O’Conners

At dinner, Noah reminded his dad that they needed to stop at O'Conners after dinner to get me some equipment. Right after, the twins jumped in and said they needed stuff as well so the whole family decided to go.

I vaguely remember Noah mentioning O'Conners before as a sports store or something. But when we got there, I realized it was so much more. There was daily athletic wear, specific practice clothes, cleats and equipment for all kinds of sports. Mrs. Atkins went to look at their regular clothes for women. Zeke didn't say where he was going. Then the twins ran off claiming they wanted to look at cleats.

Noah and Mr. Atkins stuck with me, and started with looking at baseball pants. Mr. Atkins was quick to pick the right sizes and throw them in the cart. We passed some baseball t-shirts and he grabbed a few of those as well.

"Anything you like in particular, just go ahead and throw it in the cart." He told me as he picked up some long socks.

I looked at Noah and mumbled, "Alcohol."

Mr. Atkins froze.

Noah nodded. "Yea Dad. We need alcohol for his bat to keep it clean. And maybe some other piece of wood to keep the dents out of his bat."

Mr. Atkins sighed with relief. "Oh. You guys mean rubbing alcohol. You had me worried for a second there." He patted his chest. "I thought my heart almost stopped."

I looked curiously at Noah.

Noah grinned. "He thought we wanted real alcohol. To drink."

I shook my head immediately. Alcohol made my mom really crazy sometimes. Or it would make her pass out and then extra angry when she woke up. I didn't want anything to do with that crap.

"No need to be so adamant." Mr. Atkins gave me a light smile. "So tell me about your wooden bat. Do you like it?"

I nodded. Very much.

"Is it harder to hit the baseball?"

"No way, Dad. He still hits it perfectly." Noah answered.

But I disagreed and nodded. They both looked at me. I cleared my throat and coughed out. "Doesn't go as far."

"Wow. Four words." Noah nodded at his dad. "You've almost been elevated to my status."

"How many words do you get?" He asked his son.

"Quite a few a day." Noah shrugged, like it was no biggie. "Especially when he doesn't understand something."

"Like what?"

"Well today we were discussing Garret's cutter so I had to explain what a cut fastball was. We also talked about playing second and short together. Sometimes I get a word or two. Or a nod. Or a shake of the head."

Mr. Atkins laughed. "You must be the one he trusts the most."

"Is that true?" Noah looked me in the eye. I turned red and gave a quick nod, then turned away to go look at something else. Noah caught up to me real quick and threw an arm around my shoulders. "Awe. I'm honored Jake. I'll be your translator and interpreter until you're ready to talk to everyone else."

I could hear Mr. Atkins chuckling behind us, probably amused. Noah led me towards the baseball equipment area and started to point out some expensive cleats and gloves.

I felt uncomfortable with the thought of the Atkins spending so much money on me. The clothes were already enough. Plus the bat was really costly. I don't think Mr. Duncan check from the state would cover all of this.

"If you need it, grab it." Mr. Atkins told me.

I shook my head. I really didn't need it. In fact, I don't even want it.

"You can't just keep using my old cleats. And your glove looks really worn. What if they tear or break?" Noah scrunched up nose.

I looked at Mr. Atkins and shook my head so he would know I was okay with what I had.

"Maybe Jake likes what he's using." He told Noah. "Your old cleats are worn in so they probably don't give him blisters. And maybe his glove is broken in perfectly for his fielding."

Noah sighed. "Okay. That makes sense. Moving on."

They dragged me all throughout the store to look at anything I might need. We grabbed alcohol and a piece of wood for my bat. Finally after an hour of torture, the whole family met up at the front of the store to checkout. Everyone had grabbed something, even quiet Zeke. The total was in the hundreds and make me sick to my stomach. But Mr. and Mrs. Atkins didn't even blink. They just paid and passed out the bags for us to carry.