One True Thing (6 page)

“I do,” he says, reaching for his shirt on the floor and pulling it over his head. The mood has changed and it feels like he’s already gone. “Plus you have an early class in the morning, remember?”

I don’t care about class anymore. All I want to do is stay in bed with Ty all night and start over again when the sun comes up. “Right,” is all I say, knowing that pushing the issue is the wrong way to go. “At least you don’t have to go far.”

“Nope,” he says, running a hand over his head. “Don’t get up—I’ll let myself out.”

He leans over and kisses me again, and before I can reach out to pull him back down with me, he’s gone. I hear the front door close softly behind him and roll over and turn out the light. I keep my eyes open in the inky blackness trying to sort out my thoughts, because suddenly, it feels like I’ve made a terrible mistake.

Chapter Five (Ty)

I royally fucked up. I knew it before the whole thing started, but I did it anyway, and for a brief moment it was so totally worth it. Jenna has a slamming body, every muscle tight on her petite frame, nothing out of place. But it’s more than that. The challenge in her eyes, the quick laughter, the intelligence behind that beautiful face. And the desire and drive to get what she really wants. I see part of me in her, the part that wants the same thing I do—to call her own shots, to make her own success and that’s almost hotter than sex. Almost.

“What the hell happened to you the other night?” Mitch asks, catching up to me in the quad on Tuesday.

I don’t stop walking. “You know,” I say with a shrug, hoping that’s going to satisfy him. At least I didn’t sleep with her. I’m not that much of a pig. Although not taking her up on her offer was one of the hardest things I’ve ever done. If I hadn’t gotten out of her bed and walked away at that very second, I knew there would be no going back.

“I
don’t
know, which is why I’m asking. Did you get with Jenna?”

“None of your fucking business,” I say. I’ve been avoiding Jenna since Saturday night and I feel like a total dick about it. Catching a glimpse of her in the hall or on campus used to be one of the few things I looked forward to outside of baseball, and now that’s gone for good.

“Then that’s a ‘no.’ Which is too bad because that girl is hot.”

I glance at him. “I’m sure Nina would love to hear that.”

Mitch shrugs. “I’m still allowed to look.”

I remember the stares and the jokes of the guys in the bar when they saw Mitch and Nina together that night and I can’t help myself. “Why are you going out with her anyway?”

“What do you mean
why
?” He slows his pace. “Nina’s amazing. She’s a dancer, seriously smart and I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but she’s insanely gorgeous.”

I look around to see if anyone can hear our conversation. “I know that. But…you know…” I so don’t want to say it out loud.

Mitch stops walking and stares at me. “Because she’s black? That’s what you mean. That I’m not supposed to go out with her because she’s black and I’m not?”

Shit. I didn’t want to get into this and now he thinks I’m a total racist and at this point there’s nothing I can say to deny it. I’ve got to learn to shut my mouth. “It’s not just that.” I look around. “Don’t people give you a lot of shit here? I mean, things are different in California. People are more used to the interracial thing there. But here…I mean you still don’t see it all that often.”

I watch his face as he figures out his answer. I know what I want him to say. “My parents don’t care—they love Nina and they know how fucking lucky I am that she agreed to go out with me in the first place. Her parents are cool too, and even if nobody was, I’d go out with her anyway.” I can see the anger rising up in his eyes and honestly I’m cheering for it. “It’s nobody’s fucking business who I’m going out with. Got that?”

I hold up my hands. I know Mitch probably thinks I’m an asshole and I have no way to defend myself now. “It’s cool. I like Nina. I just don’t want to see anybody get hurt, that’s all.”

Mitch considers it for a moment, but I see him relax a little. “Fine,” he starts to walk away. “See you at the game.”


                    
 

The fact that Garvin is doing well this season is reflected in the packed stadium this afternoon. The stands are a sea of red and white as fans wave State banners and big foam fingers every time we’re up to bat. Mitch didn’t speak to me very much during warm-ups and I have the sneaking feeling that I can add his friendship to the list of things I’ve fucked up in the past couple of days. Good thing I’m set on focusing on baseball because it looks like that’s all I’m going to have left.

Rowan walks to the mound, as calm and cool as I’ve ever seen him despite the fact that the bases are loaded and we’re down by one in the top of the ninth. As his stats have improved the past few weeks, not only is Rowan pitching all of our hardest games, but the tutus and the hassling seem to have vanished. Nothing makes gay rumors disappear faster than a hot arm.

He’s not supposed to pitch today, but this game got out of hand in the last few innings
and coach has no choice. Throwing a few practice pitches, he looks in command and he easily shuts down the next three batters with hardly a pitch to spare.

“Nice work,” I say, holding out my hand as he walks back to the dugout.

“Your turn,” he says with a smile, slapping my hand as he tosses his glove onto the bench.

I grab the diamonds in the chain link fence. “Hey, Mitch,” I say as he passes me on the way to the plate, last in our batting order. “Their pitcher’s got a smooth fastball, but there’s a hitch in his high leg when he’s throwing a curve and his control is shit.”

“Thanks,” he says, giving me a nod.

“Let’s go Mitch!” I shout from the sidelines, stopping my practice swings to watch the pitcher. Sure enough, his high leg twitches and Mitch stands looking as an outside curve hits the catcher’s mitt for a ball.

Bat on his shoulder, Mitch waits and sees the straight delivery just as I do, swinging the bat to meet the ball with a loud crack as it sails up the infield line, past the third baseman for a single. Mitch takes off his batting gloves and stuffs them in his back pocket as I walk to the plate. With Mitch on first, I’m the winning run and everybody knows it.

The crowd settles back down and gets quiet as the ump bends down to sweep off the plate. I take my place in the batter’s box, not even taking practice swings, just shouldering the bat and keeping my eyes steady on the pitcher. When I was a kid, this kind of pressure just about killed me. I couldn’t stand the silence of the crowd as everyone waited to see if you’d choke, the calls from the other dugout as the players tried to screw with your swing or the disappointment in my father’s eyes if I didn’t come through. But now I live for these moments, when everything else fades into the background and it’s just me and a guy with a ball in his hand.

I don’t wait. I don’t want to give the pitcher any opportunity to get one past me. I can see from his wind up that he’s going to throw a fastball straight down the middle and I’m more than ready for it. I hold my breath, forcing myself not to reach for the ball, but to wait patiently until it’s in just the right spot before I swing. It’s a good hit, I can feel it the second the ball leaves the bat, but I don’t know if it’s enough as I take off running. I barely see the base as I round first on Coach’s call and keep going toward second, Mitch somewhere up ahead of me. I don’t look into the outfield, but glance over at the third base coach whose arm is windmilling in the signal to keep running. Somewhere in the back of my head I can hear the crowd, aware that everyone in the stadium is on their feet screaming, but all I can really hear is my breath coming hard and my feet as they pound the dirt, Coach’s face red, and his veins bulging as he screams for me to keep going. I see the catcher straight ahead of me, crouched down with his glove up, ready to grab the ball. I have to beat it. I have to be faster than the little white ball as it whips through the air toward the two of us. I turn my head against the flying dirt as I put my leg forward into a slide, reaching with my foot to stop myself from overshooting it, one hand still on the plate as the ball hits the mitt with a loud thwack, half a second too late.

Instantly the dugout empties and everyone cheers as we jump and hug each other for the win. Backs are pounded, fists are pumped and slowly everything settles down as we head back to the dugout to get our stuff.

“Fucking awesome,” Mitch yells, slapping me hard on the arm. “I knew you’d do it the whole time.”

“Nice job, Branch,” Coach says, walking by with his clipboard, his mustache twitching and I can see he’s happy.

“Rowan and Mitch made it possible,” I say, nodding to the bench.

“But you made it happen,” he says, tapping the clipboard. “Good things are in store for you Branch, I can feel it.”

“Thank you sir,” I say, packing up the rest of my gear.

After a quick shower, I’m grabbing my backpack out of the locker when Mitch finally walks in from the field.

“That was fast,” he says, pulling off his jersey and tossing it into the laundry bag.

“Yeah, I have a lot of shit to do in between games this week.” I glance at him, but he seems relaxed. I guess the resumption of small talk means that we’re back on okay ground.

“Cool. Catch you tomorrow,” he says, pulling a towel around his neck and giving me a quick high five.

I walk out of the locker room to the heat of the late afternoon and see Nina leaning against the wall of the gym. She looks up as I pass, so I can’t ignore her. I have to say something. “Hey. Mitch is just getting in the shower so he might be a little while.”

“Thanks,” she says, standing up straight. She looks around and then walks over to me. “I need to ask you something.”

Shit. Here it comes. She and Jenna are friends—I’m positive she told her everything. “Sure.”

“Look—I know what’s going on with you, and I don’t get it. What’s the big deal?”

“What are you talking about?” I step closer to her, my heart pounding. Damn. I knew she’d figure it out. I should have stayed far away from Nina.

“You. And what you are, as opposed to what you’re pretending to be.” Nina looks me up and down. “You’ve been keeping your hair cut short and I’m guessing those green eyes are real, but seriously, it’s as plain as day. Mom’s side or dad’s?”

I let out a long breath. There’s no use denying it to her any more. I just have to see what I can do to minimize the damage. I look around to make sure we’re still alone. “My mom’s black if that’s what you’re asking.”

“So you’ve been passing this whole time?” Nina grins at me and I hope I don’t see any hatred there. “Why are you doing so much to hide the fact that you’re mixed? I don’t get it.”

It’s exactly what I expect her to say. I shake my head. “You
don’t
get it. People know what you are the minute they look at you. They see you, they think ‘black girl’ and they know what box to put you in. My whole life people have asked me ‘What are you?’ I’m not black, I’m not white, I’m definitely ‘other’. At home, everyone knows my parents so everyone knows I’m mixed, but when I came here to check out the school with my dad, everyone just assumed I was white. What was I supposed to do?”

Nina’s eyes get wide. “Um…tell them the truth?”

“And how exactly do you have that conversation? How do you bring something like that up after all this time? And the second it came out everyone would treat me differently. Do you have any idea what it’s like to be the only one who’s different?”

Nina puts her hands on her hips. “Only every day of my life.”

Shit. Of course she does. I almost forgot who I was talking to. “Fine. Sorry.” I lean toward her. “Why did you come here anyway? Garvin State’s not exactly the most diverse school in the world. Or even in Texas. You, me and half the football team make up most of the diversity in this place.”

“Simple. Merit scholarship for engineering. Mostly white school or not—they want to pay me to come study, I’m in.”

I look at her fine features and dark skin. “So, what if you
could
pass? Be just like everyone else around here. You’d do it in a second.”

She gives an insulted snort. “No. I wouldn’t.” Nina fixes her deep brown eyes on me. “Because that’s not who I am. And it’s not who you are. What would your mama say if she knew that you were passing this whole time? It’s like denying she exists.”

And that’s what gets me. Because Mom would kill me. Worse than that, she’d be hurt. I can’t even imagine the look on her face if she finds out what I’ve been doing. “I didn’t do it on purpose, it just sort of happened and by the time I figured it out, it was too late to say anything. Besides, you should see the way the rest of the guys treat Rowan just because there’s a rumor that he’s gay. Just because of a fucking rumor he can barely come into the locker room anymore. I don’t want to be that guy.”

She shakes her head. “It wouldn’t be as bad as you think. People will forgive a lot if you can hit a ball or score a touchdown around here.”

“It wouldn’t be the same. No matter how many home runs I hit this year, it wouldn’t be the same.”