Stealing Bases (14 page)

twenty-nine

“Just come on!” Zachary yells a few hours later. He rides ahead of me on his beach cruiser, having convinced me to meet him after practice with talk of how I deserve to be treated better and a confession about his father’s recent bender.

“Chill out. I’m right behind you.” I attempt to keep up on the wooden beach path. After a tough late practice (during which I followed Martie’s advice and took a few ground balls at second—to surprising success) and all the drama with my mom, I’m struggling tonight.

“Stop whining.” He stands up on the pedals, expanding his upper body like a knight riding a chariot. A breeze rustles through his white Los Angeles Lakers tee and mesh shorts.

“Where are we going?” I ask, pumping the pedals harder to keep up.

“You’ll see . . .” Zachary makes a right off the path and onto the street. I follow him without questioning. Then, all of a sudden, it hits me.

“Wait. Are we going to our old elementary school?” In the distance, the familiar building looms. The Spanish-style architecture is the same, but the school itself used to seem much bigger and scarier.

“Just wait and see. . . .” Zachary veers off into the bus parking lot and bikes around the building toward the back. Once he reaches the fence that lines the playground, he dismounts his bike and leans it against the fence. He walks up to me and holds out his hand in an attempt to help me off my bike.

“What do you think, I can’t do it myself?” I say, jumping off and kicking out my kickstand.

He grins. “See, you don’t let me be romantic. And you complain about the way I invited you to prom . . .”

“Yeah, I do. But that’s not the point. Helping me off a bike I’m completely capable of dismounting myself isn’t romantic. It’s male chauvinism at its best.”

“Did somebody forget to drink her Caramel Frap this morning?” Zachary teases me, pulling me toward the playground. At first I resist, but then I follow him. He sits on the end of a purple-and-blue enclosed plastic slide. Then he pulls me to the spot next to him.

“Remember this slide?”

“How could I forget?” I blush, remembering our first “real” kiss here four years ago. Memories of that night begin to overwhelm me—too wonderful to ignore. So, I decide that perhaps sitting isn’t the answer. Instead, I climb up the steps and slip down the tiny slide, feet first. When I reach the bottom, I slam into him and push off with my feet like I used to when we played slide bumper cars. He playfully falls off the slide and onto the wood chips below.

Then he sits up and stares at me. Really stares into my eyes. I look down at my bare legs.

“So what happened today?” Zachary asks, leaning back on his hands and tilting his head. “Why did you lose it at your locker?”

“I don’t want to talk about it.” I stare at the nearby swing set and take a deep breath. “Doesn’t it seem like we were just here? Like the last few years just flew by?”

“Yeah . . . Remember when I dared you to jump off the swing set?”

“Yeah, and I stupidly listened to you. So I ended up having to get five stitches on my knee,” I say, glancing at the puffy pink scar, a reminder of my recklessness.

“I didn’t dare you to jump off when it was sky high! I meant, jump off when you were coming down. . . . Besides, you saw us all do it. You knew what I meant!”

“Well, you did come to the hospital with me . . .” I say, remembering how we waited in the emergency room together, playing Nintendo DS.

“Yeah, well, that was because . . .” Zachary stops himself.

“You can say it: because my mom wasn’t there. Because she didn’t show up at the hospital until we were already home.”

Zachary diverts his eyes. “Yeah. But you know, I bet she wanted to check in on you. . . .”

“I wouldn’t be too sure about that.” I pause. The sense that I’ve been officially abandoned by my mother begins to overwhelm me. Suddenly, I look down at my feet and spot a penny on the ground. I can’t resist. “Want a penny?” I pick it up and attempt to hand it to Zachary. He backs away.

“Oh no. I fell for that once already.” He takes another step back.

“You mean when you were seven? It was your idea to throw it up and catch it in your mouth.”

“You wish. It was on a dare from you!” Zachary grins, showing off his dimple.

“Oops . . .” I wince. “Sorry about that.”

“You better be sorry—I had to have my stomach pumped.” He rubs his hard abs like it still hurts, but it’s clear that he’s not mad. “The worst part was that my dad was having one of his ‘episodes,’ so your dad had to take me to the hospital.”

“My mom was working and your dad was drunk—that’s our normal world.” I walk over toward the swing set and fall onto a black plastic swing. “What was with us and the dares anyway? You would think we would learn.” I toss off my flip-flops and begin to pump my legs.

Zachary lights up. “I dare you to go to the prom with me.”

“I dunno . . . our dares didn’t always work out so well in the past.”

Zachary shrugs. “I wouldn’t say that. I guess we always needed something to distract us from our messed-up families.”

At that moment, I can’t keep the truth a secret any longer. “My mom was supposed to take me dress shopping tonight. . . .”

“What happened?” Zachary asks, looking up.

I stop mid-swing. “Well, I’m here, aren’t I? What do you think happened?”

He shakes his head, picks up another wood chip, and launches it across the playground. It pings off the fence.

“Yeah, but we always had sports,” I say, pushing off again. “Except for me. I mean, what D-I program wants a high school benchwarmer?”

Zachary lets out a sigh. “All you have to do is claim that Amber’s transfer was illegal. At least then you’ll get some playing time.”

I ignore him and swing higher and higher until I feel like I can touch the clouds.

“You know how the CHSAA goes bananas over illegal transfers. They would be all over this since Amber’s such a stud. Seriously, Ky, she transferred on a whim her junior year. It breaks every rule out there. It’s only fair that she should sit out the season.” Zachary stands up, walks behind me, and begins pushing me even higher. “All you have to do is expose Amber for who she really is. Even if it’s not true, Amber will be so tied up with investigations, she’ll miss most of, if not the entire, rest of the season.”

I nod ever so slightly, as if I might consider it, just to end the conversation. Even if accusing Amber would give me the opportunity to impress some D-I scouts, there’s no way I’m going to the school board and being like, “Ummm . . . hello, I know you don’t know me, but there’s this girl—Amber McDonald—on my softball team, and I think her transfer here was illegal. So, yeah, you should investigate. It all sounds really shady to me.” I might be mean, but I’m not
that
mean.

I change the subject. “Are you going to Vi’s party tomorrow night?”

“Only if you are . . .” Zachary grabs the sides of my swing and pulls me to a stop. When my swing halts, he squats in front of me. Out of nowhere, he exclaims, “I’m so sorry.”

“For what? Amber’s transfer?” I ask, kicking some wood chips with my bare feet.

“No . . . Well, I am sorry to see how softball is turning out for you this year. But what I meant is I’m really sorry about those other girls last season.”

I feel my shoulders stiffen. I kick one wood chip, then two, then three, then four.

“I miss this.” He takes a step toward me, then closer and closer.

He’s so close I can smell his mix of D&G and Tide.

“Talking to each other like we used to.”

Me too
, I think, but I don’t dare say it.

“I’ve just been so happy that we’re talking again. And that we’re on the prom court together. It’s like everything is back to the way it should be. Everything is normal.”

There’s a silence between us. Zachary gently touches my heart charm. “I saw this a few weeks ago. I can’t tell you what it meant to me when I saw you still wearing it.” He grabs the clasp and slowly maneuvers it back behind my neck.

I touch the friendship bracelet I gave him on his wrist.

When I look up, he dives into my lips, tasting as always like peppermint gum. He kisses me hard and pulls me closer and closer. So close, I feel like we’re one. Then he cups my cheeks. I love it when he, only he, touches my face. I move my hands to my favorite spot—his lower back. I pull him even closer.

The tingles turn to chills, shooting goose pimples down my legs. His hands move from my cheeks to the back of my head, then down my back. A cool ocean breeze runs through my loose hair.

When we finally break apart, Zachary and I are both breathless. “I need you, Kylie. I need you every day. You’re the only one who makes my life right. And sometimes I wish I met you when I was older,” he says, still staring into my eyes. “It just isn’t fair to feel this way at seventeen.”

I swallow a lump and stay silent. Nothing is fair anymore.

And I kiss him again.

thirty

“Party time!” Missy shouts, dragging a Fred Segal shopping bag out of her walk-in closet on Saturday night.

I fall on her thick white comforter and let out a deep breath. For a moment, I wish I could spend my night under the covers instead of at Violet’s annual spring fling. Although it’ll be fun to hang with my buds, I’m exhausted from all the stress from this past week. And frankly, after that kiss on the playground, there’s someone else who I’d rather see . . .

I roll over and pick up a pale pink bottle of nail polish off the floor, sit up, and unscrew the cap.

“Word has it Violet’s party is going to be ah-mazing. I cannot wait to take a dip in her hot tub. Just like last year. Me and Andrew . . . Ah . . .” Missy digs into her shopping bag and pulls out a periwinkle bikini. The suit matches her blue eyes.

I can’t help it: I picture Zachary and me making out in the pool. Then, worried that Missy can see what I’m imagining, I stop myself and lazily drag the brush across my thumbnail.

“Why are you so beat anyway?” Missy asks, maniacally pulling assorted tops and shorts off hangers. She holds them up in front of her as she poses in front of the mirror. “Like?”

“I like that one. Good color.” I point to a turquoise frilly tank that screams Anthropologie.

“Okay, so I have to ask . . .” Missy walks over and grabs the tank in question. “Did you finally find yourself a better catch?” She chuckles, shaking her head. “Actually, what am I saying? Anyone is a better beau than Zach.”

I shrug, clutching my heart charm. “Nah, I think I’m off men. . . .”

Missy eyes me up and down. “Yeah, uh-huh,” she says sarcastically. “I
really
believe you.”

“Believe what you want.” I shake out my polished fingernails.

“So, on that useless note, do you think I should switch to my white bikini?” Missy mischievously grins, holding up the string bikini she bought for Cabo last fall.

“If you’re looking to be this year’s prom princess. You’ll definitely get votes with that see-through suit . . . Chloe.” I giggle.

“Here. Try this on.” Missy tosses a lavender sundress my way.

I keep my hands high to avoid ruining my nail polish as it lands on my lap.

Missy goes back to staring at herself in the mirror. “So, I’m sorry, Ky, I have to know. If you’re off guys, where have you been the last two days? I texted you like a thousand times to hang out.”

“Um . . .” I hold up the lavender dress by the hanger, careful not to smudge the polish.

“It
is
a new guy. Isn’t it?” She sits down on the bed next to me, her eyes digging into my soul.

“Well, it’s a guy. But he’s not exactly new.”

“Please don’t tell me his initials start with a
Z
or an
M
.”

I wince and look up at the oak-wood-trimmed navy ceiling.

“Oh my God! They do. You’re seeing Zach again! Even after I told you again and again not to.”

“Okay, so you’re right. Congratulations. But I still don’t think it’s different from the whole you-and-Andrew thing.”

Missy pulls off the cotton tee she was wearing over her bikini and violently tosses it on the floor with the rest of this week’s wardrobe. She replaces it with the turquoise tank. Then she lets out a loud sigh. “I already told you—Andrew and I are different. He didn’t win the challenge and it wasn’t his idea. . . . And you know all of that. Plus, you have to give other guys a chance.”

“Yeah. That’s what you keep saying. Just like you thought Brett Davidson was into me.”

“Wasn’t he?”

“Uh, no. It seemed like he was going to ask me to prom, but I must have been imagining things because of your oh-so-helpful pep talks.”

“What are you talking about?”

“You were there in class. You saw how our conversation ended. He’s taking someone else.”

“Zach probably threatened him.”

I look out the row of windows that line the side of Missy’s room. “Look. Zachary’s been showing up when I need him. He gets me. We’ve been together since we were kids. I can’t just walk away from him.”

“Whatever, Ky.” Missy rolls her eyes.

“And there’s one more thing.”

Missy freezes. “What is it?”

“I’m living in his guesthouse.”

Her eyes widen to the size of softballs. “OMG! What?!? Does he come over at night? Are you guys—”

“No!” I squeak. “He’s banned from coming anywhere near the guesthouse.”

“So that’s your dad’s”—she mimes quotation marks—“
friend’s
guesthouse?”

“My dad and Mr. Murphy have been friends for years,” I say. “Technically I wasn’t lying.”

Missy flings a shoe across the room. It bangs against the wall. “Whatever, Ky. Just make the worst decision ever. No biggie.”

“It wasn’t my decision!”

“Yeah, living in his guesthouse wasn’t—although, I mean, you could have lived here or something. But dating him again? That’s definitely your decision.”

“First of all, we’re not really dating. . . .”

“You keep telling yourself that.”

“We’re not. We’re taking things slow.”

“Do you guys even know how to do that?”

“Miss, I just need you to trust me on this.”

For a second, the room is silent. But then, Missy’s answer shocks me. “Fine. Whatever makes you happy. Just don’t get hurt again.”

“Wait. What’s with the sudden change of heart?”

Missy shrugs. “I just give up. I mean, I hate you guys together. But if being with him makes you happy, then who am I to stop you?”

At that moment, Missy gives me the second shock of the night. She comes over and gives me a hug. But then, not to be a total mush, she says something very much in character: “Okay Miss Zachaholic, let’s get ready for Vi’s spring fling!”