “They do it to me too. Don’t listen to them.”
Annabella blinked. She wasn’t expecting this. She was the loser. She was the total disgrace. She wasn’t supposed to have someone being kind to her about it, much less two.
“It’s not fair to you,” he continued. ”They don’t matter. I had fun and I hope you did too.” He hadn’t looked like he was having fun, but she gathered that wasn’t the point.
“Thanks, Trashcat,” she said. What else could she say? She tucked her glove under her arm, slipped her hands into her pockets, and walked back to the dugout, her head held a little higher. Janet watched from the bench, collecting up her stuff a little slower than the rest of their team.
“What’d he say?” Janet asked.
“Just wanted to say hi,” Annabella said. “And to say that the fans suck.”
Janet nodded. “He’s not wrong.”
“Yeah, it was nice.”
“He’s a good guy,” Janet said, zipping up her bag.
Annabella scanned the dugout for things she didn’t want to leave behind. “Oh yeah, aren’t you guys friends?” She turned back to Janet.
Janet picked up her bag and left for the locker room.
-g
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