“Don’t move a muscle, Alex,” she says again before going back to the stand, glaring and looking meaner than a wet cat. Last week Michelle told Alex that Momma’s on drugs again and that’s why she’s mad and mean and skinny, and Alex thinks maybe that’s true but maybe Michelle is jealous that Momma is skinny and Michelle isn’t. When Momma got a nosebleed Tuesday night Michelle whispered, See, I told you, and Alex was confused because he thought you got nosebleeds from being in the nosebleed seats at the football stadium, not from doing drugs or working on the ground floor. Michelle says Randy sells drugs and that’s why Momma likes him so much, but Alex thought Momma liked him because he had pretty eyeballs.

There are only two people on the field, a guy at home plate with a baseball bat and a big bucket of balls and a guy at first base swinging his arms around like he’s a windmill. Alex recognizes the batter as Lions shortstop Ray Putney, but he doesn’t know who’s on first. He looks young, like he’s maybe the same age as Michelle. When Putney hits a ball bouncing up toward first base the guy bends down to scoop it up and Alex can see the name on his back: GOSLIN.

It is so quiet in the stadium he can hear the players talking. “Don’t insult me, Putt.” That’s the fielder saying that.

“Just getting warmed up, Willy. Don’t you worry.” Putney tosses another ball up in the air then swings around and hits it, harder this time. It zooms so fast Goslin has to put up his glove to protect his face and then the ball is in his glove, whap. “That’s it, Goose. Nice catch.”

The first baseman throws the ball back toward home and it hits the bucket of balls and makes them rattle and they almost tip over but they don’t. “I told you, never call me Goose, got it?”

“Okay, okay. Gos-lin. Got it.” Putney pulls another ball out of the bucket. “Pop up?”

“Sure.” Goslin punches the leather of his glove and looks up at the sky. But the ball leaves the bat charging along the ground in fast, mean bounces and it goes right by him into the right field. Alex laughs.

“Fuck you, Putt!”

Putney smiles. “You got another left-handed batter willing to practice this JV shit with you?”

Goslin is quiet and gets back into his crouch, his glove on his knee. “Gimme another.”

“That’s what I thought.”