Chase Fitzgerald nodded and grinned as he looked back at Zak and gave the signal. High and tight. A brushback pitch—a head-high fastball meant to intimidate a batter and move him off the plate. Or in this case, he’s hoping I’ll hit Esteban or at least scare the shit out of him, Zak thought. Coaches weren’t supposed to be encouraging, or teaching, brushback pitches at the high school level. There was too great a chance of someone getting seriously injured. But Newell’s ethics were always questionable when it came to getting an edge on the competition. And in this case it was no surprise that he was calling for it against Esteban Gonzalez even though this was just practice. The coach’s previous efforts to chase the young man from the team had failed. Just three days after being cut by Chase Fitzgerald’s cleats, requiring twelve stitches in his leg, Esteban had walked back out on the field as if nothing had happened. And though it was obvious that his leg was hurting him and he was limping by the end of practice, he’d kept up on the drills.
