7

It took a bit of persuasion to get April to play with us. Poor April. Once Felik and Grigor chose you, you didn't have much chance to refuse. Her mom didn't mind her taking sometimes for sport activity. In fact, she encouraged it because she didn't want April to spend all her free time working at the cafeteria. Besides Felik and Grigor had made the schedule easy for her to get her training, just five hours a week.

April, me, Olive and the two coaches went straight from the baseball field to the Matryoskha Restaurant.

We stepped out of their shiny Bentley and wondered why they brought us to this place. Felik greeted everyone as he swept us through the restaurant into the kitchen.

"Mitko!" he called out.

I recognized the guy at the stove -it was the chef I'd seen with our coaches the night I was kicked out of the Blue Belles team. He was fussing over pots of food on the enormous stove with eight gas burners hissing away.

Mitko was short and stocky, with his belly bulging hard against his apron. An incredibly friendly man who laughed when he saw us.

"This is Mitko, the owner of this place," said Felik. "Mitko, these gals are..."

Mitko held up his hand to stop Felik.

"The baseball team," he guessed. Then he leaned forward to whisper to us, like it was a big conspiracy, "I give Felik so much hope to coach you girls."

"Mitko's a great pitcher and catcher himself," Felik said to us.

Mitko laughed. "Used to be."

"Anyway, I would like you to meet April, Olive and Darci," our coach said. Mitko wiped the sauce off his hand and offered it to us to shake. But each of us stared at the hand as if we weren't sure what to do with it. None of us was used to being treated so respectfully. In the end, I had to take the lead and shook his hand. I nudged Olive and April, and they followed my example.

"Ah, our kapitan!" said Mikto, nodding as if they'd already discussed me.

"April here needs a few tips on pitching and catching," Felik told him. "And I think who else has the safest hands and reflexes like lightning like Mitko? He used to coach the Russian national baseball team, too."

"Years ago. Before I got old and fat," Mitko chuckled.

"I know it's all still in here," Felik said, tapping the chef's temple. Then he reached into the sports bag Grigor was carrying and whipped out a bat, gloves, and ball. Mitko's eyes lit up. He just couldn't resist it.

Two minutes later we were in the alley behind the restaurant. And we watched the three of them coaching April. Then Olive was asked to pitch while I took the bat. April would try to catch the ball.

"Leap for it! Good! Never watch the player, always eyes on the ball."

April leaped and lunged to capture it, hurling it back to us. She seemed quite excited. You could see she was loving this more and more.

"Don't be afraid when the ball is coming fast at you, you don't dodge or second guess, you catch it," said Mitko.

I sent a powerful shot, at a difficult high angle. The ball went towards a corner of the walls, and there was no way any catcher could get it, but April lurched forward, her foot kicked against the building wall and literally bounced off into the air to catch it.

"Wonderful!" roared Mitko. "Felik where you've been hiding these gems!? They're like ballerinas of baseball!"

So the next Thursday - the first official round of the season, the Rejects was ready.

~*~

It was a home game. Getting down the Diamond field, I spotted Felik talking with his boyfriend, his hands flying through the air. If we didn't know better, we would think they were fighting, but that was just how Russians people talk.

I was so busy watching the two's big discussion that I didn't notice Charlotte Grace until she was right beside me.

"Thought you were quitting baseball," she said.

"Thought you weren't interested in the Rejects," I replied, pointing to the camera gear she'd brought to our game.

Charlotte just smiled and perched on the fence next to the bike rack. I dropped my sports bag, fiddling around longer than I needed to so I wouldn't stare too much at her. I tried to think of some way to start a conversation. But every idea that came to my head seemed so dumb, it wasn't worth opening my mouth. Eventually, Charlotte was the first to speak.

"Do you think your dad really likes coaching?" she glanced at the field where the Blue Belles team was.

"He used to," I said.

"What happened?"

"I don't know..." was the best answer I could manage.

She clamped her hands around her neck and strangled herself. "I'm such a big mouth. Sorry if I ask too many nosy questions, Darci."

I loved how she said my name. There was always a cute whiny tone at the end. She made it sound like a two-syllable song.

I gave Charlotte a smile. "It's alright. I don't mind." And I meant it. "Sorry if I don't know too many of the answers." (Did that sound stupid? Was I making a total fool of myself?)

"But you think you're better off out of your league?" she asked. I nodded firmly. That was the only thing I was sure of. Charlotte smiled like she understood. It felt good, feeling her smile at me. I decided to keep my mouth shut and not ruin the moment.

"Those Russian guys are interesting," Charlotte said, pointing to Felik and Grigor. "And you girls, too. But too bad I have to make this dang doco about the Firsts."

"Doco?"

"A documentary," she giggled. "I inherited a lazy tongue. My mom is Australian."

Is that why you're so gorgeous, too? I wanted to ask but didn't.

She peered at the two coaches having their strategy meeting in the Bentley.

"The short one does most of the talking, doesn't he?" she said.

"That's Felik, he's a motivator," I said. "And Grigor is a more the tactics guy."

Then the two coaches got out of the car, slamming the doors shut like a Mafia gang in the movie. Grigor hoisted something out, it was a blackboard.

The next thing I knew, we were in the change room, all the Rejects were crammed into the tiny space, listening to the pre-game instructions.

I thought the Blackboard was a bit pathetic, really. The Rejects could hardly play in sync with each other, let alone remember any fancy strategic plan.

"Everyone of you has a job to do," Felik said and fixed each girl with his eyes, making it sound as if she was absolutely crucial for the team. Then he pointed his finger at me.

"Darci. What Russians call Kapitan. We should talk later, Darci," he said then turned to my best friend. "Olive - the pitcher. The key position."

Olive jumped like a terrified rabbit. She'd never been a 'key' anything and she didn't know if she liked the responsibility.

"Melissa, the pinch runner. April, the outfielder, Harper..." Felik went on, but as he scanned the room, the girl wasn't there. "Where is Harper? Does anyone know?"

No one had a clue.

"Let Susan take Harper's role first half then," Grigor said and his partner nodded in agreement.

"Alright, Stefanie and Nora, the shortstop and second base, the Dynamic Duo."

Stefanie and Nora flashed each other poison looks. Being a duo was the last thing they felt like.

Felik opened his arms wide with a big smile on his face.

"Do your best today, and me and Grigor will be happy, win or lose."

When it was time to come onto the field, they herded us to run out of the change room together. Like a proper team.

A wave of cheering and clapping hit us as we emerged onto the field. I figured the other club must have a lot of supporters, but then I saw a mob of people on the sidelines holding our banners. I looked again. It was Mitko and a pack of his Russian friends.

"Are those people related to any of us?" Olive whispered to me.

"Oh, how embarrassing," moaned Stefanie. "Strangers come to watch us be complete cactuses."

"It's commonly cacti," said Melissa.

Felik stopped me just before I ran into the position.

"One second, Darci," he said. "The way me and Grigor play the game, your role is very important. The Kapitan is to see the whole play, guide her teammates, take risks or not to. Can you do that?"

I shrugged. It didn't feel like I could guide myself, let alone a pack of seemingly clueless girls.

"I think you can do that," Grigor said with a crisp nod. And when the big guy already said so, I had to believe him even more than I believed myself.

The whistle went. The Rejects versus the Red Stars.