What the Mound Took

I opened another browser tab and signed into the KinetiSense dashboard. The April session records were still there. I printed the page with the red warning about dangerous elbow mechanics, and the time showing when Diane had dismissed it herself.

I gathered the pages and left her office, heading down to the garage. My hands felt unsteady around the paper, but I kept walking.

The garage held the day’s heat. Motor oil and sawdust hung in the air. Tom stood at his workbench, looking down at a lawnmower carburetor in pieces. He had been acting as if he might repair it for two days. He looked worn out. What had happened in my bedroom had taken years off him.

He heard me come in but kept his eyes on the parts. “I’m ordering lunch, Jules. Want turkey?”

“Dad.”

I moved beside him and laid the pages over the greasy pieces. He stopped and looked at the top sheet.

After wiping his palms on a shop towel, he picked up the email draft. His eyes moved along the lines. Minor arm fatigue. Full-speed pitching by the start of August. His jaw set hard.

“She wrote this today?” he asked.

“About an hour ago. She left for the store after.”

I shifted the draft aside so he could see the KinetiSense record beneath it.

“This is the April session,” I said. My voice came out low. “The system flagged my elbow as high risk. The warning said the strain was in the red, and the gray line at the bottom shows she dismissed it.”

Tom bent closer to the sheet. He read the timestamp, then the name beside it. The color seemed to drain from his face.

He had always known Diane could be relentless about training and numbers. He had told himself it came from wanting the best for me, even when her methods went too far. Seeing the warning and her choice to clear it made that explanation impossible to hold on to.

He lowered the pages onto the workbench. No shouting, no sudden movement. He braced both hands against the edge and bowed his head. His shoulders lifted with a rough breath, then fell.

“I’m sorry, Julian,” he said quietly. “I should have stopped this sooner. I’m sorry I let it get this far.”

“I don’t want to play in August,” I said. “And I don’t want her laser therapy.”

“You won’t have to do either.” Something firm had entered his voice. He gathered the pages, folded them carefully, and slipped them into his pocket. “Go wait in the living room.”

I went back inside and sat on the sofa. The house felt too quiet. My pulse kept knocking against my ribs as I waited.

About twenty minutes later, the garage door began to rise. Diane’s SUV rolled in.

I heard the trunk open, then bags rustling. Tom’s boots crossed the concrete floor.

“Could you get the oranges?” Diane called, trying for a normal tone. “The clinic in Dallas said citrus helps with inflammation. I thought we could make fresh juice in the morning—”

“Leave the groceries in the car, Diane,” Tom said.

There was a pause. “Why? The milk will get warm.”

“Come into the kitchen.”

The door between the garage and the house shut. Their steps carried them into the kitchen. I couldn’t see them from the sofa, but every word traveled clearly through the house.

“What’s going on, Tom?” Diane asked. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

A set of papers landed on the kitchen island with a soft thump.

“I read the message you drafted for Miller,” Tom said. His voice was calm, without the fury I had heard days earlier. It sounded final. “Julian showed me the KinetiSense warnings you dismissed in April.”

The kitchen went still. Even from the living room, I could hear the refrigerator humming.

“Tom, those were only ideas,” she said. Her voice had gone thin. “I hadn’t sent anything. I was trying to plan ahead in case he could be ready for the fall.”

“I sent it,” he said, cutting her off.

A quick, startled breath came from Diane. “You did what?”

“Ten minutes ago, I used your draft as the basis for a revised email to Miller,” Tom replied. “I told him Julian has a serious Grade 2 UCL tear, and I attached Dr. Vance’s evaluation. I also withdrew Julian from summer and fall eligibility.”

“You can’t do that!” she shouted. Her voice cracked through the house. “You’ve wrecked his chance to meet people and get noticed. You’ve given Carter the varsity opportunity instead!”

“Diane,” Tom said, but she rushed on, panic overtaking whatever she had been trying to hide.

“You’ve thrown away Julian’s varsity spot and years of networking!”