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“STRIKE THREE! OUT!”
The crowd cheered as Kenny triumphantly wheeled back to the dugout, hi-fiving Achmed on the way back.
“And with that, the Junior All-Stars have managed to snag another win! At this rate, the playoffs will be no problem for them!” Sunny Day noted excitedly. Vinnie offered only a wise nod, and a thumbs up of approval for the All-Stars.
“And so, our game has come to a close. Be sure to tune in next time! This is Sunny Day and Vinnie the Gooch, signing off!”
The baseball teams joined together, clapping each other’s backs and congratulating the performance of each team.
“Kenny! Wow dude, you rocked out there!” Achmed said, grinning at his best friend. “They couldn’t hit a ball even if they tried!”
Kenny smiled. “Yeah, I’ve been working on my arm strength. My mom has me doing more exercise around the house.” The two of them fist bumped, strolling back to the sidewalk.
“Hey man, guess what?” Achmed hinted, slowly revealing something out of his pocket. Kenny tilted his head with intrigue. With a grin, the headphones-wearing boy whipped out a tape. Kenny gasped.
“Little Bo Peep and the Rocking Sheep?” He said, slack jaw morphing into a smile.
“Yeah, I finally found my copy to show you!” Achmed beamed, sliding his headphones down on top of his shoulders. “I know you’ve heard me sing it, but just wait until you hear the guitar!” He mimicked a guitar solo, hands vigorously strumming the “strings” in a frenzy.
Kenny grinned in anticipation. Today was a good day.
—
Back at the Khan’s house, the two boys listened intently to Achmed’s tape deck. Achmed gave his air guitar a few experimental test strums, while Kenny tapped his armrest in rhythm.
“Y’know, I always wondered what you were talking about when you said that the harmonium goes perfectly with the drums, but now I see exactly what you mean.” Kenny mentioned, head bobbing with the beat. “When did you learn to sing this?”
Achmed laughed, slightly tilting his head in embarrassment. “My cousin Iqbal showed me when I was four, and then Amir a year later.” He glanced out of his bedroom door, and added in a whisper, “My mom was not very happy about that.”
Now it was Kenny’s turn to laugh. “Well, then she must be glad that you only play your tape deck in your room!”
The two of them giggled nonsensically, and the tape came to an end.
“Hey, while you’re still here, do you want to listen to any of the older tapes I have?” The younger asked, ejecting the tape and setting it on the floor. “I know that you’ve already heard most of them, but you don’t have to be home for another thirty minutes, and besides…” He turned away from the older boy, digging through his cassettes. “I like listening to these more with you anyway.” He continued rummaging through his pile, eventually settling on one that advertised a 7 minute guitar solo.
“Sure. I like listening to songs with you too.” Kenny agreed, smiling. Achmed slowed his movement, fumbling the tape for a moment before managing to properly insert it into the deck. The second the play button was pressed, a loud bashing and clanging filled the room as the introductory drum solo started.
Achmed snuck another glance at Kenny, who was no longer looking at him but instead the tape deck, humming and tapping his fingers. A joy filled his chest, suffocating and intoxicating. Kenny liked listening to music with him. Music was his whole thing! Kenny liked his whole thing! The two of them, he told himself, would stay friends forever, surely.
But was Kenny being his friend really what he wanted?
Ever since this year’s baseball season had started, and teams were drafted, Achmed had figured out that Kenny really did bring him happiness, almost in the same way that his music brought him happiness. But whereas the energy from his songs ended with the last beat, his joy with Kenny could last hours, days, heck, there was even a whole week where Kenny took up more of his headspace than his music!
Achmed frowned. That week was last week.
He did, unfortunately, know what the adults called this kind of feeling.
A “crush”.
Double unfortunately, he only knew one other person with a crush, and that was Marky Dubois, who was in love with Billy Jean Blackwood, who absolutely despised Marky. Billy Jean was also a girl, and Kenny wasn’t, and also Achmed was generally very confused about how the whole crush thing worked.
But hey, as Sunny Day said, you miss 100% of the swings you don’t take.
So maybe that was why Achmed stood up to properly face Kenny, fiddling with his fingers in a way that screamed “I am sweating and don’t know what to do”.
“So, uh Kenny…”
Kenny stopped facing the tape deck, tilting his head confusedly. The lyrics of the song had long since finished, and had reached the promised 7 minute guitar solo. It was no quieter than before, the screaming of the strings swarming the room.
“I, uh, was wondering if you’ve maybe ever had a crush, dude…?” Achmed asked nervously, sweat darting down his back for non-sports-related reasons.
Kenny, properly puzzled now, put a hand on his cheek, thinking to himself. “No,” he finally concluded. “I don’t think so.”
Achmed shuffled around timidly in place, confidence he had gained a moment ago now rapidly draining. “Well, um…”
“Why are you asking, anyhow?” Kenny twisted his wheelchair so that his whole body faced the other. “Are you feeling ok? You don’t look very good.”
“I- I was just wondering if maybe…” He struggled for the right words. “...You swing my way, y’know…?”
Darn it. That wasn’t very subtle or cool.
Kenny frowned. Achmed felt a pit in his gut.
“No, I don’t swing your way, dude.” He stated, and Achmed wished that had been it, but he kept going. “Dunno where you got that idea… I mean, you’ve seen me, you can stand perfectly fine, but I’m in a wheelchair. We can’t swing the same way.”
And sure, Achmed wasn’t expecting anything grand, but at least when Sunny Day mentioned swinging your bat, she made it sound like something good would happen.
“Hah, yeah dude! I, uh, that’s cool. Say, um, you should probably get going, I-I mean, my mom’s going to be home soon, she wouldn’t like hearing our rock, y’know?” He stuttered, working overtime to keep his face bent into a smile. Kenny looked at him oddly, before turning to wheel out of the room.
“Yeah, man, it was fun I guess.” He stated plainly, watching as Achmed opened the door. “Do you still wanna hang out tomorrow?”
Achmed gripped the door handle tightly. “No, um, I have to do homework. But, y’know, maybe later we can rock on , right?” He smiled weakly, his free hand forming a rock’n’roll gesture.
Kenny stared, rolling out the door. “Yeah.” was all Achmed heard before he was gone.
Achmed stared at the door for a while, before he heard the back door open.
Looks like mom was home.
—
“Achmed, are you done yet? I have to use the bathroom!”
Amir knocked impatiently on the bathroom door, hopping back and forth. Ever since he and his mom had come back from their doctor’s appointment, his brother had given them a half-hearted hello, and then locked himself in the bathroom. At first, Amir had thought it might be related to the expired jelly that had been in their lunch sandwiches, but Achmed had been in there for over an hour, blasting tunes and sobbing.
“C’mon, dude, I really gotta go!” He whined, knocking again.
“ACHMED!” Their mother yelled from the garage. “Your brother needs the bathroom! Hurry up, or you won’t get any dessert after dinner!”
The loud pounding of music came to an abrupt stop as Achmed (presumably) paused the song, though the sniffling remained. It almost sounded like Mikey had somehow made his way into their bathroom, which would be bad , Amir thought, because I don’t want to get sick .
The light clicked off and the door handle turned, and Achmed moped out of the bathroom, before turning immediately to his room.
Amir squinted at him, but not for long, as he really did have to use the bathroom.
—
The Kawaguchis always had dinner together in the dining room. There was no better way to catch up on the day’s happenings, and learn what had happened for everyone. It was Kenny’s favorite time of the day.
Well, except for baseball. Baseball with his friends was pretty good.
“-and then Kenny threw the ball so fast, Jorge didn’t even have time to react before the strike was called! He walked back to the dugout with super wide eyes!” Vicki excitedly recapped, swinging around her fork like a bat.
“Vicki, dear, please use your fork to eat your peas.” Her father chuckled. Having scooped some peas of his own, he then asked, “And besides, I think Kenny would like telling that story more. It is his pitching performance, after all.”
Kenny nodded, poking his ham slices with his fork. “They couldn’t do anything, dad, I was real good. And in the fifth inning, I got a double.” He noted proudly.
“Very nice, your arms aren’t tired, are they?” His mother questioned, elegantly cutting her ham with a knife. Kenny shook his head. “Good, good.” She responded, taking a bite before asking, “And how was Achmed doing? Did you have fun over at his house?”
He furrowed his eyebrows, staring intently at his peas which had remained untouched on his plate. “Achmed was weird today.” He was all he said, shoving another piece of ham in his mouth.
Vicki turned to face him. “What’d he do? Did his…” She looked around, before turning back to Kenny with a whisper. “...Did his music rattle his brain too hard?”
The family laughed, and even Kenny had to smile at that.
“No, no. Well, I don’t think so…” The table laughed again. “No, we were listening to his music tapes, because he finally found Little Bo Peep and the Rocking Sheep, and he’s been wanting me to listen to that one for days, and then it finished, and he said, ‘let’s listen to another one,’ and I said okay, because I like listening to tapes with him. And he said the same thing, that he likes listening to tapes more when I’m there, which is really cool.” He rambled, fork abandoned on his plate. Vicki leaned forward with intrigue as he continued his story.
“So anyway, he puts on a really loud one with lots of drums and guitars, which made it a little hard to hear but I could still hear him fine because he’s loud too. And then he asks me if I’d ever had a crush before, which I haven’t, because I don’t know what that feels like since I’m only nine-” He stopped talking as his story was cut off by Vicki ooh-ing.
“Did Achmed have a cru-ush~?” She giggled. Their parents scolded her lightly, but still quieted down, because they were interested too.
“No, silly, he was asking me.” Kenny rolled his eyes at her. “And then, what’s stranger is that when I told him no, all of a sudden he’s asking about my batting stance!” He threw his arms up in the air for added effect.
“Well, what did he ask?” questioned their father, a grin seeping onto his face. Looking back at his mother, she had something similar happening. Confused, Kenny continued on.
“Well, he got really fidgety and asked if I swung his way, and obviously I can’t, so I told him no.” He admitted.
The table erupted with laughter on their parents' end, his dad slapping his own knee and his mother going red in the cheeks.
“Well, duh!” Vicki sighed. “You can’t swing like him, you can’t use your legs! And look, I’m not trying to be mean here, but his batting average is way higher than yours!” Kenny nodded solemnly, before processing what she said. “Hey!” He protested.
She shrugged. “I’m sorry, Kenny, but he hits a home run every day, and you’re lucky if it hits the fence!”
Kenny straightened his back. “Oh yeah? Well you’re one to-”
“Kenny, it’s okay, please don’t get worked up over this.” His mother giggled suspiciously. “And Vicki, it’s okay if Kenny doesn’t hit home runs all the time. He’s a great pitcher, so he doesn’t need to.”
Vicki mumbled something to herself, stabbing a pea and eating it sullenly.
“Kenny, he-” His father had to cut himself off, stifling another laugh. “Achmed wasn’t asking about your batting stance.”
“Yes he was.” Kenny responded, more confused than ever. “What am I missing? Is everyone going to be weird today?”
“No, Kenny,” his father replied. “Achmed was asking if you had a crush on him .”
What?
But he’s a- Kenny thought.
Was that why-
But why did-
Could ‘swing’ mean-
…
“Ohhhhh.” Kenny said.
The table exploded with laughter.
—
“Achmed, come out of your room, dinner’s ready!” His mother’s voice rang down the hall.
Achmed didn’t bother responding. He had already cycled through his heaviest, most rockin’ playlist three times, and if his mother hadn’t taken away his headphones for blasting music all day without stop, it probably would have been more.
As far as he was concerned, there were only 3 things on his mind.
1: Sunny Day had lied to him.
2: You cannot blast rock and roll through your feelings.
3: His feelings sucked pretty hard right now.
How was he supposed to feel? Kenny didn’t have a crush, and he certainly didn’t have a crush on a guy, and he most certainly didn’t have a crush on Achmed, and Achmed was pretty bummed about that. Achmed didn’t know any words that were sadder than bummed , but if he found one he was pretty sure that it would be accurate.
“ACHMED! DON’T MAKE ME COME IN THERE!”
With a groan, wiping his eyes raw for a final time, he stumbled out through the hall, into the dining room.
Like the Kawaguchi’s, dinner time was the time everyone was expected to attend. It was also used to catch up on stories, happenings and gossip. It was, without a doubt, Achmed’s least favorite time of the day.
Except for getting struck out at baseball. That was pretty bad.
“Achmed, is everything alright?” His father asked, stabbing a piece of chicken pot pie. Amir shoved a large piece into his mouth, looking intently at his brother.
“I’m fine, Dad. Baseball was fun.” He mumbled, looking vaguely at his slice. His mother frowned.
“No you aren’t, you’ve been moping all day, ever since Kenny came over to play. Did you two fight?” She narrowed her eyes as she bit into some carrot. “Don’t tell me you two fought, you always have so much fun together.”
Achmed shook his head.
Silence.
“I thought Achmed did really well at baseball today, Mom!” Amir chimed in, scooping more chicken pot pie into his mouth. “He hit two home runs! I can’t wait to play against him tomorrow”
“Amir, don’t talk while you’re eating, it’s rude.” Their mother scolded, before glancing back at Achmed. “And don’t lie to me Achmed, you were fine when you left for baseball. And your brother says you played very well, so something must have happened between then and when Amir and I got back from the doctor’s.”
Achmed gulped. “It’s nothing, Mom. We didn’t fight, we just had a disagreement.” The way Achmed was fighting to keep his face from plummeting into frowns and tears, he might as well have been fighting a war.
Which is to say it was really hard, and wasn’t going very well.
“Achmed,” His father warned, sliding another slice of pie onto his plate, “Don’t lie to your mother.”
Achmed’s untouched dinner lay as a stark contrast to the rest of the table.
“It was fine, Mom.” He desperately tried to argue. “Nobody hurt anyone - well, I didn’t hurt Kenny-”
“He hurt you?!” His mother stood up, looking her son up and down.
“No, Mom! He just-”
“I’m going to talk to his parents, he better be ready for what’s-”
“You’re not listening to me! He didn’t-”
“Did he threaten you?”
“No! He and I-”
“I can’t believe that boy! When I-”
“STOP!”
Achmed slammed his hands on the table and took a deep breath. His father sat silently, while Amir watched with wide eyes.
“We didn’t fight, Mom. We… I…” He sniffled.
When dams break, it is never all at once. There are cracks, fractures that grow and spread, until the wall has lost enough structural integrity so that it will collapse.
Achmed's breath quickened and tears stemmed from his eyes like buds on a flower. He tried to form words but nothing could come out cleanly, and just like that his own personal dam broke into pieces, leaving nothing in its wake but sorrow.
“IreallyreallylikedKennysomuchIhadacrushonhimandItriedtoaskifhefeltthesamewaybuthedidn’tandsaidthatwecan’tbetogetherrrr…!” He said, sobbing in between words. His head rolled down in dismay, ugly hiccups escaping. “I really wanted him to say yes…!”
“Oh Achmed, oh, honey…” His mother softened, walking over to give him a hug, which was quickly reciprocated. Amir, however, appeared out of the loop.
“Kenny? But wait, you… I thought you could only like girls, because… wait…” He stumbled over his words.
“No.” Achmed sniffled. “It was Kenny.”
“Kiddo, it’s alright, not everybody’s gonna love you back, and…” His father scratched his neck, looking for the right words. “There will always be another person, and you can still be friends with Kenny. The kid’s cool, and I’m sure he will still enjoy playing baseball with you tomorrow.”
Achmed froze in horror.
“अरे बाप रे. Tomorrow’s baseball game.”
His mother pinched his cheek. “Watch your language.”
—
“Hello, all you baseball fans! I’m Sunny Day, and this is my pal Vinnie the Gooch! Here to bring you another day of baseball commentary.” Sunny cheered, chipper as ever. “Today we have the Junior All-Stars at home against the Humongous Hornets!”
“This matchup is sure to be a tough one. The Hornets are the only other team this season who have remained undefeated, so only one of these teams will get to keep the title!” Vinnie added, stroking his chin wisely. “And get this, Sunny: we have not one, but two sibling pairs going head-to-head today!”
Sunny Day gasped in surprise. “Right you are, Vinnie! And with that, I suppose we should get right into our team introductions!” With a grand sweeping motion, she raised her hand towards the first dugout. “Ladies and gentleman, I present to you: the Humongous Hornets! Ironically,” she noted, “consisting of many of our league’s smaller players, but don’t let their size distract you from their sting! In batting order, we have: Reese Worthington, Amir Khan, Maria Luna, Dante Robinson, Luanne Lui, Gretchen Hasselhoff, Stephanie Morgan, Dmitri Petrovich, and Vicki Kawaguchi! Let’s give them a round of applause!”
The kids and adults who had managed to make the game cheered loudly in the stands, with lots of whoops and whistles.
“Very nice, Sunny. But the team that I believe in most lies in the other corner of this ring…” Vinnie grinned dramatically. “To our audience, I welcome you to watch this league’s best: the Junior All-Stars! Out on the mound, we have Kenny Kawaguchi, followed by Kiesha Phillips, Pete Wheeler, Tony Delvecchio, Achmed Khan, Ernie Steele, Lisa Crocket, Mikey Thomas, and our fan favorite, Pablo Sanchez! Can we hear some noise for this stellar team?!”
Once again, the bleachers filled with noise.
Back in the dugout of the All-Stars, Kenny heard the telltale signs of Sunny promoting this game’s raffle, and turned to his team.
“Alright, guys, this one’s gonna be tough, but as long as we play fair and fast, they won’t be able to do anything. Got it?” The team nodded, Pete stating matter-of-factly that he was fast. Kenny grinned.
“Awesome. Are we ready to play ball?”
Silence, followed by some shuffling and a sneeze from Mikey.
“I SAID, ARE WE READY TO PLAY BALL?!”
“YES!” The team cheered, and began to file out of the dugout, save for one boy who wasn’t wearing his headphones like he normally was.
Kenny wheeled closer to Achmed, looking up and down his normally energetic frame, expecting spunk but finding none. “Hey, dude, where are your headphones? Normally you need them on to not hear me.”
Achmed looked down at the ground. “My mom took them last night.” He sheepishly admitted, foot shuffling along the dirty floor. “Played my music too loud.”
Kenny grit his teeth. This wasn’t good. A lot of Achmed’s power in his swing derived from his rockin’ music, and if he didn’t have that power to save him, then he probably wouldn’t even make it to first base.
“Well, even if your mom isn’t in the stands today…” He said, quickly glancing out at the crowd, who were waiting patiently for the game to begin. “I’m sure she’ll hear how, uh… cool you are today, and give them back.” Neither of them could look in the other’s eyes. Both of them were dodging the elephant in the room, and neither Kenny nor Achmed wanted to be the one to bring it up.
Great. Now Kenny would be distracted today.
“Regardless of what happens today, we still need to go out there and try to give your brother a run for his money.” Kenny tried, smile not quite meeting the edge of his mouth.
Achmed mumbled in response, “And your sister.”
“Exactly. Now let’s get out there and play ball.” The shorter confirmed, wheeling out of the dugout and off to the mound.
He barely caught the sniffle that came from behind.
—
The game wasn’t just awkward because of the tension between the two boys.
It was also awkward because they were losing. To their younger siblings, no less.
“Aaaand Swan has managed to score behind the All-Stars’ backs, not to mention the double that Big Toe managed to get away with! Things aren’t looking good for them!”
“No siree, no they are not.” Vinnie agreed, tapping his finger impatiently on the table. “Look at them, totally out of sync! They all need to come to an agreement on who goes where, or this game’s going to be a wash faster than a frog in a rainstorm!”
Kenny’s teeth clamped tightly together. It didn’t matter how accurate he tried to be, all he could think about was yesterday, which led to him thinking about Achmed, and when he thought about Achmed his pitch wavered, and suddenly he had walked not one, not two, but three batters!
Vinnie was right. The team needed a talk.
Despite how tired his arms were from pitching and wheeling base-to-base, he raised them in the shape of a T, for Time Out. The teams walked back to their respective dugouts, and while Kenny’s beat arms pushed him off of the mound, he watched Vicki scoot up next to Gretchen, whispering something in her ear. Gretchen, astounded by whatever Vicki had said (the ballerina nodded in confirmation, grinning), sped off towards her dugout, an incredibly loud yet indecipherable announcement echoing across the field.
Kenny got a very odd feeling that he knew what Vicki had whispered. The little pipsqueak , he thought to himself in annoyance. Doesn’t know what should and shouldn’t leave the dinner table.
Once everybody was inside, Pablo raised his hand to talk.
“¿Por qué no estamos ganando todavía?” He frowned, tossing his glove between his hands. The team nodded in agreement, except for Pete, who tilted his head confusedly.
“I think… we’re all too tense.” Kenny finally spoke. Lisa scoffed.
“And how do you propose we fix that? I’ve been doing these ‘breathing exercises’ that my dad told me to do. Nothing has changed.” She deadpanned, garnering concern from the rest of the team.
“No, no.” Kenny objected. “My mom said when we get too stressed in a game, we just need to have a cool, unrelated talk. Which is why-” He raised his arms again. “We are going to spend the next few minutes having a nice, cool chat.”
Keisha guffawed, shaking the bench. “Sure, I love talkin’! Say, little Tony, have you seen the new Terminator movie?”
Tony popped his sucker out of his mouth. “Sure have, Slick, but never call me little Tony. I am a big man.” He emphasized, though it fell flat, given how tall Keisha was. “Let me elaborate - I am older than you.” He sighed, taking another shot of his sucker before turning back to the girl. “But the new movie was pretty cool.”
Conversation quickly riled up the dugout, and soon, every player was participating in some good old-fashioned chatter.
Well, save for two, but I think you get the point by now.
“So, um…” Kenny started, twisting his chair so that his arms could lay limp against his lap. “I… was told that maybe you…” He grimaced. “...Weren’t asking about my batting stance yesterday.”
Achmed tilted his head in confusion, Kinda like our dog , Kenny noted briefly, before shoving that thought for a different time and place that wasn’t in public.
“...I … don’t remember asking anything about your batting stance?” The Pakistani boy questioned, still confused.
“It was, well, we were listening to your tapes.” Kenny clarified. “You asked me if I ‘swung your way’-”
“A-and that’s okay that you said no! You don’t need to be the same as me!” Achmed jumped to his feet, shaking his hands to try and quell any tension. “M-My dad said that this is perfectly normal to be ‘rejected’, he says this happened a ton to him when he was younger! Y-y’know?”
Now it was Kenny’s turn to wave his hands. “No, Achmed, I thought swinging meant swinging my bat! Which I obviously can’t move as powerfully as you can, I mean, my sister said it well enough last night, right, I’m lucky if it gets to the fence! But you can send it over the audience any day of the week, no problem! And therefore…” Kenny mimicked trying to swing the bat like Achmed, bumping his elbow on the wheel. “...You swing differently than me.”
Achmed jaw dropped. He slowly closed it, eyes never leaving Kenny’s. “So… what you’re saying is-” He instinctively moved to lower his headphones, forgetting that they weren’t there. “You didn’t hear my actual question?”
“No.” Kenny admitted, rubbing his arm. “But when I told Mom and Dad about what you said, they told me that… What you were actually asking was…”
It was almost funny, how easily Achmed’s body language portrayed his emotions. It looked like all the cold water was being drained out of a sponge, springing back to its normal defined size and shape.
“...Do you have a crush on me?” He finished, eyes bright and filled with pleading, his hand wringing hopelessly against his chest.
Kenny took a deep breath. “Well,” he started. “I don’t know what a crush feels like. But…” he added as Achmed started to deflate again. “Maybe I can tell you how I feel right now, and you can tell me if you feel the same way?”
Achmed shot up again, nodding vigorously. “Yes, dude! I’ll be sure to be clear with what I say this time, so we don’t feel sad around each other again!”
And sure, Kenny might not have known what his own face looked like right then, but Achmed, clear as day, saw the light pink that dusted the older boy’s face.
“Well…” Kenny led again. “I really like listening to your tapes with you, and I think the tapes would probably be a lot more boring without you.” He searched for the right word for a minute, hand making a circle motion. “I think now, there’s no point in listening to rock’n’roll if you’re not there!”
“Yes!” Achmed instantly agreed, hands clenching into fists. “I can’t think of my music without thinking about you, because you make the tunes extra fun and you’re always there with me!”
“A-and do you think about me in the same way I think about how it’s super cool how you can keep hitting a home run, no matter how tired you are?” He asked hopefully, an inevitable realization that had been evading him for weeks - no, months - slowly coming into focus.
“Of course!” Was the answer, the younger boy’s face turning as red as his headphones when he realized what was said. “I-I mean, it’s just so cool how you can strike a team out for every inning, a-and then use those same arms that threw fastball-after-fastball to get you to every base without a problem! It- it doesn’t-” He paused for a second, catching his breath. “It doesn’t matter to me how hard you hit the ball, because no matter where it goes, you’ll already be on first and ready to steal second! You rock, easy!”
Kenny would be lying through his teeth if he said that didn’t make his heart beat passionately with the praise.
But there was a problem he had reached, because now he remembered something that all daters did: hand holding.
“But if we actually, y’know, date , then what about if we want to hold hands? He questioned nervously, extending his hand to emphasize the issue. “‘Cause I can’t move my hands very far past my wheelchair, so you’d have to lean over, and then I’d run over your foot every time!”
And then Achmed, for the first time all day, let out a laugh and grabbed his hand and held on tight, the two of them being drawn closer than they ever had.
“Well, duh , if my foot gets run over a bunch, then I’ll be in a wheelchair like you, which will make me extra cool because you look cool in your wheelchair, silly!”
The two of them met eyes once again, Kenny’s and Achmed’s shining despite the darkness of the dugout. Kenny let a giddy, silly smile flood his face, his cheeks colored like roses. He didn’t care if this ruined his cool demeanor, because-
“I think I have a crush on you.” He finally admitted.
The rest of the dugout erupted into cheers, and both the boys flinched, startled.
“All-RIGHT Achmed! That’s awesome, buddy!” Ernie whooped. Tony silently put a hand out, and Kiesha grumbled as she passed him a bubble gum. Lisa stared at the new couple, slow-clapping.
“Is this really why you told us to talk it out, so you guys could actually talk it up?” She narrowed her eyes, but kept clapping.
“NO, no, I really wanted us to be performing better out there-”
“¡Sí, SÍ!” Pablo laughed, purposefully spilling some water on his head to shake it off with newfound vigor. “Y ahora tenemos algo que ellos no tienen: ¡una pareja!” He grinned, putting up his fists triumphantly.
“...I don’t get it.” Pete stated, scratching his head. “But this break was nice, I’m sure I can score a goal now!”
“Yeah, we should probably get back out there.” Kenny chuckled. “We’ve probably been in here for too long anyway. It’s a good thing Vinnie likes us.”
The team nodded, and moved to exit the dugout, but Achmed stopped them.
“Hold on, team, we need to move with a little more enthusiasm. On three, we cheer. Ready?”
“One, Two…”
“GO STARS!”
It was time to play ball.
—
“Looks like our teams have finally exited their dugouts! What a relief, I was beginning to think we needed to send someone over!”
“I’ll say.” Vinnie nodded, twirling his corn dog stick around with his fingers. “Kenny must’ve given ‘em a real-deal of a speech. But ya know what, Sunny?” he pointed, directing their gaze to each individual team member. “Look at their team. They look more amped than they were in the first inning, especially Axeman! I’ve never seen the kid so chipper when he doesn’t have his headphones.”
“Indeed, Vinnie!” Sunny beamed, leaning on her crossed arms. “Do you think they have a comeback in ‘em? A reminder that we are top of the sixth inning, 5-2 Hornets.”
Vinnie leaned back in his chair, gaze locked on Achmed as he stepped up to first, a grin wide on the young boy’s face.
“Oh, I don’t think so.” He said, gaining a grin of his own. “I know it.”
—
With his newfound vigor (and boyfriend), Kenny was easily able to rear back and toss strike-after-strike with near perfect accuracy. Slowball, heat, hook. Heat, slowball, hook. Hook, hook, fireball.
He was, as Achmed had said once, “mowing these kids down.”
As Vicki made her way off of the home plate, she stuck her tongue out at Kenny, but both of them knew it wasn’t anything serious.
And now it was his turn to bat, and though he was tired from that last fireball, he still swung the bat with everything his arms had left to offer.
And just like Achmed had mentioned earlier, he made it to first with time to spare.
Up next was Lisa, who had really tried to hit the fastballs that Amir was serving out, but eventually was struck out.
Then came Pete. For as unaware as the kid was, he knew how to run, and run he did to first as Kenny easily maneuvered to second.
It was Tony’s turn, and although he missed the first swing, this gave Kenny a chance to steal third. Their catcher, Maria, was caught too off guard when he started booking it, and didn’t throw the ball in time.
Things would be looking up, if it wasn’t for Tony striking out.
But Pablo was next in line, and while he did swing for the fences, Vicki fetched the ball too quickly for him to earn anything more than a single, with Pete scurrying off to second.
Bases loaded, tensions high, here stepped Achmed onto the plate.
His brother gave him a sympathetic look, before hanging a right hook just far enough to count as a strike.
“Achmed, c’mon man! You got this!”
Achmed started sweating as he heard the cheers and chants from his teammates, both in the dugout and on the plates.
Amir reared back, tossing a fireball right through the middle that caused him to jump.
Strike two, Achmed. We just need to hit the ball. He reminded himself, knees starting to shake. He had never felt like this before, never had this much pressure placed upon him before.
But as he saw Amir wind up to throw his final ball of the game, he glanced over to third, where he was met with Kenny beaming, offering him a trusty thumbs up. With that smile that he had seen so many times before listening to tapes but never directly for him, he could almost hear the drums banging in his ears, the guitars strumming in his veins, the vocals of the singer echoing in his soul again.
Only this time, he had someone else to go with it.
Achmed turned back to the ball now hurtling his way.
He swung as hard as he could.
And drove it out of the damn park.
—
Silence.
And then cheers from everywhere. The bleachers, dugout, bases, heck, even the mound was chanting his name.
“Ach-med! Ach-med! Ach-med!”
“And that’s a grand slam for Achmed Khan, in what seemed like an impossible matchup but has instead turned out to be one of the single most notable wins in this entire league! Ladies and Gentleman, the Junior All-Stars have taken the game!” Sunny Day, try as she might, couldn’t refrain from going into every detail about the slam.
And honestly? Achmed didn’t care.
All he cared about was running the bases, until he stepped back on the home plate and fell to his knees, arms in the air.
Tears could have been running down his face, and he wouldn’t know, because at that moment Kenny rolled over beside him, and reached out his hand. Achmed took it gladly, hoisting himself back to standing, and let go, instead choosing to form his hand into a fist.
Kenny smirked, and two of them gave an epic fist bump for the world to see before holding hands again, making the crowd go wild.
(It wasn’t really the world. But again, Achmed didn’t care.)
“Achmed, dude, you killed it out there!” Kiesha squealed. Lisa nodded, and Ernie gave him a clap on the back.
“Listen here, Slick. I’on care what anybody else thinks, in that moment right there? ” Tony took out his lollipop for added effect. “You really were a star. You earned that boyfriend of yours.”
Kenny laughed so hard he almost bent over, and the rest of the team joined in.
“Say, uh, were any of our parents watching? I sure would love a pizza party right now.” Mikey sheepishly asked, wiping his nose. Everyone turned to face the now-exiting crowd, keeping an eye for any parents who might be running over to congratulate them. And sure enough, they did see someone’s parent jogging out of the crowd…
“Ohh boy.” Kenny shrunk back in his wheelchair a bit, face turning red.
“Heyy, buddy! Fine job out there, what a pitching performance! And…” Kenny’s dad’s eyes traced the two boy’s intertwined hands. “...Looks like things worked out okay for you two?” He then laughed, then aimed to push Kenny’s wheelchair.
“Dad, c’mon…” Kenny whined. “I can wheel myself just fine, I’m not even that tired! Also, the team was wondering if we could have a pizza party?”
His dad stopped pushing him to stroke his beard in thought. “I suppose, as long as everyone here talks with their parents beforehand to make sure it’s alright. Don’t want to get into trouble, and all that.”
“Thank you, Mr. Kawaguchi.” The All-Stars replied politely, before devolving into chatter, some kids bidding goodbyes as they began their walk home, some staying for a moment to continue the conversation.
“Alright, you two, let's get you into the car and back home before that pizza party, yeah?” Kenny’s dad gestured, waving Vicki over from her own team. “Achmed, do you need a ride?”
“No, sir, my mom told me she’d be here 10 minutes after the game.” He stood awkwardly, sneaking smiles at Kenny, which were reciprocated.
The father shrugged, moving once again back towards their car. “Okay, see you at the party, kid!” he shouted, turning fully around to focus on his destination.
Achmed plopped down on the grass with a sigh, closing his eyes and letting himself rest. Good game , he told himself. You-
“-really rocked it out there!”
He opened his eyes. Amir stood, happy as ever, right in front of him.
“Yeah dude, my pitches barely even fazed you! I thought that last hook was pretty good, but then you sent it right out of the park! And you and Kenny held hands - did you make up?
Achmed closed his eyes again, patting the ground to invite his brother to lay in the dirt with him. He could hear Amir take his suggestion, laying right beside his big brother.
“Yeah, Kenny and I are good.” He clarified. “We, uh, figured it out in that dugout during our time out in the sixth inning.” Achmed let a dreamy smile cover his face again. “After that, I just knew I was going to hit your pitch. Which was still a good pitch, by the way.” He added, and just knew that Amir was beaming.
“Yeah, I saw you look right over at Kenny before I pitched! Did you swing for him?”
“Yep, I-” Achmed stopped himself, processing what Amir just said. He opened his eyes and sat up, a perplexed look on his face.
“अरे बाप रे, I did.”