Page 43 (2/2)

We all nodded Baseball was sacred to us—the only thing more sacred was our friendship

Griffin placed the ball in the box as if it were lass

“Okay, who’s next?” I asked

“I’ll go” Moretti placed a brown paper bag on the table Fro from the Bellamy Creek Gazette about his record streak of stolen bases and a takeout menu from DiFiore’s, his favorite restaurant, which ned by his cousins Then he took out one of his senior portraits and added it to the box Not a small one, either—a five-by-seven

“Really, Moretti?” Griffin gestured to the photo “A big picture of yourself?”

“Hey, I happen to think I look good in this shot What if I go bald or so? I’ll want to look back and re hair And cheekbones” He placed the picture in the box

Laughing, I shook otistical, but you couldn’t ask for a more loyal friend I’d miss him I’d miss them all

“And I also have a picture of us, so piss off” He took out a snapshot of the four of us after one of our last gahteen-year-olds in ball caps and dirty unifor at the camera He added it to the box and looked across the table “Cole? Want to go next?”

“Okay” Cole opened up a large Ziplock bag and took out a folded sheet of paper “Our baseball tea it in the box “And I have the ball froned and dated it”

“Such a good fucking ga Cole’s back “That’s the best I’ve ever seen you pitch Man, I’ames”

“Me too,” I said, hating the hollowed-out feeling in ain?”

“Hell yes” Moretti guffawed “We’ll be like those old dudes who cohts every summer with their beer bellies and rickety old knees”

We all laughed too, unable to iuts and stiff joints

The last thing Cole placed in the box was a photo of all of us with our dates the night of our senior proirlfriend, Trisha; Griffin had taken a girl he’d been dating on and off since Christmas; Moretti had taken his flavor of the irl I wish I could have asked—Maddie Blake—was off limits