July (The Year of The Change Book 1) (18 page)

Actually I did kind of like Malcolm. I wasn't going to tell anyone. He didn’t seem as mean as the other two. I liked the way he was too shy to approach me at the pond, a teddy bear -- almost. I would like to have gotten to know him if it hadn’t been for his friends. Well, and The Change, too. It was true what Gram used to say about friends. ‘
Good friends will pull you up. Bad friends will drag you down.
’

Jimmy settled on the grass in front of me. “If they don’t come by here, we’re still stuck seeing them at the game tonight.”

Rob helped himself to another cookie and sat on the steps. He tried to shoo Bandit, who sat between us. With me holding tight and petting him the solid dog didn’t budge. Rob gave up and stroked Bandit’s fur as I did. He was affected. I was very careful not to get my hand anywhere close to his, which was difficult because he kept moving his closer to mine.

I gave up and put my hands in my lap. “Why will we see them tonight?”

“They’re on the other team. Cameron will be as cocky as ever since they’re rated number one.” He stared at his hands, deep in thought.

It looked as though his confidence was shaken. His usually sunny assurance was clouded over and I wished I could think of a way to brighten his mood. The only thing that made Jimmy's mood better was the fact that Cameron and his buddies didn’t show up.

I really did try to convince my father to let me stay at the house. He said he would feel more comfortable where he could see me. Even Aunt Betty agreeing with me didn’t get him to change his mind. This whole thing was crazy. Had he already forgotten the Kansas track team? Or, how could he forget the hundreds of other incidents from the last six months? I sighed and got into the minivan, unable to talk him out of this insanity. I knew in my bones, like Gram used to say, this was a bad idea. I was as excited about going to a baseball game, full of boys, as I was about staying in a dark locked closet. The dark locked closet would’ve made more sense.

After we parked at the ball field, nestled among the dry rolling fields, Dad put his arm around Sue and took my hand. Aunt Betty walked on my other side, while the twins rushed ahead to save us good seats.

It was a little awkward holding my father’s hand. I was too old to be led around by an adult, and he didn’t usually touch me at all, unless there was an emergency. Knowing he kept me close so he could protect me made me feel special.

The twins found us enough room on the third and fourth rows of the bleachers. This put us behind Jimmy’s team, near home plate. Jimmy, in a white uniform with red trim, beamed and waved from the field, where his team warmed up. My hand was up before I remembered to keep a low profile. I folded in on myself and sat with a thump. A quick scan of the crowd told me I hadn’t been spotted yet. Is it really so much to ask to be left alone so I can watch the ballgame? One should never ask stupid questions because you usually get stupid answers.

Beside the chain link fence, that surrounded the field, Rob stood staring at us. The thought probably wasn’t too far off the mark to believe he stared at me. It wasn’t something I wanted to think about. I didn't let my eyes linger on his frown as his very presence frightened me. Gone was his smile and laughter from lunch time. Gone was my attraction to him. That was a good thing.

The aroma from the concession stand had my mouth watering. My stomach wanted me to rush over and push my way to the front of the line and order two of everything on the menu. It growled viciously when I refused because I was too afraid to leave my bodyguard. It didn’t understand why I wouldn’t suck it up and feed it.

Dad hugged my shoulders. "I'll go to the concession stand in a little bit when the line gets shorter." He grinned at me. "Don't worry, I brought lots of cash."

My stomach purred. "Thanks, Dad." That put an end to the war and my stomach grumbled in defeat.

As I fidgeted in my seat, I searched the crowd, looking for anyone who might be affected. The wind blew at me so I glanced behind. There were just older people on the benches above us. They only gave cursory glances at the
strangers
. So far, so good. I looked under the bleaches to find a boy, with a buzzed head standing in the shadows, staring at me. He looked confused.

I tugged on my father’s sleeve and whispered. “There’s a boy under us.”

Dad turned part way then straightened. “It’s just one. Let me know if he touches you.” It’s getting bad when
only
one
doesn’t concern him.

Nodding, I dragged my attention to the field, where I saw Jimmy trotting to the dugout. The game would start soon. Again, I looked around. Rob wasn’t anywhere near the dugout. The need to know where he was, at all times, banged on my head. Afraid of what he might do I searched for his imposing figure.

There was a muffled ‘oomph’ and I looked under the bleachers where it came from. Rob had the affected boy by the back of his t-shirt and was dragging him out from under us. He pushed the teenager over to the other team’s bleachers, his hand still gripping a big wad of the boy’s shirt. When he was firmly seated next to a couple that I’d assumed were his parents, Rob returned to the chain link fence that encased the field, by Jimmy’s dugout. He never once looked up at me. Relieved the boy wasn’t under the stands anymore, I slowed my breathing. Though, the wrath, that forced the removal of the boy, shot a thrill of fear through my stomach. What would happen if he really got angry?

My dad, who’d seen everything, turned to me and relaxed. Aunt Betty looked toward the dugout with a smile on her face. Had she seen what Rob did or was she just smiling at her grandson who warmed up in the batters’ on-deck area.

The bleachers were calm again with no boys near. If I just stuck close to my dad, I could get through this. I forced myself to breath normally. I had to admit, I’m a bit delusional at times.

Fear kept my eyes returning to Rob often, not knowing what he might do next. When he looked at me I forced my attention in another direction. I scanned the other side of the field to see if I could pick out Cameron and his friends among the black and white uniforms. Those three boys were already affected. I would have to especially watch out for them. Once affected, it only builds from there. I was too nervous to take the time to pick anyone out of the crowd of guys throwing the ball around on the far side of the field. I gave up and peeked over to make sure Rob was still by the dugout. He was.

A couple about the age of my dad came up the bleachers and stood beside me. He smiled at my father, then looked down at Aunt Betty. “Hi Mom … man, Len, I would recognize you anywhere. You haven’t changed much.” The tall light brown-haired man put his hand out.             

“Jon?” Dad stood and grasped his hand. “You sure have changed. What happened to your baby face? It couldn’t be that many years, could it?”

“Over twenty. Can you believe it?”

“Wow … have a seat.”

As they sat I couldn’t stop staring at them and turned my head back and forth between the two men. Other than their hair color, they could’ve been brothers.

"Sue, this is my cousin Jon, Jimmy's dad."

When Jon leaned forward, I leaned back so he could more easily speak to my parents. I bumped into a knee that hadn't been there a moment ago. Looking back, a boy about my age smiled broadly. Affected. Oh great! How would I get away from this one? The bleachers were filled up. I couldn’t just trade with Dad, I would have to trade with Sue, too. This wouldn’t be so bad, except for the two boys who sat next to her. They leaned around her to look at me with silly smiles and glazed eyes.

“Len, this is my wife, Julie.” He indicated the pretty blonde woman beside him.

Dad reached over and shook her hand. “It’s nice to know there’s someone selfless enough to marry this punk.” He winked at Julie, who laughed.

The boy behind me moved his hand and I slapped it. Dad looked back at the affected boy and gave him the ‘Kennin eye’. The eye that made most people, kids in particular, shake with fear. The boy retracted his hand and leaned all the way back against an older couple behind him and crossed his arms over his chest.

Jon watched the exchange, as he cleared his throat. “You've met my son, Jimmy. Our daughter is here somewhere …” He looked around. “Down there, on the first row.” His brow furrowed as a nice-looking boy approached a girl who must’ve been his daughter. Her friends scooted over to make room for him. “That’s Sheila and she’s fifteen.” He huffed as the crease in his brow deepened.

A sigh wheezed through my head. Everyone had a boyfriend, but me. Life is so unfair.

“She’s very pretty.” Dad smiled. He had to be relieved at not having a daughter who was pretty. Little did he know he was going to have all kinds of problems when Tam got older.

Jon huffed. “Yeah, too pretty.”

Dad squeezed my shoulders. “This is my daughter, Sylvia.” I shook their hands. “My wife, Sue.” Sue waved at them. Dad put his hands on the twins’ heads. “These two ruffians are the twins, Tim …” He indicated Tam and she scowled at him. “And this is Tam.”

Tim huffed. “I’m not Tam.”

Dad laughed. “Oh, that’s right.” He turned to Jon. “I’m always getting them mixed up.”

I liked that he didn’t call them his step kids. He was dad to them and it made them happy. I hated when Sue introduced me as her stepdaughter. It always made me feel even less a part of the family, always a few
steps
behind, and always looking from the outside.

The adults chatted while the teams took the field. The boy behind me moved his knee to my back and slid it back and forth. I’d had enough and leaned all the way forward putting my elbows on my knees and propping my head in my hands. The adults could talk over me. I looked again for the troublesome trio.

In the opposing team’s dugout sat Cameron with two other boys that looked too young to be playing with these older guys. I laughed to myself. Cocky Cameron was benched with the younger boys. I wondered whether he was one of those that were on the injured list or if he just wasn’t a very good player.

Adam stood on the pitcher’s mound. It was hard not to notice him, with his long, skinny limbs he looked like a rope doll as he warmed up with the catcher.

Equally hard not to notice was Malcolm standing next to third base throwing the ball around the infield. He was more muscular than the other boys, filling out his uniform.
Too bad he had the friends he did.

Except for the panting boy behind me, I felt pretty secure sitting between my dad and his cousin, Jon. This wasn’t too bad, maybe I would get to enjoy the game after all. The pleasant thought flitted through my head as the ump called, "
Batter up
!"

The first batter stepped to the plate and hefted his bat with confidence.

A hand grasped my ankle firmly. I jumped, barely holding back a scream.

“Dad someone has my ankle!” My voice was louder than the whisper I’d intended.

My father reached down and pried the boy’s fingers away while Jon squinted to see under the seat, not sure what was going on. When my ankle was free I put my feet on the seat in front of me and poked Aunt Betty with my shoe. She turned and watched the commotion under us, not reacting to my foot. The hand kept trying for me and Dad kept swatting it.

Jon finally had a good angle and saw who was under me. “Trevor Pruitt, get out from under there before I tell your father!”

The hand disappeared.

“Thanks, Jon.” I wanted to hug him.

Looking past my small bubble of almost safe space, I realized our stands were much more crowded. Mostly with boys, of course.

The boy behind me shoved another, older, boy away. He looked as though he wanted to throttle the perceived interloper.

A crack of a bat and the people all around me stood to get a better look. I didn’t see what happened as I watched the fight behind me build. Their faces reddened and the scowls deepened with each shove. Leery of the tussle, I didn't dare look away.

The older boy lost his temper and punched the first boy soundly in the mouth. The younger boy glanced at me as he wiped blood from his lip. He lunged at the older boy and they broke into an all-out brawl. Someone’s foot hit me in the back of the head. Instinctively, I recoiled from the fracas ending up crouched on my feet. Aunt Betty held me steady, protecting my head. Sue held the twins in her shielding embrace.

Dad, Jon, and two other men broke the boys up and hauled them out of the stands. The boys continued to swing at each other. The older boy was dragged to his parents in the visitor’s stands, the younger to a couple seated in lawn chairs to the other side of our bleachers. What a shock it must’ve been for the parents when their sons were delivered bruised and bloody. I should wrap myself in yellow caution tape.

The men returned and stared at me as they took their seats.

Jon shook his head. “Wow I’ve never seen that happen before. Paul and Steven are usually good kids.”

Seated on the bench, I rubbed the sore spot on my scalp and felt sorry for the boys.

“How’s your head, Sylv?” Dad put his arm around me.

“It’s okay.” I lied.

No use going into the fact that I now had a headache on top of everything else that was going on. It would only ruin the game for everyone else. I could tough this out. No need to disappoint my dad.

An averaged sized young man with a slender build came up to Jon and Julie, while I tried again to watch the game. The teams had traded field position.

The young man squeezed in beside Julie. “Hello, Mrs. Stuart, Mr. Stuart.”

Jon barely acknowledged the young man.

However Julie was nice to him. “Hello Brandon, how’s your mother?”

“Oh she’s much better now. Thank you for asking.” He sure was polite. More so, he was preoccupied with glancing at me. Great.

The other team was up to bat and the score was two to one, their favor. I’d missed all the action.

My eyes stayed on the field, as I kept tabs on everything in my peripheral. I forgot about under the stands until a hand, once again, was on my ankle.

“
Batter up!”

This one was quicker. He pulled my foot under before I could alert anyone. I grabbed Dad and Jon as I was yanked off the seat. A scream erupted as my knee hit the walk-way where my feet had just been. I should’ve worn jeans to protect my complaining knee that slammed against the metal boards. I could feel a bruise blooming on my scrapped shin.

Dad and Jon grabbed my arms just as my other foot was pulled off, as well. I looked under to see a husky boy pulling on my ankles trying to get me all the way down. I knew I shouldn’t have come. Now I was being pulled under by an affected boy and everyone in the stands stared.

Rob appeared at the affected boy's side and knocked him down. The boy, unwilling to let go, still clutched an ankle as he fell, which wrenched my left knee. I screamed in pain. Rob knocked two more guys down and the three others, which I hadn’t noticed before, scattered.

The two cousins pulled me up and sat me on the bench. I grabbed my knee and rocked.

Dad sat beside me, “Sylv, are you okay?” and stroked my hair.

Not saying anything, I shook my head as I tried uselessly to keep the tears in. The tears weren’t all from the pain of my knee. Some were from the pain of being forced into this situation. I knew I would end up as the weird girl that everyone would gossip about for the next year. Why wouldn’t my father listen to me?

Brandon appeared at my side with a bag of ice. I looked up through my wet lashes to see his concerned face. He seemed nice-- a little old for me, pleasant, all the same.

“Thank you,” I squeaked out.

Jon snatched the bag from him. What was Jon’s problem? Brandon was just being nice. Jon put the ice on my knee. It was cold and leaked drops of water that rolled under and dripped onto the walkway.

I looked at my dad. “Can I go sit in the van … please?” My voice broke at the end.

Dad nodded. He kept hoping I could be normal. I was always disappointing him.

Brandon put his arms out. “I’ll carry her.”

He would’ve picked me up if Jon hadn’t put his arm across the young man’s chest and glowered at him. “We don’t need your help Brandon, back off.” Venom oozed from Jimmy’s dad.

His voice implied a very interesting story behind that anger, too bad I was too upset to ask.

Dad picked me up and carefully stepped down the stands as people moved out of the way. I blushed neon as everyone stared. Yep, I would be the center of gossip. I wondered how inflated it would become. It wouldn't matter because I would never see them again, anyway … on purpose.

When I’d screamed, the game halted, so everyone knew or craned their necks to see what happened.

Adam, on the pitcher’s mound, recognized me and waved, “Hi, Sylvia!”

Halfheartedly, I waved back, and tried to hide my face with the other hand. Now everyone knew my name, too. I would always be the weird girl, Sylvia, who visited the widow Stuart and disrupted a baseball game that no one would ever forget. Unfortunately, it won’t be because of the stellar athletes and exceptional plays.

Jon helped by walking with us to shoo away the boys. His efforts were wasted because no sooner had he shooed one group, another took its place, with the first group falling in behind the second. By the time we reached the van at the far end of the lot, there were a dozen boys following as though Dad were the Pied Piper. I guessed that would make me the pipe.

I wanted to find a hole to crawl into. If my luck was good, the ground would’ve swallowed me. My luck was never good.

Dad helped me into the van while Jon kept the boys at bay. With my good leg I maneuvered into the back seat where I put my hurt knee straight out and the bag of ice on top. The bag’s small leak grew. I didn’t mention it, it wasn't important enough to bring up under the circumstances.

“I’ll go get the others and be right back.” Dad looked so disappointed.

I didn't want to let him down, again today. “No, Dad. You go enjoy the game, I’m fine. I’ll just sit here and relax. I don’t want everyone to miss out.”

“I’m not leaving you here alone.” There were deep creases between his brows, and guilt whopped me a big one for putting them there.

“Just lock the doors, I’ll be fine.” Whether I would be fine or not, I wasn’t going to spoil this for him.

A cheer went up and both men jerked their heads toward the game they were missing. Dad hesitated. Wanting to see the action won out in the end, and he agreed. I heard the locks pop down and watched Dad and Jon herd the boys back to the stands.

Sigh. I still wasn’t convinced The Change was worth all this.