Page 39 of Beyond the Rainbow (Pride Camp 2025 #11)
The First Move
F riday
The Thunder Bats held their lead and locked in a four-to-one victory.
It should’ve been a celebration, but it wasn’t, and as both teams trudged off the field, an uneasy silence settled over the campground.
The weight of what had happened earlier was still with them, becoming a quiet wedge that kept the two squads far, far apart.
At the cookout, the rancor was apparent. Camp Pride kids clustered near one set of picnic tables, and Timber Ridge campers grouped at another. The usual post-game teasing, triumph, and commiseration buzz was nowhere to be found. It was uncomfortable, and it was heartbreaking.
Standing near the grill, Colin and Marshal Tate watched in silence.
Tate let out a slow breath. “This is bad.”
Colin glanced toward the Timber Ridge group, eyes narrowing slightly when he spotted Eric hovering near the edge of his team, looking downcast and miserable. “Someone’s gotta make the first move.”
Tate nodded. “Give me a minute.” He moved to Eric’s side and led him away from the picnic area. For several minutes, he spoke, a hand resting on his player’s shoulder. Although Eric’s eyes were on the ground, he nodded as he listened.
Finally, Tate took a step back and extended his hand. Eric lifted his head and met his coach’s eyes, then took Tate’s hand and offered a firm handshake. The boy blew out a long breath and walked back to the group, head high.
He paused at the edge of the picnic area, the Timber Ridge kids watching him with cautious curiosity while the Camp Pride team observed with a hint of suspicion. Yet, Eric didn’t falter. He lifted his chin, squared his shoulders, and moved to stand beside Colin.
He looked at the Camp Pride group, and his fingers curled into fists, but he drew in a breath and forced them to relax. When he spoke, his voice was low but steady. “I was out of line before.” He swallowed hard and added, “What I said—it was wrong. I shouldn’t have said it.”
Silence. Some of the Thunder Bats exchanged glances. Lucas’s jaw tightened, and Alex folded his arms. Eric’s earlier apology was a frightened response to his coach’s demand. But this was different. This was a decision he made, not one forced upon him.
Colin didn’t speak, choosing to let the moment breathe, studying Eric carefully. After a quiet moment, he nodded. “You’re right. You shouldn’t have.”
Eric glanced up, bracing himself, expecting to be dressed down in front of the entire camp.
Colin’s voice remained firm but kind. “Standing here, in front of everyone, admitting that? Took guts, and you earned my respect.” He placed a hand on Eric’s shoulder, giving it a gentle squeeze.
“But here’s the thing, kid—owning up to a mistake, that’s only half the equation.
What matters more is that you understand why it was wrong. ” His grip tightened. “ Do you ?”
Eric stared into Colin’s eyes, then he lowered his head, nodding. “It’s wrong to call someone names,” he stammered. “That’s being a bully.” He slowly met Colin’s eyes, his own shining with tears. “I don’t want to be a bully.”
Colin turned toward his team, his hand firm on Eric’s shoulder. “An apology has been offered, gentlemen. What do you say?”
Alex was the first to speak. He took a step forward. “I don’t like what you said. But Colin’s right. Took balls to admit you were wrong.”
Lucas exhaled, then shrugged. “It’s over. Let’s forget it.”
But before the moment could settle, a voice cut through the hushed air. “ Wait ! Wait a second!”
Every head turned as Aaron pushed his way through the crowd, his face haggard, his eyes shining with unshed tears. He stopped next to Alex, swiping a trembling hand across his face before drawing in a ragged breath.
“I have something to say, too.” His voice wavered, but he stood his ground.
He turned to Alex, his throat tight as he tried to find the right words.
“I said some awful things to you the other day. I was trying to show off, trying to be a hotshot, but I wasn’t.
I was a dick. And because of what I said, you ran off.
And Colin …” He shook the tears from his eyes, his voice breaking. “Colin got hurt because of me .”
Colin took a half step forward, instinct demanding that he stop Aaron and comfort him. But something held him back. No. Let the kid speak.
Aaron’s fingers clenched at his sides. “It’s not right that Eric gets called out while I don’t.
God, I wish so much that I could take it back.
Fix it so Colin didn’t get hurt. But I can’t.
And I feel fucking awful about it!” His voice broke, and he blinked rapidly, struggling to compose himself.
“I wish I hadn’t done it. And I swear, I’ll never do it again.
” His eyes flicked up to Alex’s. “I’m sorry, man. I really, really am.”
The tension in the air changed—it wasn’t gone, but it was no longer suffocating. There was a crack in the wall, a moment of possibility.
Alex stared at Aaron, his expression unreadable.
Then, slowly, he let out a breath and shook his head.
“What you said hurt a lot.” He swallowed hard, his fingers twitching at his sides.
“I wanted to hate you for it.” He let the words settle.
“But the truth is … I’ve said things I wish I could take back, too.
And if I hadn’t run off, Colin wouldn’t have had to chase me down and then get hurt.
” He shrugged, then looked Aaron straight in the eye.
“You messed up, but so did I.” His fist tapped Aaron’s shoulder. “We’re good.”
Aaron nodded and blew out a shaky breath. “Thanks, man.”
A murmur swept through the group, the hard lines of tension softening, morphing into relief.
Eric, standing beside Colin, gave a tight, uncertain nod.
Then, gathering his courage, he took a hesitant step forward and extended his hand toward Alex.
“Aaron’s not the only one who’s sorry,” he said, voice quiet but steady.
“I’m sorry too.” He glanced around him to where the Thunder Bat team stood, listening. “Hope you guys can forgive me.”
For a beat, Alex didn’t move. Then, slowly, he reached out and clasped Eric’s hand.
A ripple of surprise spread through the campers, Timber Ridge and Camp Pride alike. The tension wasn’t entirely gone, but the ice had cracked.
Colin let the moment settle before clapping his hands once.
“All right. We talk about sportsmanship all the time, and part of what that word means is being fair and generous in our treatment of others. We’ve just seen two brave young men own up to what they did and apologize.
” His eyes swept over his players. “What happens next is on us .”
Trent, sensing the moment was right, grabbed a baseball from the nearby equipment bag and tossed it in the air “Alright, so … we playing, or what ?”
Greyson’s brows furrowed. “Playing? Playing what ?”
Trent’s grin widened. “Mixed teams. Quick four-inning game. Timber Ridge and Camp Pride players on both sides.” He flicked a glance at Colin. “No coaches allowed.”
Colin grinned and eased his scooter backward, lifting both hands in surrender. “I’m out!” While Coach Tate waved his team forward. “Fine by me !”
At first, the players hesitated—but then, Mateo grabbed a bat and twirled it in his hand. “Let’s go!”
Alex nudged Aaron’s shoulder. “Come play!”
“But I’m not on the team!”
“Who cares?” Eric chimed in. “This is just for fun!”
And just like that, the ice shattered. Trent hand-picked the teams, mixing Timber Ridge and Thunder Bat players with more than a few campers thrown in, and they all trotted toward the field, grabbing gloves and pairing off in their new groups.
The laughter and eager shouts were already bubbling up.
Within moments, the first pitch was thrown, and the first crack of a bat sent them all running.
Colin, watching from the sidelines, leaned on his knee scooter, his arm draped around Joshua’s neck.
“You know what?” Joshua said, his head leaning against Colin’s arm. “This is the real victory.”
Colin exhaled, watching the players—and not just his, all of them—laughing, shouting, playing baseball.
He pressed a kiss to Joshua’s hair and murmured, “Yeah. It is.”
Trent’s four-inning game concluded with a score of two to one, but more importantly, it wrapped up with both sides, along with their spectators, laughing, bumping elbows, and forming friendships.
They returned to the picnic area and made short work of the burgers, hot dogs, and fries that Verdun’s cooks had provided.
And as the afternoon sun dipped toward the Blue Ridge Mountains, the campers drifted toward the campfire area for an evening under the stars.
Nate took out the box of prizes and started distributing them to the players chosen as winners by the coaches from both teams. Alex won MVP, a title he had more than earned with his sharp plays and relentless energy on the field.
Colin handed him the prize—a sleek, custom-engraved bat stating: Thunder Bats MVP – Camp Pride 2025, then ruffled his hair, grinning down at him. “Way to go, kid!”
Alex turned it over in his hands, letting the weight settle as he drew in a trembling breath.
His life to this point had not included approval, praise, or awards.
He was much more accustomed to anger, pain, and rejection.
But this? His grin faltered, then returned as he glanced toward his teammates, who were waving glow sticks and cheering.
His Timber Ridge opponents clapped in acknowledgment, whooping in approval of his well-earned reward.
And then … his gaze landed on Eric.