by Anne Key
Copyright
Published by
HARMONY INK PRESS
5032 Capital Circle SW, Suite 2, PMB# 279, Tallahassee, FL 32305-7886 USA
[email protected] • http://harmonyinkpress.com
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of author imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
Stealing Bases
© 2015 Anne Key.
Cover Art
© 2015 Bree Archer.
http://www.breearcher.com
Cover content is for illustrative purposes only and any person depicted on the cover is a model.
All rights reserved. This book is licensed to the original purchaser only. Duplication or distribution via any means is illegal and a violation of international copyright law, subject to criminal prosecution and upon conviction, fines, and/or imprisonment. Any eBook format cannot be legally loaned or given to others. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without the written permission of the Publisher, except where permitted by law. To request permission and all other inquiries, contact Harmony Ink Press, 5032 Capital Circle SW, Suite 2, PMB# 279, Tallahassee, FL 32305-7886, USA, or [email protected].
ISBN: 978-1-63216-995-2
Library Edition ISBN: 978-1-63216-996-9
Digital ISBN: 978-1-63216-997-6
Library of Congress Control Number: 2014956578
First Edition February 2015
Library Edition May 2015
Printed in the United States of America
This paper meets the requirements of
ANSI/NISO Z39.48-1992 (Permanence of Paper).
To Geoffrey. I don’t have enough thanks. Love you, sir. Also, huge love to Mich, Jessica, and eternally, to my wife.
—Anne
Chapter 1
I KNEW when I threw the pitch that it was going to be really good or incredibly bad.
It ended up being both.
I play to win, you know? I mean, I don’t play for the baby leagues. I’m starting pitcher with the Lions, of course, but I play all over East Texas during the summer, so long as I got the gas money and my Honda runs. I was playing in Caddo today, pitching against some big old bitches from way out in Longview, and that pitch came off my hand like a shot and she couldn’t hit it for love or money and, bang, we won the game, but it didn’t matter a bit to me because I was screaming my damn fool head off. Something in my shoulder let go like a snapped rubber band, and I knew I was fixin’ to die. Just die, y’all, I swear to God.
Now I’m sitting at Presbyterian Hospital, waiting for my mom to get off work so she can sign whatever she has to sign so somebody can fix me.
This is gonna suck so hard.
I’m supposed to be at work at Super 1 in an hour to close, and I know Mom is going to have to find someone to cover her at the Rusty Nail long enough for her to get me home. Not to mention the money.
Oh God. What if I have to have surgery? What if I can’t play next year? UT’s looking at me for a scholarship, Coach says. Those girls go to the World Series, some of them, and Coach says I’m good—really good.
Oh God.
Okay. Okay, no crying. None of that shit. No way. Just breathe.
“Charley? Charley? What happened? I got your text. Oh my God. Are you crying? What did the doctor say?” Kaylee must have been at slut camp; she’s wearing a skirt that was riding all the way to heaven, and her hair is up in a perky little ponytail. Lord have mercy.
“Well, I’ll tell you if you shut up.”
“Bitch.” My best friend plops down, all drama-llama girl, blue eyes blazing like she’s going to kill something, just for me. “Tell.”
“My shoulder’s out. Marci Walker’s daddy drove me here.” He thinks Mom is trashy for letting me drive to all the tourneys, but shit, she’s got to work.
We’ve all got to work. Even Amy mows lawns for ten bucks each.
“Have they seen you?” Kaylee asks.
“They can’t ’til Mom comes.”
“Did you call my daddy?”
“I texted you.” I hope Kaylee does call him. Dr. Waterman’s like the head doctor here or something. Like a boss. I don’t know, but he’s a doctor and surely he can help.
“I’ll call him right now.” She touches my arm, her hand hot and sweaty—not enough to be slick, but enough to be sticky. “It’s gonna be okay, Charley. I promise. I’m here now.”
Yeah. Yeah, I know it will. Kaylee’s made everything better since she pinkie swore to be my bestie six years ago in Mrs. Porter’s reading class and she promised to show me what the difference between a subject and a predicate was. Once we realized she could write all the book reports and I could do all the math homework, it was cool.
I close my eyes, listen to Kaylee on the phone. “Uh-huh. Daddy, you have to come. You got to. Charley looks sick…. The ER. Can you…? Uh-huh. All right…. Thank you, Daddy.” She takes a deep breath, then starts digging in her Coach bag. “You want a Jolly Rancher? I got green.”
“Can he come?”
“Uh-huh. He’s on the way.”
I relax. I know Mom’s still got to come and sign, but Dr. Waterman—Poppy W, I call him—will make sure it’s all okay. Poppy W knows that I have to play ball. He even comes to a couple games a year.
“Charley? Open your mouth.”
I do, and the bright-tart of green apple fills my mouth. Oh, good. I suck hard. Kaylee is eating a cinnamon one; I can smell it on her breath. Man, she likes the burn.
“Charlene Lemain, what the hell did you do?” Mom rolls in like a runaway steam engine, her voice all gravel and growl.
“She hurt her shoulder, Miss Brenda.”
“I’m sorry, Momma.”
Mom’s lips are tight, dark red lipstick chewed all the way off. “Why are you sorry? Did you do it on purpose?”
I shake my head, and that jostles everything. Then the tears start, all of the sudden, surprising me, scaring me.
“Oh, baby. Don’t. Let me talk to someone at the window.”
“I called my daddy,” Kaylee says.
“Thank you, honey. That was sweet.” Mom stands up, her work jeans creaking they’re so tight. The sparkly belt matches her new shirt, bright blue and shiny. “I’m gonna get you signed in. Martha took my shift.”
“The whole shift?” Oh, man. Losing a Saturday night sucks. Big hairy donkey balls.
“Stop it.”
Mom heads to the window, and Kaylee chuckles. “Man, she’s all tarted up.”
“Shut up.”
“What? She looks great for a mom. Like she might get her some. My mom just looks like a dried-up old prune.”
“Kaylee!”
It’s true, though. Poppy W is a neat guy, all big booming laugh and “let’s go get a pizza, girls,” while Violet is skinny like a skeleton, with heavy glasses and tiny lips and teacher hair. She’s a lawyer, and Kaylee says that’s how they have to be, but no one has to only wear black or navy during the weekend, right?
Who wears linen slacks on Saturdays?
“How was practice today? Did you shake your pom-poms?” A cheerleader. My best friend is a goddamn cheerleader. How embarrassing.
“Yeah. They have me on the bottom of the pyramid. The bottom. Do I look fat to you? I mean, compared to the other girls?”
“Of course not.” Kaylee is perfect. Beautiful. Sort of terrifyingly beautiful. There isn’t a thing about her that I don’t wish was something I could… have is the wrong word, but it’s the one
that works too, somehow. My brain isn’t all about the words and poetry and shit. Hell, I know what I look like—a little like a weird elf, but instead of being sleek and cute and pretty, I’m just little and fierce and dark. Maybe a gnome. A skinny gnome with thin lips and heavy hair that never wants to straighten. Kaylee has skin like one of those creepy dolls—thanks to prescription-grade shit that makes Proactiv look like soap. Mom just rolls her eyes and says I should be grateful that my zits only show with my period and those only happen a couple three times a year, even though I’m fixin’ to be eighteen.
“I’m being serious. You don’t have to worry about it, Little Miss Skin and Bones, but I have an ass on me. Why couldn’t I look like Mom?”
I shake my head, but don’t say anything. What the fuck does she expect of me? I’m hurting and tired, and everybody knows Kaylee’s the one everyone wants.
Mom comes back and gives me a quiet smile. “There’s a car accident on the Loop. I just heard it. You’re gonna have to sit a bit, I’m thinking.”
Great.
“I’m okay. You want to go back to work? You’ve signed everything. I’m cool.”
“You… you’re sure?”
“Uh-huh. Totally. Kaylee’s here.” To be honest, I want her to stay like whoa, but I know how it is. I’m going to miss work tonight and there’ll be a bill and….
“You’re really, really sure? Kaylee, can you stay?”
“Sure, Miss Brenda. I’ll take her home with me and my folks. I don’t have practice tomorrow or Monday, so we’ll hang out.”
“I… your mom won’t mind?”
“Nope. Like I said, Daddy’s coming.”
They are both talking so fast and the pain is making everything a little gross, a little swollen feeling, and I want to cry and beg Mom to just stay. Just for a minute.
“Okay. Okay, you call me, Charlene. You call me as soon as you know anything, and if you can’t stay with Kaylee, you call me and I’ll make sure Ben’s home. Oh, call Amy when you can. You know she gets scared.” Momma talks fast when she thinks she’s doing something wrong. Always.
So do I.
I watch her leave and try not to tear up. I want her to talk to the doctors, to make them tell me I’ll be fine.
“Hey, you’re okay. I promise.” Kaylee leans in, her cheek near mine. “We’ll take a selfie, ’kay? You can’t cry. Everyone will think you’re a pussy.”
“I’m not.”
“Then don’t cry.”
She kisses my cheek, clicks the phone, and then we both make goofy faces for Ginnie and Brit and Shaundra, our black girlfriend.
Kaylee sends the photo off, along with:
OMG! Hospital. Wounded warrior. Pray hard.
Pray.
Right, like Kaylee goes to church. Her people are Democrats, for God’s sake. Everyone knows they don’t go to church, just like bartenders’ kids don’t go.
“It’s a good pic. I like it. I’m going to get my tongue pierced. You wanna?”
I blink, worried a little that I’ve missed something somehow, floated off into the ether and suddenly everything changed. “You’re gonna what?”
“Me and Ainsley and Ashley G are going to Dallas to get our tongues pierced. You want to go? It’ll be hot.”
“Tonight?”
Kaylee nods, then stops. “Oh. Right. Shit.”
“Yeah. You know, hospital? Severe pain….”
“I get you. No. You know me, ADHD girl. I’ll text them—no big thing. We’ll go next week.” She gives me a look, a hopeful grin. “You will come, though, right?”
“Sure. Of course.” Oh, gag. No way am I ever doing that. I passed out when I got my ears pierced. I’m lucky I managed to keep the earrings in long enough for the holes to heal. I still don’t like wearing the stupid things. I’m sure as shit not getting anything else pierced.
“You’re the best. I want a red stud, something Mom won’t notice.” She sticks her tongue out at me, and I feel a little queasy, like the pit of my belly cramps down, my crotch pulling up. God. Weird.
“You think she won’t?”
Poppy W comes through the big locked doors leading into the ER. “Think who won’t what, girls?”
Kaylee looks at me, knowing that I’ll save her ass, like always. “Think my mom will get in trouble at work. She signed all the stuff and had to go back in.”
Poppy W’s lips go tight, and I can see Kaylee in his face—all disapproval and worry. “Did she?”
“Uh-huh. Saturday night. Busy shift, big tips.”
“I suppose.” Like he’s ever waited tables. Ever. “Well, come on back.”
“I don’t have to wait for the nurse?”
“My girls? Waiting? Nonsense. Let’s get you somewhere quiet so Dr. Finch can look at you. He’s our orthopedist, and he’s the best. We have to save that shoulder, don’t we?”
I nod and try to stand up, pushing back a little, and the pain in my shoulder goes from oh, ow to God, I’m fixin’ to puke right here.
“Ginnie says feel better, and Brit says ew.”
“Okay. Okay, don’t lose it.” Poppy hollers over his shoulder in a voice big as Santa Claus’s, “Orderly! Get me a wheelchair!”
His hands are around my waist, holding me up, and I can see Kaylee, bobbing to look at me from around her dad. “Dude, Daddy, is she gonna pass out? Don’t let her pass out. Daddy, that’s totally uncool. Seriously. You want me to get a chair? I can. I know the code for the door from when I was here last year, filing. Stupid papers everywhere.”
“Kaylee… I don’t feel so good.” In fact, I felt way worse than not so good. I feel like shit warmed over.
I haven’t been so glad to see a wheelchair in my entire goddamn life.
Chapter 2
“CHARLEY? CHARLEY, you okay?”
Ben?
I frown, try to figure out why my throat hurts so much, why it’s so bright, why I can’t think.
“Dude, Mom’s going to fucking lose her shit if you don’t wake up soon. I’m supposed to be not bothering you, but man. If you’re not fixin’ to die, wake the fuck up.”
“Wha’ happened?”
“They surged on you. Your something fancy-sounding in your shoulder was bleeding. It was probably gross and you missed it all. Go you.”
Bleeding? Surgery? What? “When can I play again?”
“Dunno. They didn’t say.”
I get my eyes open, and it is Ben, staring at me from the collar of his Chili’s work shirt. God, the man has no neck.
None.
Talk about a redheaded stepchild.
“Does it hurt?”
“My throat.” I stare at his to-go cup. I know it’s Dr Pepper.
“No way, Jose. They’ll yell at me, and Kaylee’s dad already had a fucking fit. Yelled at the nurses, yelled at Kaylee, called Mom and screamed at her. Then Mom screamed at me.”
“She did not.” Mom has never raised her voice to the golden boy once in her life. Never.
“Well, she did in a text.”
“Lemme see?”
THAT BASTARD CALLED ME A SHITTY MOM. YOU GET YOUR ASS TO THE HOSPITAL RIGHT FUCKING AS SOON AS YOU CAN!!!
Oh.
Oh, ouch.
Mom isn’t bad, she just… it’s hard, man. Hard to make enough to feed everybody, hard to get clothes and cleats and….
And now it’s just going to get worse.
Because of me.
Because of me and now Kaylee.
“Oh. Oh, no. No crying. Shit. Shit.” Ben’s wild carrot orange hair starts bobbing, and suddenly he’s a big giant bird. “Mom! Mom, I need you!”
I hear Momma’s shoes coming at a run, followed by the sound of Amy’s voice. “Momma? Momma, is Sister gonna die?”
The tears feel so hot, and I can’t stop them, no matter how hard I try. It’s like I can’t even sniffle or anything. All I can do is cry, leaking like an engine with a busted water pump.
“Oh. Oh, now.” Mom lands on the bed, shoving Ben ou
t of the way. “Take your baby sister and feed her.”
“Feed her what?”
“Sonic. Go. Bring me back a Route 44 Diet Limeade and some Cheese Tots. There’s cash in my purse.”
Ben rolls his eyes, but I can tell from the look of him that it’s totally for my benefit, trying to make me laugh, but I can’t. There’s no laughing in me.
“I’m so sorry, Momma. I didn’t mean to.”
“Hush, you. Of course you didn’t. Don’t be silly. I called BK over to the Super 1, and she said don’t you worry. You have a job as soon as you’re better, and Kaylee and that Shaundra have been here all evening, waiting to see you.” Mom’s dark eyes are glittering, the silver makeup winging up over her brows. God, she’s beautiful. Like a doll. And she’s going to have to work harder, just because of me.
It’s all my fault.
“Charlene Desiree Lemain!”
I blink up, hiccupping from crying. “What?”
“You listen to your momma, right now, and dry it up. It is my job to worry. It is your job to get better, do you hear me? We’ll figure it out, but right now you have to calm the fuck down, okay?”
“Momma!”
“I’m serious. You need to calm down and breathe. Are you hurting?”
“My throat.” I don’t know why it burns like fire, but it does.
“Yeah, they put a tube down it. I’ll make sure it’s okay with the nurse to give you some ice chips. As soon as you’re ready, Kaylee wants to see you.”
She goes to stand up, and I try to reach for her, missing her hand altogether. There’s a needle in me. A needle. In me.
“What, baby?”
“When can I play ball again?”
“Not for a few months, I figure. But by the time the regular season starts, I bet you’re pitching.”
The rush of pure relief makes me feel like I’m going to lose my lunch. It’ll suck, but the college scouts will be able to see me play. School is a real thing, still.
I clench my right hand, and that damned IV moves again, tugging on the tape. “I want this out of me.”
I don’t even remember them putting it in.
“I’ll talk to the nurse. First, though, ice, huh?”