Chapter 3

Mackenzie

The next afternoonsees me at the ballpark for another afternoon of eating popcorn—two handfuls between innings, and one kernel at a time while the Fireballs are batting.

"Are you sure you don't want a hamburger?" Sarah Dempsey, my best friend in the entire universe, asks me as our home team heads into the dugout for the bottom of the eighth inning. She flew in from Copper Valley to join me for a few games, because we've always done games together, even if this is our first spring training.

I shake my head. "It's time to turn over a new leaf. All of last year's habits and superstitions didn't do squat. We finished with a record I can't even think about without crying. So I'm turning over a new leaf and trying some new things." I gesture to the field. "Like attending spring training to get the team off to a good start."

And like anonymously texting the Fireballs' owners video of Meaty the Meatball waving goodbye from a dolphin cruise boat this morning.

Sarah's boyfriend, Beck, is good friends with Tripp and Lila, the team's new owners, and I've spent hours and hours having in-depth conversations with them about everything the Fireballs need to do to improve, which means I do feel guilty about stealing the mascot.

But it had to be done.

They weren't listening to reason, and it's completely unreasonable to replace Fiery the Dragon with a flaming meatball.

"Do I still have to go to the bathroom when we have runners in scoring position?" Sarah asks.

"It worked the last two times today, didn't it?" I sent her to the bathroom for both the second inning, when Darren Greene was on second and Cooper Rock hit him in, and then again in the seventh, when Brooks hit a home run, which means he didn't go out and get laid last night after I made my getaway.

Phew.

I was pretty certain Cooper would make sure he got back to the compound where the players are staying, because Cooper loves this team as much as I do, maybe more, but Cooper's also a total horndog, and to the best of my knowledge, he doesn't know Brooks needs his virginity to hit home runs, so there was that bit of doubt.

Like they might've gone out and had an orgy or something, which I really don't want to think about, since even though I can't talk to Cooper, I've started thinking about him like a brother I never had.

Sarah laughs about the bathroom superstition, and I smile at her. She's adorable, with dark hair and dark eyes and a bright smile. She glows without any makeup at all, which is basically the opposite of me. We bonded in college because we both got the socially awkward gene. I cover my awkwardness with makeup. She used to cover hers by hiding from the world, but now she owns who she is, which is what completely and totally charmed her boyfriend into bending over backwards to win her over.

Beck's an international fashion mogul and recovering underwear model who got his start in the Copper Valley-based boy band Bro Code. While Sarah and I are hanging in the bleachers, he's up in the owners' suite with Tripp—also formerly of Bro Code—and Lila.

Basically, Sarah was my in with the Fireballs higher-ups. She's also my in with the players I've met, if you can call it meeting when I simply sit there and gape at them, since Beck is also friends with like all of Copper Valley, which includes the pro sports athletes.

I haven't told her what I did to Meaty, because she'd probably tell on me, and I don't want to make things awkward for her.

"Look! The mascots are up. I didn't think we were going to see them this game." She points to the field, where the firefly, the duck, and the echidna are scratching their heads and looking around.

Glow the Firefly, has this huge round glowing ball behind his butt, because that's what makes him a firefly. His wings are awesome, and he'd make a great mascot.

For another team. Not for the Fireballs.

Firequacker, the duck with attitude, is here because a family of horny ducks invaded Duggan Field back home, and so when Tripp was tormenting Lila over an encounter they apparently had with the amorous creatures, Firequacker ended up on the finalist list.

I'm seriously worried the Fireballs will end up with a duck as a mascot, because the ducks back home became real celebrities over the winter.

As for Spike the Echidna, I have no idea why he's an option. I'm running a website and social media pages to bring back Fiery, and every single day, people ask what an echidna even is. Apparently it's some kind of fireproof spiny anteater from Australia, but all I know is that he's not Fiery, and that's the important part.

The three mascots stop at home plate, silently trash-talking each other before the base-running contest that the announcer is talking about, Glow shaking his big firefly butt—and yes, I know he's Sarah's choice, since he's a firefly, and that's her favorite canceled TV show—and Firequacker thrusting his hips and Spike wiggling his claws.

Then they all stop and look to an empty space beside them, because there's a mascot conspicuously missing.

My face flushes, and I have to try hard not to squirm in my seat.

Sarah frowns at home plate. "Where's the meatball?"

The video screen over center field suddenly flickers, and oh my god.

It's the video.

The video I sent of the meatball waving as he headed out to sea.

Sarah bursts into laughter.

So does the entire stadium.

The other mascots look at each other and start gesticulating wildly, and it's like they're saying why didn't I think of that?

"This fan re-engagement campaign is really working." Sarah's beaming as the mascots do their mascot thing, clearly debating if they're going to run the bases while Meaty's abandoned them. "I mean, everything Tripp and Lila are doing is working, but the mascot competition is really taking it up a notch."

I seal my lips together to keep from blurting out my question about why Tripp and Lila aren't concerned that their meatball was kidnapped, and how could they betray their team by turning Meaty leaving into a promo opportunity for the mascot?

Because now everyone will be talking about the mascot that ran away.

And what if someone starts a Save Meaty campaign?

What then?

I channel that inner peace that my dads are always talking about, breathe deeply through my diaphragm, and go back to concentrating on my popcorn while my brain spins about what the hell I'm supposed to do with the mascot costume now.

That's a problem for later.

After we win this baseball game. Which means I need to get back to eating one kernel of popcorn at a time, because the Fireballs are up to bat.

Sarah nudges me. "Tripp told Beck that your bring back Fiery campaign is driving a ton of fan mail to the home office with write-in votes."

I mean, duh. That's the point. But I still give her the surprised eyes. "Seriously?"

"I'm not supposed to tell you. Tripp's worried you'll do something extreme if you think your efforts are working."

Uh-oh. I dive for my water bottle to cover my reaction to how very, very close to the truth she's getting. After a big gulp, I yank my Fireballs hat lower over my eyes and stare out at the field. "Like he doesn't want Fiery to come back too."

"Like he'd tell Lila no for anything these days," she counters. "By the way, were you planning on telling me about the picketers you're gathering for the home opener next month?"

"I don't want to make anything weird for you. Like, making you pick between me and your boyfriend's best friends."

"Mackenzie, there aren't sides. All of us want the Fireballs to win and find their fans again. Family doesn't abandon family just because we don't always see eye-to-eye about how to reach a common goal. Plus, it's fun to watch Tripp squirm when Beck points out that Lila's totally wrong about the Fireballs needing a new mascot."

"He is not giving Tripp trouble." Beck's the nicest man on the entire planet. He'd never intentionally make anyone uncomfortable.

But Sarah's smile is turning devious. "I wish you could've made it to lunch. He was hilarious." She drops her voice an octave to imitate her boyfriend. "Lila, are you putting all of the mascots on a pension plan? Like, what happens if it turns out Spike develops a heart murmur caused by all the anxiety over people not knowing what an echidna is? Or if that bird protection group puts Firequacker on an endangered species list and needs to use him for genetic and fertility testing? I hear that doesn't pay well. And a baseball can do some serious damage to a real firefly. I'm talking SMUSH, you know? Can the Fireballs really afford to be the team with multiple failed mascots? Fiery can be rehabbed. He can get back to eating right and exercising and meditating, and he can come back. You have to BELIEVE."

I tip my head back and laugh. "He is such a nut."

"We're both firmly on Team Fiery. Oh, I almost forgot. Cooper invited Beck to the compound for a little get-together tonight. You should come with us. I'll bet you can rally some of the players to give testimonials about Fiery too."

Almost forgot. No, she didn't.

I slide her a side eye while Francisco Lopez does that thing he does where he plucks his uniform at both his shoulders, then grabs his crotch before squaring up to the plate after tipping a foul ball for strike two, and I force myself to remember that she doesn't know I actually talked to Brooks Elliott last night. "You mean so I can go catatonic in the presence of that many gods?"

"You know how we're trying new habits and tactics for good luck for the Fireballs? Maybe they need you to talk to them."

I gasp.

She arches a dark brow.

"You did not go there," I whisper.

The crowds around us erupt in booing, and I whip my head around to see Lopez kick the grass and throw his bat as he marches back to the dugout.

"Oh, come on," Sarah yells as we watch the replay on the jumbotron. "That wasn't a strike!"

I dive for my popcorn and go back to eating it one piece at a time. It's a close game—we're winning by one run with our primary team playing, instead of some of the guys here at spring training on a testing rotation to see if they have what it takes—and I can't take any chances that I quit doing what's working.

But at the top of the ninth, Milwaukee's freaking pitcher hits a two-run homer, and we're not able to close the deal at the bottom of the inning, which means we lose.

Because the pitcher hit a home run.

That's about as likely as the ghosts of the bats—the animal bats, not the baseball bats—that blessed the Fireballs all those years ago, the last time they made it to the post-season, coming back and blessing the team's balls from the afterlife.

Baseball-balls, I mean.

The last thing we need is ghosts blessing Brooks Elliott's testicles and giving them a mind of their own so that he goes out and bangs anything that moves, and after last night, I'm pretty sure he's either very particular with his unique type, or else he's not picky at all.

"Come with me tonight." Sarah links her arm through mine while we head up to the owners' box to gather Beck and offer our condolences on the loss to Tripp and Lila. "Even if you don't talk, you know you'll love the inside look at how the players live. And I don't want to be the only woman there. Again."

"Lila's not going?"

"No, management's trying to give the players space to do their team thing without pressure. There'll be a few girlfriends or wives, but most of the guys are single."

I give her another side eye. "You don't want me to talk to the players to see if I'm good luck. You want me to talk to them because the Lady Fireballs are low on members and want honorary members for raising money for the Fireballs Foundation now that Lila's got it started again."

"I want you to get comfortable talking to the players for all the reasons, Mackenzie. It's been almost two years since you met Cooper for the first time. Eventually you're going to stop coming to see me at Beck's place if you think any of the Fireballs guys will be there. And then I'll be sad, because you're my bestie, and while I will absolutely always make time for you, I'd miss you terribly for having to split my time between you and Beck instead of seeing you both together."

"I'd miss you too."

"So you'll come?"

As if there was a question. Sarah's the closest thing to a sister I've ever had—I mean, in most people's traditional sense of the word—and even if she wasn't, what she's offering is basically in the team's best interest.

Because so long as I'm there, I can make sure Brooks Elliott doesn't get laid.