So I know I’m not actually getting jumped on the baseball field, I just don’t know what is happening. Quitting right before summer break, it’s been easy to dodge these guys, but now they’re all in front of me. Zander is leaning against the fence outside the dugout, and when I push the little gate open on the visitors’ side and step out onto the field, he doesn’t move right away. I’m halfway to home base before he pushes himself away from the fence. A few other guys are out on the field, messing around, throwing grounders; Mani is kicking third base like he’s making sure it didn’t get soft over the summer.

“Man,” I say, trying to sound like I’m not nervous as I approach the dugout. “The whole team is concerned about Olivia and me.” I shove my hands down into my pockets.

Mani’s head pops up from where he’s standing by third. “No way,” he mutters.

Zander looks annoyed that I said her name, but quickly softens his face. “Not about her.” He tosses me the ball he’s holding. “We’re here to help.”

I clench the ball in my fist, and instinctually, I start rolling it around, feeling the laces under my fingertips. “With what?”

Zander throws a hand behind him and clangs the dugout fence. “Throw it out here,” he says. A helmet hurdles over the fence, and I realize for the first time that Zander’s wearing his shin guards. It’s what I expect to see him in on the baseball field, but this isn’t a game, or a practice. He picks up the helmet and thrusts it in my direction. It’s not actually a helmet though, it’s a face mask. I’ve seen them online before but never in person. It’s like a wire cage that goes over your face, with straps that wrap behind your head. It looks a little like something a killer would be wearing in a horror movie, and they’re mostly used for players recovering from some sort of facial injury.

I shake my head as Zander thrusts it at me again. “I don’t need this,” I say, irritated. “Give it to your pitcher.” I look at the bench where Callahan, my backup, must be feeling like total crap right about now.

“You don’t have to let one hit ruin everything,” Zander says, the mask still in his hand. “Get up there.” He nods to the mound behind me. “And let us help.”

“You can’t help me with this.”

“We can, just let us practice with you, help you shake it off. We’ll have you back in no—”

“I don’t want you to help with this,” I say, leveling him with a stare I hope will shut him up.

He looks confused. “But Olivia made it sound like—”