The Uneventful Life of Harvey Mackler

c h a p t e r | f o u r t e e n

Finn raises an eyebrow; he shoots me a puzzled look. "That's an oddly specific amount. Why that price?"

Because my little brother is a psycho who's blackmailing me to fund his video game addiction.

For the first time that morning, I address Finn properly. I turn to him with a saccharine smile and say, "We can just end our surfing lessons altogether if you prefer."

"I didn't say I wasn't okay with it," Finn hastily replies. "I was just a little curious."

"I'm a girl of oddly specific thoughts," I supply as an answer to his question.

"Fine then, if I don't make it past the first round, I'll pay you eighteen fifty," Finn says in agreement. "Are you sure you don't want $18.55? Or better still, $18.59? It's more money and even more specific."

"I'm not that materialistic," I reply again. "Eighteen fifty is enough."

"Right," Finn mutters to himself, sounding a little like he was having a harder time believing that each time I said it.

Seemingly exhausted from our conversation and my combative mood, Finn chooses to lean against the railing and focus on the game instead.

We continue like this in silence for a few minutes before I hear Finn quietly murmur to himself, "I have no idea what is going on."

I tear my eyes away from the chaotic sight of little children scrambling for balls and running past the marked bases, watching Finn's face twist in concentration as he tries to figure out the game.

"Is it like rounders, except the bowler doesn't actually throw the ball? What's the objective of the game?"

Something about the serious look on his face makes my lips twitch with a smile. After watching him for a few seconds, quietly murmuring theories to himself and trying to feed logic to a sport that is anything but, I decide to put him out of his misery and enlighten him on the rules of T-ball.

"The main objective of the game is to have fun," I tell Finn. "At their age, keeping score isn't really all that important. It's about learning the fundamentals of baseball. You know, batting, running round the bases, catching."

Finn leans off the railing a little, angling himself to the side so he can take me in. "I don't really know the rules of baseball that well. Hayden tried to get me into it, but it all flew over my head."

"Hayd's not the best teacher — it doesn't help he's a bit of a fanatic when it comes to baseball," I say, with a hint of laughter in my tone. "I'll try to explain as simply as I can."

I take my time pointing out the various positions on the field and their baseball parallels, only pausing to answer the occasional follow-up question from Finn, or to loudly cheer Harry on when it's his turn to bat.

Before we know it, an hour passes and Harry's game concludes with the teams reciting the club's ethos to remind the kids about good sportsmanship.

As the crowds begin to thin out, I notice a familiar brown skinned boy at the other end of the bleachers and my eyes light up.

"Jay! Over here!" I eagerly wave to grab his attention.

Jay perks up at the sound of his name being called, glancing around until he spots me. His brown eyes soften as we make eye contact. He delivers a small wave as he leisurely walks over to where Finn and I are standing.