“Wolves, Wolves, Wolves!” The team stood in a circle each player with a hand in the center cheering one of the few wins of the season. The circle broke up and the players started to chatter about the game. “Did you see that catch in right field? How about the double play? Hope we play like this next week!” The players grabbed their hats and gloves, stepping around Bobby as he collected the bats and loose balls. Someone suggested they should go celebrate the win and it was quickly agreed that a swim down at the river would be the perfect spot. Names were run off to check to see who was going: Tom, Runt, David, Pierre, Calvin, John, Jeff, Fly, Dean, Rick, Mike. One name wasn’t mentioned, Bobby…Bobby Metsa. Bobby focused on counting the balls to make sure he didn’t miss any. The team left the dugout. The chatter about the win rewound itself back to previously discussed plays. A bumble bee buzzed into the dugout and circled Bobby’s head.
“Hey Bobby.” Pierre, the catcher had backtracked to get his cap.
Bobby looked up.
“So, uh, the team is going to the river. You wanna go?”
Bobby looked at Pierre. Part of him wanted to go, but he knew that he wasn’t wanted, that he wasn’t counted as part of the group. “Nah, gotta get home.”
Pierre shrugged, “Ok.” He jogged away to catch up with his teammates.