A hornet's nest

      The summer of 1981. June 4th.       The weather was wonderful, suitable for walking and playing outdoors. The sun was shining brightly and a cool breeze was blowing. Baseball bases were being set up on the school field, and Epiosia High School was playing against a school from a neighboring town near Frankfort, Kentucky. Elvis Brown Jr. stood near the stands, nervously biting his lips while waiting for his friends. A red-haired curly-haired guy of about fifteen with a medium build, whose whole face was covered with freckles and a lively blush, had already put on his red uniform and was holding an aluminum baseball bat in his right hand.        — Qué carajo, Vic? — He screamed and ran towards two tall guys older than him. — Dónde demonios estás? Fifteen minutes to the match!        — Fifteen, Al, is not so little, — shrugged Victor Scritcher, a tall guy of seventeen with dark hair, which, apparently, he may not wash for months. Under the nose, the recently shaved thin mustache begins to grow again.        — Where have you been? — Elvis asked, shifting the handle of the bat from one hand to the other.        —We saw Jeff off, — Vic answered.        — Where?        — A two-week science camp, remember?        — Pesadilla, Did Jeff trade “Slackers” for scientific losers? — Elvis was scanning the field, looking for someone with his eyes. — Is Senorita Rachel coming?        —No, — said a dark-skinned guy with dreadlocks and a thick build resembling a barrel, about the same age as Victor, named Neil Garden. — My sister went to her friends, I think.        — Will she miss the match? — Elvis lowered his head in disappointment.        — Don’t worry, we’ll find you a new girlfriend, look! — Vic pointed his finger at a girl from high school, who immediately turned away as the guy looked at her. — Stacy Rogle, she’s been staring at you for ten minutes, like she’s looking at your tight ass.        — Vete a la mierda, — Al pointedly stuck two fingers in his mouth, about to vomit. — Stacey’s not my type.        — Whatever you say, — Scritcher shrugged and headed for the stands with Neal.       The beginning of the game. The first defense was played by the Epiosia High School team, the attacker was the same team from a school near Frankfort. The pitcher of the home team takes his place on the pitcher’s mound, holding a small ball covered with white leather in his hand, and the batter of the guest team stands next to the house.        — So, dear friends! — the sonorous voice of the headmaster of Epiosia High School, Mr. Dark, a heavyset middle-aged man with a round bald spot on top of his head, sounded, — today the baseball season opens with a day named in his honor. There are two pretty famous Kentucky high school teams on the field today! Epiosia High School and Lawrenceburg High School, dear friends, let’s welcome them! The players are already in place, well, let’s not keep them waiting! So a pitcher named Leon Dylan throws the ball towards the house, a batter named Max Iron takes aim and hits the ball!       The ball is flying into the field. The batter immediately throws the bat and runs towards 1st base, becoming a runner for the duration of the run. Leon rushed after the ball, trying to grab it and throw it to the man from the defense team standing on 1st base, thereby arranging a ground-out for the player of the attacking team.        — Pitcher Dylan picked up the ball, which, apparently, batter Iron hit without using much force! It’s a shame, isn’t it, Lawrenceburg High School? — Mr. Dark laughed, albeit rather hoarsely, looking around the stands where the fans of the visiting team were sitting. — Oh, what’s going on! Oh my God! Dylan threw the ball to his team’s first baseman before the Iron reached him! The referee announces a ground-out! Max Iron leaves the playing field.       There is a change of batter. Pitcher Dylan throws the ball again, this time trying to throw it in the strike zone so that the ball flies over the house at a height from the knees to the batter’s chest in order to put the visiting team out again if the batter ignores the correctly thrown ball. But no. William Johnson hit the ball, and it flew quite far into the field, only Dylan looked at it, wondering if he could keep up with it? While the pitcher was in his thoughts, the batter had already reached 1st base and became a runner.        — Johnson reaches 1st base before he hits out, that’s well… well…       The runner has touched first base, the second runner from his team, ousted by the first, runs to 2nd base. Dylan looked for the ball, which landed not far from the 3rd base, going behind it. Leon rushed to him, picked him up, but did not have time to throw it to the player of his team, who was on 2nd base, the runner reached it. A player of his team stood in front of the pitcher, guarding the 3rd base, the guy threw the ball to him.        — And Lawrenceburg High School is back in ground-out! — Mr. Dark said.       Change of batter. Dylan grins in anticipation of taking the next batter out in no more than 5 minutes. He swung and threw the ball.        — So, the pitcher throws the ball and batter Black hits it, and, oh no! The ball is flying too low! Haha! The director guffawed. — Dylan caught the ball, the referee calls a fly-out. The Lawrenceburg High School team got three outs, the teams are changing. The home team plays defense, the away team plays offense.       Elvis took up his position next to the house. The Lawrenceburg High School Crown pitcher stood on the pitcher’s mound, preparing to pitch the ball.        — Listo para morir, amigo? — Brown smiled, Crown, not understanding anything, threw the ball. He flew and, slightly inflating, left the strike zone, Al ignored him, shouting, — Si lo haces, tu madre te recogerá en las zanjas!        — What did he say? — Crown shouted to Mr. Dark across the field, hope he heard. — If this jerk threatens me…        — What is it? what? — Elvis threw the bat away, heading towards the pitcher. — What, a mamá corres llorando?        — And can you speak English, you… — Brown pushed him in the shoulder, everyone in the stands gasped in admiration, the baseball season has never opened like this. — How dare you, you stinking Spanish trash.        — And you dare to insult my father’s Spanish roots, pedazo de mierda! If we weren’t at school, te destrozaría y te haría lamer mi culo.        — Guys, please, let’s resolve everything peacefully!.. — Headmaster Dark came down to the field and stood between the guys. — Well, look, the weather is so good today, and the mood is great, let’s not spoil it for anyone… — the man looked hopefully at the joyful stands, which literally shouted “FIGHT!”. — Mr. Brown, I have to disqualify you.        — Senor Dark, why? No es mi culpa que este cerdo americano se meta en sus asuntos!        — Elvis, — the man took the guy by the shoulder and took him aside. — We have never had friendly relations with Lawrenceburg.… Eh, and I also played baseball when I was your age… — he looked dreamily at the sky, plunging into memories, but quickly moved away. — Elvis, you are, of course, a good player, but for your behavior, I still have to replace you with Dean.        — Larry Dean? — Brown asked, then covered his face with his hands. — Dios mío, ayúdame, le crecen las manos por el culo!        — Mr. Brown, one more word… — The headmaster Dark threateningly put out his index finger, but Elvis, while the man was distracted for just a second, ran towards the pitcher of the opposing team. Crown was calmly standing at the bench of reserve players and drinking water from a bottle, only out of the corner of his eye he noticed a guy rushing at him and before he knew it, he was already on the ground, and the batter was hitting him in the face with his fist with all his might. — What the fuck, Elvis!        — Así es, perra americana, — Al’s face broke into a smile, and the stands cheered. The Lawrenceburg team tried to help their comrade somehow, but they were afraid to even get closer. — Has dicho algo sobre mi familia? Repite!        — Hey, stupid, that’s enough! Crown shouted underneath him, trying to get out. Elvis, though thin, but wiry, will put down anyone he wants. Somehow, the pitcher was able to throw off Brown. — Didn’t your mom teach you how to communicate normally with your peers? Or do you make friends with your fists too? Mom obviously didn’t take good care of herself.…        — Cómo te atreves, hijo de puta? — Elvis lunged at Crown again as soon as he mentioned his mother.        — Okay, that’s enough! — Mr. Dark stood between them, panting from a short run. — Mr. Crown and Mr. Brown are disqualified. Both. No exceptions.        — Nos vemos, amigo, — Elvis said, wiping the blood from under his nose with his sleeve, after all, that idiot Crown hit him. The guy headed towards the locker room, where Scritcher was already waiting for him. — Shut up, I know myself, I’m a fool.        — Jeff and the other scientific losers were killed.