by Sarah Sutton
I blocked out almost everything in that sentence but one thing. Zach. Zach, allowing Celia to lean up against him. Zach, who looked at me guiltily.
“Can I ask you a question?” I said slowly, debating my words. “Has Zach ever mentioned…cheating?”
“Cheating? What do you mean?”
I traced my pen along my page. “The team, I mean. Whether or not the baseball team cheats. At the party, Ryan asked another player for cash so he could give it to Hampton.”
“Hampton,” Edith repeated, voice sounding strange. I strained to listen closer. “You’re sure that’s what he said?”
“Yeah. Why?”
“That’s the team they’re playing today.”
My grip on the phone loosened a little as I stared at my sheet of paper. They were playing Hampton High today, and Ryan asked for money to pay them. And that wasn’t all of it, either. Ryan said they were missing Taylor’s chunk, meaning other people—other players—had pitched in.
“They are paying them off,” I murmured, more to myself than to her.
Quickly, I started drawing arrows onto the sheet of paper, reorganizing the bullet points in their new order.
I found myself standing from my desk chair before I even realized it, reaching for my purse. “I think I might go catch the end of that game after all,” I told Edith, snatching up the notebook from my desk and shoving it into my bag. “I’ll let you know the score.”
* * *
For the second time in my life, I pedaled my bike to the baseball diamond, but this time I did it like my life depended on it. I needed to catch the tail end of the baseball game. I had to at least see how people were playing. Batting. Running. See if any of the players sucked more than normal.
But then again, what was normal, anyway? I had no idea how Hampton played, or even Bayview for that matter. So maybe my thinking was flawed. Come on, though. It’s going to be obvious if someone was trying to throw the game, right? Maybe?
My bike barely stopped rolling forward before I hopped off it, shoving it into a bike rack. I quickly looped my lock through the spokes and clicked it into place. A bead of sweat slipped between my shoulder blades, the sun not being kind to me as it glared down.
I was so late to the game that there wasn’t anyone selling tickets anymore—I walked right through the entrance without having to fish a five out of my pocket. Which was super helpful because the idea of contributing to the madness that was Bayview High Baseball made my temples ache.
Here I was, the girl who hated our team, showing up to catch the tail end of it. Who the heck was I becoming?
As soon as I stepped past the empty ticket booth and deeper into the baseball area, it took me a minute to just get a glimpse of the field. Because there were so. Many. People. So much purple and gold loitering around, our school colors a scream to my senses. One person even had a flag with the school logo on it.
Did everyone have to be so energetic about baseball? Yuck.
The nauseating obsession of baseball in Bayview was also a major contributor to my aversion. I never understood why people would sit in the blazing sun, burning their butts off, just to watch boys swing a metal bat at a ball. Whoop-de-do.
But after sidestepping around the bodies, the baseball diamond came into full view, giving me an eyeful of everyone standing around it. The Royals were in the outfield, dots of purple jerseys against green grass. My gaze roamed over their faces, explicitly avoiding looking at the pitcher’s mound. No way was I going to lock eyes with Walsh, who was no doubt winding up a perfect throw. Didn’t need to be distracted.
After reading together in the car the other night, the idea of seeing Walsh now had my throat tight, my stomach fluttery.
No idea what that was about. So I refused to search for him.
That didn’t stop me from stepping closer to the chain-link fence though, bypassing the bleachers, crossing my arms over my chest. As I passed, I couldn’t help but glare at the metal contraptions. They were beautiful! Not a trace of rust in sight and yet Bayview High wanted to replace them? They cut my program to replace something that was practically new?
The scoreboard said that we up by eight in the sixth inning, with just one inning to go. Or something like that, right? Either way, we were winning. Now it was just time to determine if we were winning legitimately.
“Sophia!”
I whirled at the sound of my name, so totally thrown off.
“I thought that was you. I can’t believe you’re here,” Jewel said from the bleachers off to my side, sitting at the edge of the front row. She smiled when we locked eyes, wide and genuine. “Here I thought I’d be stuck watching this boring game by myself. Well, I mostly did, but now you’re here!”
“I am,” I said haltingly, glancing around at the people behind her. No one seemed too interested in us talking, but they really should’ve been. Scott’s ex-girlfriend talking to his current girlfriend? Weird, weird, weird. “Uh, you here to see Scott?”
She nodded quickly, scooting further over on the metal bench. “Come sit by me. I can give you the low-down on how this game’s been going.”
I racked my brain for a polite way to turn her down—that I see better from the back or that I don’t want to sit on the bleachers sucking my newspaper funding dry?—but eventually, I just moved to sit by her.
“He hasn’t pitched at all today,” Jewel said to me, angling her chin toward the field of players. “Walsh, I mean. Coach hasn’t put him in at all, but I saw him out practicing before the game started. Do you know what’s up with that?”
I looked at her sharply, frowning. My mind immediately switched from thinking about the article to thinking about why Walsh might be doing poorly at his game. Though I was supposed to interview him for my article, I never got around to it. I knew almost nothing about him. Did he have any pets? Were his parents together? Scott said that Walsh fell asleep at the game against Northwood—but why did he fall asleep?
All these questions were left unanswered and made me a terrible girlfriend. Or fake girlfriend. Whatever.
“I’m not sure,” I said finally, turning my gaze to the pitcher. She was right, of course—it wasn’t Walsh up there; it was Taylor, rubbing a baseball against his mitt. “Maybe he wasn’t feeling well today.”
“Well, hopefully he feels better by tonight.”
“Tonight?”
A corner of Jewel’s mouth lifted. “No offense, but Scott was right when he said that you don’t get out much.”
Despite the obvious rudeness of that statement, I strangely didn’t feel offended. It was weird—like the way she said it really just had me lifting a shoulder, thinking, true.
But it also triggered another thought—the two of them talked about me? Why?
“The guys on the baseball team organized an after-party down at the bay after the game. There’s going to be a volleyball tournament and everything. I’m pretty sure Walsh is even signed up.”
“Oh, right,” I found myself saying as a player stepped up to bat. “The after-party.”
The after-party no one told me about, down at the bay by the ocean. What, did that just elude Mr. Perfect’s brain, inviting his girlfriend to a party where there’d be people to show off to?
He wasn’t out on the field to witness my death glare. He was safely hidden by the dugout’s walls.
Taylor steadied himself for his pitch, taking time dragging his foot through the gravel, trying to intimidate the batter. He held his mitt up in front of him, stepping off to the side and leaning onto his back foot.
Even though sitting next to Jewel was weird, being at a baseball game was weirder. Scott begged me to go ever since the season started, but I’d avoided the games like the plague. I think it was always because he played the good-girlfriend card. “Good girlfriends support their boyfriends” or “Good girlfriends do what their boyfriends ask.” When that card was pulled out, I did everything in my power to perform the opposite.
I found Scott in the outfield
, and though he stood a distance from us, I saw that his eyes were in our direction. No doubt wondering what Jewel and I were doing sitting so close to each other. Wondering what we were saying. Good, I thought to him, drawing in a breath. I’ll put on a show then.
I plastered the friendliest expression on my face that I could muster. “Are you going after this?” I asked her. “We should hang out together at the bay. Watch the volleyball tournament together.”
“I’d love that! I have a blanket in the back of my car we can sit on.”
As the teams switched sides, the Royals stepping up to bat while the other team went into the outfield, I found myself a little unsure. Did Walsh even want me at that party at the bay? If he wanted me there, he’d have invited me. Right? Or was I overthinking this?
But honestly, what did I care about what he thought? If he didn’t want me there, too bad. I wasn’t going to base my actions off of him.
Besides, a party at the bay would be the perfect place for more inspiration for my article.
* * *
The baseball game ended with the Royals winning by a longshot. Jewel offered to drive me to the bay herself, but I told her that I would just wait for Walsh to come off the field. “I’ll see you at the bay,” she said, backing away from where I sat on the bleachers. “I’m going to go find Scott.”
“See you there,” I said, pulling my cell phone out from my purse, shooting Edith a quick text.
Me: We won.
Edith: Dang. Zach was right—shouldn’t have bet against them. You see him anywhere?
Before I had a chance to lift my gaze, a certain noise sounded right in my ear. “Psst.”
Jumping a mile, I turned my head to find Walsh leaning against the edge of the second-row bleacher, baseball cap brim low over his eyes, fully decked out in his baseball attire. Even though I hated it, the air punched from my lungs at the sight of his purple jersey and pants and the way they seemed to morph to his frame so perfectly. As if it’d been tailored for him. And the way his golden hair tucked out from underneath his cap, strands catching by his eyes, just made me…
Focus. “Hey.” I grabbed nonchalance by the ankles and forced it to be my best friend. “You did great today. Really gave them a run for their money.”
Walsh snorted, shoving to sit beside me in the first row, leaning his elbows onto his knees. “Yeah, definitely.”
One of the benefits of Walsh not playing today meant he wasn’t sweaty—which meant he didn’t stink. I looked up at his profile since he was looking away from me, trying to discern any emotion. Dirt smudged one of his sharp, cheekbones and his jersey was untucked from his pants. The half-smile covering his face was luminous, but his eyes were tired.
“Why didn’t you play?” I asked. “Why didn’t you pitch?”
Walsh opened his mouth to speak, but someone beat him to the punch.
“Hey, you guys going to the bay?” Zach asked as he walked up to us with his bat bag slung over his shoulder, his purple pants streaked and smudged with dust from the diamond. His light eyes glanced between us. “Hope I’m not interrupting something.”
“You’re not,” Walsh said, rubbing a hand over his face. “I think I’m going to pass on the bay.”
“Dude.” All jovialness on Zach’s face vanished as he stared down his friend. “You are not bailing on me. You’re the one who made me sign up for that stupid tournament. No offense, Sophia, but I called dibs first.”
I fought a grin as I pushed to my feet, standing over Walsh. “Let’s go to the bay,” I told him, reaching down and picking up his hands. I didn’t tug on them, didn’t draw him to his feet, just held them. The strangeness of the moment hit me: I was holding hands with Walsh Hunter. In public. “It’ll be fun. I’ll watch you play volleyball and I can get a slushy. We can even take cute pictures.”
I wasn’t sure that pictures would’ve even been an incentive for me, but Walsh’s lips twitched ever so slightly. “Can’t turn down the slushies,” he said eventually, rising to his feet. He tugged on my hands firmly enough to pull me closer until my chest hit his. I couldn’t help but let out a sharp breath, the sudden proximity jostling my insides. “Can’t say no to you.”
My lips smiled, my heart skipping a beat. “No,” I said. “You really can’t.”
Chapter Ten
I didn’t go to the bay all that often, mostly because it was always packed with people. Either with families milling about, trying to enjoy a beach day, or teenagers running around and surfing in the ocean waves. I wasn’t big on people, so I frequently steered clear. However, when I showed up to the bay just as the sun began to set, I felt a little surge of excitement.
A plan was developed shortly after Walsh agreed to go. He wanted to go home and change, and I wanted to go home and get a swimsuit. Edith, as it turned out, was relieved of baby-brother-babysitting-duty, and she ended up grabbing me from my house and driving us over.
By the time we got to the bay, people were roaming around by the droves, and the volleyball nets were all in use. “I don’t see Walsh,” I said to Edith, straining onto my tip-toes.
“He might not be here yet. You rushed out of the house so fast I didn’t even have time to get my own swimsuit on.” She held up her bag. “It doesn’t look like they’ve started building the fire yet—probably giving the baseball players enough time to show up.”
“Yeah.” I glanced over to where the volleyball net hung, rubbing my bare arm nervously. “I’m going to go get in line for a slushy.”
“You and those slushies.” Edith shook her head. “I’m going to run to the bathroom and change. I’ll meet you in five.”
The sand was soft and warm, my sandals kicking up flecks of it as I walked. Food trucks and stands lined the sides of the sandy beach, all open and ready to serve. Their bright colors were beckoning, accompanied by the signature smells for each designated booth. I, however, gravitated toward the one that didn’t have a distinct smell. Slushies.
I glanced around the open beach, searching for a particular head of blond hair.
“Sophia, there you are!” Jewel called as she came towards me, a blanket thrown over her arm. She’d changed into a pair of white shorts and a blue halter swimsuit top, her dark hair curling over her shoulders.
She looked gorgeous. Figured. It made me feel a little more than frumpy in my one-piece.
“It’s been lonely,” she went on, reaching up and fluffing her hair over her shoulder. “Which is funny, because it’s so crowded here. Scott’s been playing volleyball for the past twenty minutes, and I’ve just been so bored.”
Which probably isn’t a bad thing, I thought bitterly. “Have you seen Walsh?”
“Haven’t seen Walsh, but I did see his friend, Zach. He was talking to Celia over by the pier.” She paused, tilting her head. “Are those two together? I can’t tell.”
Honestly? Neither could I.
A quiet lull fell over the two of us for a moment as I stepped further up in line. “So, Scott said that you were working on some sort of article for school.” Jewel burrowed her toe in the sand, overturning it in a grainy clump. “What are you writing about?”
“Baseball,” I said before I really thought it through, my thoughts snagging on what she’d said before that. Scott told her about my article? “Just…focusing on the season, I mean. Nothing too exciting.”
“That’s fun. And I bet it’s been cool interviewing Walsh for it, now that he’s your boyfriend and all.”
I turned to look at her, squinting against the orange sun that shined just over her shoulder. “I’m sure Scott had something to say about that.”
“Scott has a lot to say about a lot of things,” Jewel said lightly, though her expression didn’t quite match her tone, “but you and Walsh do tend to be a frequent topic.”
“Hey, can you tie the strap behind my back for me?” Edith said as she came up to me, lifting the hem of her shirt a little and turning around. “I couldn’t reach.”
I picked up the red
straps of Edith’s bikini top, double-knotting it. “There.”
“Thanks, it was kind of—oh. Uh. Hi.”
Edith’s eyes snagged on how close Jewel stood off to my side, expression going from calm to tense in an instant. Jewel’s first impression with Edith wasn’t the best—nor was her first impression with me—but part of me felt strangely defensive of Scott’s new girlfriend.
Jewel, though, acted like she didn’t notice the sharpness to my best friend’s gaze. She stuck out her hand. “We haven’t officially met. I’m Jewel.”
“Edith.” She didn’t offer her hand. “Interesting to find you with Sophia.”
“Oh, she’s one of the familiar faces that I know. We were both at Ryan’s party on Tuesday. Celia and I went with Scott.”
A shade of darkness washed over Edith’s expression, starting with her eyes. Celia. Crap, I never told her about that. When I opened my mouth to say something, anything, I got cut off by the girl behind the slushy stand.
“How do you know Celia?” Edith asked, folding her arms over her chest.
“We’re family friends.”
Had I been a bad friend for not telling Edith that Celia had been at the party? For not telling her how Zach seemed a little too friendly? Edith hadn’t really said anything was going on with her and Zach, but was that breaking girl code? Gosh, what even was girl code?
“Why did you two run out so fast the other night, Sophia?” Jewel asked after I ordered. “You and Walsh left almost as soon as we got there.”
“That’s because Ryan’s parties are lame,” Edith said on a huff, turning her gaze away. Yeah, probably a bad sign.
“Just had some things to do,” I said to Jewel politely. Like reading together in the car. In all honesty, that was way better than Ryan’s party. I turned to Edith as the girl handed over my slushy. “Are you playing in the tournament? Get your practice in?”