The fence rattled as Averil wedged the toe of his battered Converse into the opening of the links, being sure not to listen to the plea of his palpating hear to look down as he clambered several feet off the ground. When he reached the top he swung his legs over the side, eyes squeezed shut and fingers gripping the warm, metal railing. Inhaling through his nose, he held the air in his lungs for several racing heartbeats and then slowly exhaled through his mouth. The sun, now slightly off center in the sky and dipping lower, warmed the bare skin of his pale neck, sweat, though not from heat, gathering there above the collar of his blue-checkered button-down. He always hated this part, and yet, for reasons he never could understand, he chose this over climbing down the fence in the same way he had scaled it. Every single time.
Little by little, he scooted himself to the edge until there was nothing left to hold him up and he slid down the side of the fence. A rush of wind blew back the wildly tousled strands of pale blonde hair, the chain links grazing against his back. But, for a few glorious seconds, it felt as though he were flying, and nothing else, not even the incessant worries that plagued his mind, seemed to matter.
The ground met his feet with an unyielding harshness, a cloud of dust bursting into the air around him. He coughed, his legs wobbling, rubbing the tiny, burning grains of dirt from his eyes. After a moment of rapid blinking, he threw his gaze around the vast, empty space. The grass, like toasted bread, had been cooked to a deep golden brown, though there were some shoots of green scattered about that sprouted up like desert geysers. Further down loomed the stadium with several rows of blue bleachers, on off-white awning casting it all in shade, and he made his way over there, hands buried in the pockets of his dark gray jeans. He came to home plate, now half-hidden by a circle of weeds, and stepped on it as he passed. Going through the small entryway, Averil climbed the steps until he reached the highest row and sat in the edge seat, releasing the tension from his shoulders with a sigh. He tilted his head back, shut his eyes, and listened to the crack of a bat slamming against the oncoming ball, wondering just what type of exhilaration the audience felt as the batter ran on and on.