Days went by quick and soon it was already three weeks after the first day. True to his word, Coach made us have practice every single day. We had easier workouts on the weekends, but weekdays were absolute hell.

Slowly but surely, the guys on the team have warmed up to Harrison and me. A few of them are still hard to crack, but now we can actually have different throwing and hitting partners and talk to other people than just ourselves. Miles was still as annoying as ever, but I could now have a, for the most part, civilized conversation with him.

We start games in three weeks, which is an eternity away. I want to just start playing, but I know when games do come around that Harrison and I will most likely be riding the bench. Coach was still one of the ones who hasn't warmed up to us yet. The silent treatment isn't in effect anymore, but he barely talks to me, unless it's yelling at me.

The whole Dad conversation had been luckily avoided every time it's brought up. Miles had prompted me a couple times to talk about Dad, but I would maneuver around it and bring up something else. I know I can't hide it forever because eventually he's just going to flat out ask about it. Even then I'm going to avoid it. That's the part of me that is not going to be public knowledge. It's not a topic I like to talk to anyone about.

Today was Wednesday, which means we still have two more days till the weekend. I was aimlessly pushing my cereal around in the milk as the rest of the camp filtered in to the cafeteria. I had my head propped up in the palm of my hand. My head was stuck in a drowsy haze. I was getting enough sleep, but all the physical activity was taking a toll on me. I could feel my eyes slowly closing, and the spoon grew heavy.

A small tug on my pony tail snapped me out of the daze, and the spoon flipped out of my hand and clattered on the table. Some of the milk flipped up and droplets hit my face and dribbled on my clothes.

"Damn it," I muttered.

"Stay awake there, G," Jackson said, smiling at the fact that he had caught me dozing off.

"But I'm tired, Jacky," I said with a baby voice.

I grabbed a napkin from the basket in the middle of the table and dabbed at my shirt.

"You have some on your nose and chin, too," Jackson said pointing at the drops.

"I know," I quipped smacking his hand away.

"Aren't we in a good mood today?" he said sliding in to the chair next to me.

I stuck my tongue out at him before reaching for my flyaway spoon. Wiping it off with my napkin, I began to eat my cereal again.

"What's up with you?" Jackson asked taking a bite of his over easy eggs.

"Just tired, I guess. I don't really want to go to practice today," I replied.

"Me either. I want a day off."

"Same. If I asked for a day, I would probably be running a couple miles after practice everyday or I would be kicked off the team."

I could only imagine asking Coach for a day off. His face would slowly become red and then begin to turn his neck the same color. When he finally would speak, it would be calm at first before growing in to a full on rage session. Then the punishment would be dealt out, and the silent treatment would come in to effect again. I only knew this because I had seen it about a week ago.

Two guys from another team were throwing tater tots at each other for a solid 10 minutes. Then one of them came up with the very intelligent plan of throwing two at a time, but his very well thought out plan did not go the way it was intended. Those two tater tots flew over the intended target's head and went flying towards the door. At that exact moment, Coach Rust thought he would go get some lunch. He was walking through the door at the very same time as Idiot number 1's tater tots went soaring through the air. Both tater tots hit Coach head on. One hitting him square in the forehead and the other right on the nose. Now at this time everyone had been watching these two morons have their tater tot battle, and everyone saw Coach Rust get hit. There was complete silence as Coach stood stock still at the doors. He then began to make his way towards the perpetrators of the flying tater tots. Not a sound left anyone's mouth as he went storming towards them. Both guys' eyes went wide, and their jaws went slack as soon as they realized their fate. Now Coach gave them a good 15 minute session of verbal abuse. Their punishment was having to clean the cafeteria after every meal for a month. Now as you can see, I have a legit reason not to make him angry. I for one did not want his inner bear to come out again anytime soon.

"Naw. He needs you too much."

"Are you kidding me?" I asked. He must be joking. I mean come on. The guy absolutely hates me.

"He knows that you're better than Walker. He just refuses to give in and let himself believe that. Walker is good and everything, but you edge him out."

I chewed on the inside of my lip and thought over what he said. I did think I was better than Walker at short. Not to be conceited, but it was pretty evident from practice that he wasn't as strong.

"That may be true, but he would never say that out loud. Being wrong is something he could never fathom," I pointed out.

Jackson nodded and continued to eat his breakfast.

I went back to eating bites of cereal and zoning out.

The doors swing open to another round of players coming in to get breakfast. I looked up to find the rest of our team come trudging in. They all looked exhausted as they grabbed their plates and bowls to get their breakfast.

One by one they dropped in to their seats and lazily speared and scooped their food in their opens mouths. They looked like little birds waiting for their hand to bring up food to their awaiting mouths.

I couldn't help but let out a soft laugh at their slow, lethargic movements. It seemed the whole table was put in slow motion. Even chewing took a good minute of time before they were ready for the next bite.

"Everyone seems to be pretty tired," Jackson said voicing my exact thoughts.

"That's just what I was noticing," I said absentmindedly.

Harrison plopped down in the seat next to me with his bowl of Captain Crunch. He had purple circles under both eyes, and his eyelids drooped. He didn't offer any sort of greeting as he usually did in the morning. His brunette bed head hair covered some of his face as he slumped forward.

"Well, good morning Sunshine," I said looking at Harrison.

"Hi," he said curtly before shoving a bite of cereal in to his mouth.

"Someone is in a great mood," Jackson said ruffling Harrison's already mused hair.

"I'm tired," he pouted, "I don't want to go to practice."

His lower lip quivered lightly as Harrison sighed before taking another bite. The kid was tired no doubt about it.

"I don't think anyone wants to go," Jackson said.

"Well, get someone to convince him to cancel for just one day," Harrison suggested.

"Who would be able to convince Coach?" I wondered out loud.

I looked around at the whole team sitting at the table. I knew Coach liked some guys better than others, but who would have the most effect? My roamed over every face until they came to rest on the one person I knew could convince him, Miles Harris.

At the very beginning, Coach had called Miles his favorite player several times. Miles would be perfect. He could charm the crap out of Coach, and he was already kissing his ass on a daily basis.

"Miles," I said out loud.

"What?" Jackson asked confused.

"Miles is Coach's favorite player, and he can easily kiss his ass enough to let us have a day off."

"Very true. That could actually work. Alright go tell him the plan."

"Why do I have-"

"Just go." He waved me off with a dismissive hand before going back to his breakfast.

With that, I gave a loud sigh and got up from my chair. I started to walk over to where Miles was sitting between Danny and Gabe.

Danny said something, and the other two started laughing. They sat on the clear opposite side of the table than us.

I poked Miles in the shoulder to get his attention. He whipped around and looked up at me. His green eyes bore in to my own eyes. There were gold flecks I had never noticed that were scattered in his irises. After a moment too long, I realized I was staring at his eyes for way too long.

He cocked an eyebrow at me, waiting for me to speak. I blinked several times and then cleared my throat.

"Jackson and I have a plan," I suddenly blurted out, trying to make this a little less awkward.

"Okay?" he said still looking at me strangely, "would you like to elaborate a little?"

There was the usual Miles.

"I was getting there," I snapped crossing my arms over my chest.

"I'm listening."

"Everyone looks pretty tired from having practice everyday, so Jackson and I were thinking we should get a day off."

"Alright, that's great, and how do you expect Coach to agree to that?"

"That's where you come in."

"Oh, goody."

"Shut up," I said giving him a smack on the arm.

"It's not nice to hit," he whined rubbing his arm.

"Can you just listen?"

"Alright, alright."

"Everyone is exhausted, and I think that this Friday we shouldn't have practice, and since you are the obvious favorite, I think you should ask him for the day off."

"Me?"

"Yes, you."

"And you thought of me asking him on your own?"

"Yes?"

"Well, good job thinking for yourself," he cooed.

My hands curled in to fists, and my teeth clenched tightly. I just want one good swing at his face, and I would be happy.

"I think I'll just have to see how far I can shove your giant fucking head up your-"

"Gloria? Can you come here?" Harrison suddenly called from across the table.

"I'm not through with you you fucking asshole," I hissed at him as I stomped back over to where I was sitting.

"What?" I snapped dropping in to my seat.

"You were getting really mad, so Jackson and I decided to bring you back over here," Harrison said looking at me worriedly.

The kid was like a little mother, always worrying and watching you carefully to make sure you're okay.

"How could you tell I was mad? I was all the way over there. You can't hear that anything that's being said over all the noise and the distance," I said slumping back in my chair.

"It's pretty easy to tell when you're mad. You scrunch your eyebrows together, and you scrunch your nose up," Jackson explained running a hand through his hair aimlessly.

"No, I don't," I fumed.

"Everyone on the team knows when you start getting angry. When you start doing that stuff then we either change the subject or get the hell out of there."

'If everyone knows when I get angry then why does Miles not change the subject?" I asked irritated with this.

"I'm not sure why he does that. He was the first one to figure out those signs too, and he told all of us for our benefit. I'm pretty sure he just likes seeing how far he push you before you totally explode."

"Dickhead," I muttered.

"So that's why we try to pull you out of there if he starts doing that, or we make him cut it out. Not going to lie, but I feel like if we ever let him go too far you would end up strangling him or hitting him over the head with a bat multiple times," Jackson said with a faint smile.

"That's probably very true. I almost gave him good knock to the nose."

"We'll have to see if he can persuade Coach," Jackson commented before standing and grabbing my dishes along with his.

"Come on, Squirt. Time to go," I said to Harrison.

"I don't want to go," he complained.

His head was placed in the crook of his elbow on the table. Brown hair stuck out in all different angles as Harrison pushed his face farther in to his arm.

I sighed and looked down at him with a little bit of sympathy. He was a couple years behind all of us in physical and mental maturity. Everything we do is a few years above what he's used to. If he didn't show up or came late, Coach would probably tell him not to come back and go home.

"I'll carry you," I said lightly poking him in the shoulder.

He shifted his head to look up at me with his big brown puppy dog eyes. Those huge chocolate eyes could melt anyone's heart and are very resourceful in persuading. I gave him a reassuring look and held out my hand to help him up.

He gave a small sigh before taking my hand. I pulled on his thin arm to pull up him to stand. I turned around, and he hopped on to my back.

A couple guys stared as I carried him out. Probably a bit of a weird scene, but I could care less, and Harrison probably felt the same way. Jackson was patiently waiting outside for us.

"Are your legs not working?" he asked Harrison as we started towards the fields.

"No," Harrison mumbled in reply. He rested his chin on top of my head.

"He's a little tired," I said in a baby voice and rolled my eyes.

Jackson chuckled and gave Harrison a few pats on the back.

We walked in silence for the rest of the time. A few times I bounced to get Harrison in a higher position on my waist. He stayed quieted and moved to a better spot. The kid was pretty light weight. His bony arms hung loosely around my neck. Harrison had also moved his head to have his cheek rest on the top of my head; small breaths of air blew softly on my hair from his nose. He barely moved as we walked towards the fields. Just the light weight and the breathing ticking my scalp helped me remember that he was still here.

The three of us got to the field, and I placed Harrison down on the bench. He looked a bit more awake as we put on our cleats. A few at time, the rest of the team showed with Coach being the last one to arrive as usual. This morning however, Miles was accompanying him on his way down to the field.

We all gathered in the outfield like every morning and waited for Coach to come out. I pulled my ankle to touch my upper thigh to stretch my tight quads. Putting both hands over my head, I yawned and popped my back.

Coach came waddling over a few moments later with his trusty clipboard in hand.

No one has ever seen what he writes or has written on that clipboard. Rust is always writing something though with his pencil. He keeps whatever is on there a secret from everyone and makes sure it's never alone.

"Morning," he said gruffly as he took his spot in the circle.

We nodded in acknowledgment, but none of us bothered saying anything in return.

"I was asked this morning about a day off on Friday. I thought it over and decided that you guys have been going to practice or conditioning for 21 straight days, and your bodies probably need a day off. This is not going to be an every Friday thing. You can have off on Friday but don't expect another one for a while."

I couldn't help but smile at not having practice on Friday. I was exhausted and so was everyone else.

"If any of you think you can slack off before Friday, you are sorely mistaken. If one of you gets the idea to take it easy till Friday, no one will get the day off. Understood?" he threatened before looking at us for an answer.

We all vigorously nodded our heads in understatement.

"Then get running," Coach yelled before turning and waddling away.

Everyone took off at a quick pace to the far foul pole. Many of the guys gave out whoops and yells as our pack ran along. There was definite excitement for a much needed day off. I searched through the herd of guys, and finally pick out Miles's blonde head, bobbing up and down. I weaved through all the bodies to eventually get to where he was running along side Nathan.

They were pushing and shoving each other and laughing when one of them lost their balance.

I gave Miles's a small shove in the arm to get his attention. He looked down at me with a wide smile, which only widened when he made eye contact.

"Do you love me or do you love me?" Miles cheered giving me a push back.

I was thrown side ways but quickly regained my balance.

"I wouldn't say love, but I don't hate you as much now," I replied.

I did my best to keep pace with him and his long strides. We neared the right field foul pole and turned back.

"Oh come on! I got us out of practice and conditioning on Friday."

"Would you like an award?"

"Yes, that would very nice," he replied, not missing a beat.

"How about you get over yourself?"

"I will when you do."

I shoved him harder this time. Miles staggered to the left before barely catching himself. Dumbass deserves it.

"Classy move there," he snapped.

"Always," I retorted.

We got to the left field foul line to stretch before we started hitting and taking infield and outfield.

I began to make my way over to where Harrison was standing. As I took the first step forward, my foot caught on something. Not expecting anything, I didn't get my other foot to step in front me to catch myself. I put my hands out right as I almost hit the ground.

"Ow," I mumbled pushing myself up to stand.

All the guys were trying to hold in laughs as I pushed myself up. One person was not trying to hold it in at all. I looked up with a scowl to see what bastard was about to die.

Miles was bent over at the waist with hands on his knees almost crying laughing.

"You asshole," I hissed standing up to my full height of a very imposing 5'3. I stormed over to him and gave him a punch on the arm.

He gasped for air, practically crying, laughing so hard.

"That was good. I was just trying to make you stumble, but you just crumpled," he chuckled.

I clenched my teeth and was trying to keep my composure.

"You're going to be crumpled when I'm done with you," I bit out.

"Is that some sort of a threat?" he asked looking amused.

Tightening my hands in to fists, I stalked toward him with the anger boiling and pumping through my veins. He was just bringing on his death faster and faster.