#batholomew allen ii

[corner-stories]

thrift store sluggers

Irey West. Bart Allen.

Baseball Bats. Gatorade. Thrifting.

1010 words.

(ao3.)

Bart was often placed on “Irey Duty,” which usually involved picking her up from school or baseball practice. On occasion he would chaperone her in gatherings of young heroes, and somewhat rarely he would be tasked with teaching her the tricks of the speed force trade. The day he taught her how to run on water was one he remembered fondly, as she spent the rest of the week referring to herself as “Speedster Jesus.”

But today was different. At a normal pace, the plucky speedster duo browsed the aisles of a Keystone City thrift store. The place was modestly sized and quite clean, a perfect treasure trove of random goodies just waiting to be found. It was somewhat crowded in the afternoon as the working class rifled around the place in search of good deals.

After walking amongst shelves and shelves of junk and knick-knacks, Bart and Irey come across the sports section.

They rummaged through random football pads and hockey sticks in search of anything that resembled baseball gear. Even though Irey was flourishing in Keystone’s Little League, she was tired of having to borrow bats from her teammates and wanted one on her own. Bart figured that thrifting one for her would cheer her up today, especially considering that he had to pick her up from after school detention.

He never did ask her how she got in trouble, but according to her teacher it had something to do with a bottle of red gatorade.

Soon enough, Bart discovered an aging Louisville Slugger in a barrel full of golf clubs. It was made of a chunk of maple that time forgot, but the price tag said ‘15$’ and it seemed to have a few more swings left in it.

“Yo, Irey! I found one!” Bart called out.

The little redhead scuffled towards her cousin. She eyed the bat, confused and unsure if it was a good fit for her.

Bart felt the weight of the Slugger in his hand. He had only seen a few of Irey’s games, but he could recall seeing her borrowing a bat of a similar size. The only difference was that said bat was made of aluminum and belonged to the largest kid on her team. Growth spurts in middle school were common, but Bart swore that Lita Roman was tall enough to pass for a high schooler. No wonder they let her play as catcher.

Irey often refused the offers of smaller bats, even by her coach. Perhaps she was just used to swinging with a bigger size, or maybe she was just very determined to prove that she was the strongest player and didn’t want to show any weakness. It could have been a bit of both.

“What size are you again?” asked Bart.

Irey shrugged as she took the bat in her hands. Almost immediately, she grasped it at the end and swung it with all her might.

Fortunately, she did not hit Bart. However, the bat just happened to strike a conveniently placed lacrosse ball just sitting on the shelves.

The plucky speedster duo could only stand and watch as the chunk of rubber flew from its stationary position and soared throughout the thrift store. It struck a wall and bounced off with a startlingly loud impact noise.

The other customers glanced over in shock as the ball descended down to the ground and landed in a basket of clothes near the changing room. Luck was on the side of the speedsters today, as the elderly lady working the cashier was conveniently napping as this all happened.

Irey’s eyes were wide and panicked when she glanced at her cousin again. Looking to him for guidance and advice was a common occurrence and Bart glaring like a deer in the headlights was even more so.

“Uh… okay, I guess we’re taking it,” Bart said, taking the Slugger from her hands. “My treat.”

Irey nodded quickly. “Okay. Can we stay here for a bit longer? I saw some old balls over there.”

It took all of Bart’s willpower to stifle a snicker. “Oh you betcha, sure.”

Irey grinned and happily skipped over to a large bin of miscellaneous sports junk. Most of them were depressingly deflated footballs and dodgeballs, but after rummaging around she managed to find some softballs and baseballs. It would be good to have a few around for practice, especially since her Little League coach had deemed Irey as “Official Back-Up Pitcher,” her killer curveball bringing her to glory.

As Irey gathered a bunch of old balls into her arms, Bart walked over with the old Slugger resting upwards against his shoulder.

“So… mind telling me why you got detention today?” he asked idly. “Did you like… pour gatorade all over a desk or something?”

Irey pursed her lips into a line and she focused only on the old bin of balls. “Do you know Linus Petzler?”

Bart nodded. “Yeah, the little shit in your gym class?”

Irey huffed. “He started tugging on girl’s ponytails during class. The teacher told him to stop but he kept doing it.”

“So you… threw gatorade at him?” Bart tried, confused.

Irey shook her head and stared her cousin straight in the eye. “No — at lunch all the girls were still mad at him, so we poured red gatorade all over a tampon and I chucked it at his table. It hit him in the face, so all the boys screamed and ran away and I took the fall for my classmates.” She spoke with a kind of honorable pride in her voice, as if she did a noble thing in order to protect the most vulnerable ones in the world.

Moments passed and Bart could only stare at her in shock. He wasn’t sure whether to fear Irey or respect her. Somehow, he managed an awkward chuckle and patted her on the shoulder.

“Well, girls will be girls,” he said with a joking grin. He gave her right arm an affectionate squeeze. “At least you’re using your powers for good.”