Britches Get Stitches

by Elicia Hyder

  The front door bells jingled.

  Kiara straightened and glanced toward the door. “I’ll bet that’s our reporter.”

  “Sylvia, do you need a receipt?” I asked.

  “Of course. You should always keep receipts, Grace.”

  I ripped the receipt tape so hard that it yanked half the roll out with it. When I turned to carry it back to her, I saw a woman in a crisp gray pants suit with a guy holding a camera and wearing jeans and a sloppily buttoned shirt.

  I took the receipt and the credit card back to Andrew and Sylvia. I handed them to him. “Here you are. Sylvia, it was a pleasure doing business with you as always,” I lied, sounding extra chipper.

  She cleared her throat. “Thank you, Grace.”

  “I hope Alexandria enjoys her dress,” I added, hoping to hell that someone would.

  Andrew paused as he put the card back in his wallet.

  “Grace, are you ready?” Kiara called from the front of the store.

  I forced a sweet smile to Sylvia. “I hope you’ll excuse me. We have a reporter here who’d like to feature the store in the newspaper.”

  I wasn’t sure why I’d added that last bit, except for wanting to make a statement that, damn it, somebody thought I was pretty important. OK, maybe they were here for Kiara and not for me, but still.

  “I hope you’re fully recovered soon.” I did mean that part. She was a mean old hag, but I wouldn’t wish cancer on anyone.

  She waved as Andrew rolled her out the front door. I watched them go, my eyes fixed on her wheels as the door closed behind them. I wished her disapproval didn’t hurt so much.

  “Grace?” Kiara asked. “Are you ready to do this?”

  I nodded. “Sure am.”

  Eight

  “On your inside!” someone screamed as I cut left to enter the pack during our scrimmage that night.

  Seemingly out of nowhere, Electra Cal came at me in the middle of a turn. Her shoulder missed my upper arm and slammed into the soft spot just beneath my collarbone. The impact spun me around on my skates, and I went down hard on my knees just off the track.

  “Call off the jam!”

  “Call off the jam!”

  Stunned and in pain, it took my brain a second to realize those voices were shouting at me. I double-tapped my hips with my hands until the jam whistle blasted four times.

  Monica skated over and looked down on me. “You OK, Grace?”

  I was panting, but I nodded. “I’m OK.”

  Medusa joined her. “You’ve got to keep your head on a swivel, Britches. You didn’t even see Electra Cal coming, did you?”

  I groaned in response.

  She offered me a hand and pulled me up. “Your stance needs to be lower too. Your center of gravity is way off.”

  “Thanks,” I said, checking to make sure I hadn’t cracked a knee pad.

  “And pay attention to your bench coach. Goldie scored a few points before you called off the jam.”

  I nodded.

  She slapped my helmet. “You’ll get it next time.”

  I wasn’t so sure. Everything hurt. My body was exhausted, and my brain couldn’t focus.

  Monica and I skated back to our team’s bench together. “You OK? What’s going on with you tonight?”

  “I’m just off my game. Haven’t slept much this week.” I picked up my water bottle and drained what was left of it.

  “It shows. Maybe you shouldn’t scrimmage when you haven’t had enough rest.”

  I tossed the water bottle toward the trash can and missed. “You think?”

  Shamrocker took my place as jammer for the next jam. I reached up to remove my jammer panty, the star cover on my helmet. Medusa pointed at me from the end of our bench. “Britches, if we run another jam, you’re back in as jammer. You’re up next. Get ready.”

  I swore quietly and dropped my hand, leaving the star in place. A minute and a half remained on the period clock. I silently prayed the current jam would last the full two minutes.

  Monica grinned at me. “It’s almost over.”

  “It’s going to be an Epsom salt bath kind of night.” I winced as I stood on my skates.

  Doc Carnage, the other jammer, called off the jam early.

  “You’ve got this, Grace,” Monica said as I skated back out to the track.

  “Keep your eyes on me!” Medusa yelled.

  I gave her a thumbs-up and took my place on the jammer line next to…oh god, Maven. “Good luck, Britches.” The way she said my name made it sound like a curse.

  After a few seconds, the jam whistle blew and we took off. My opponents—Rocksee Rolls, 5 Scar Jeneral, and Bad News Baroness—had formed a tight triangle to hold me back. Black-Eye Candy, their pivot and fourth blocker, was their final line of defense, lurking beyond them in case I broke through the wall.

  Maven was somewhere behind me, but I knew it wouldn’t likely be for long. I had to get through the pack before her to claim the title of lead jammer. Only lead jammers could call off the jam early to prevent the other team from scoring.

  I cut to the right, and the blockers headed me off.

  I darted back to the left, and Candy spun around to stop me.

  I pushed against 5 Scar and Baroness’s melded arms; they didn’t budge.

  Maven caught up with me.

  The wall of blockers holding me back made a hole for her on the inside line, and I took the opportunity to bust them apart. Maven and I collided, and I knocked her sideways.

  My teammates stood and cheered.

  But she didn’t fall or go out of bounds, and just as I passed her team’s final blocker, Maven caught me in the middle of the turn. She angled, and I ducked my shoulder as she slammed into me. I sailed off the track, all eight wheels airborne, and landed on the side of my hip.

  Cackling like a witch, Maven skated backward in the wrong direction toward the pack we’d just escaped. She stopped close to her line of blockers—the ones I’d barely been able to pass—because she knew I had to reenter the track behind her. I swore as I did.

  “Nice try, newbie,” she hissed before skating off again.

  Then her blockers swarmed, reforming their wall in front of me.

  “What the hell kind of play was that shit?” I shouted, pushing against them.

  “That was called Eating the Baby,” Bad News Baroness answered, laughing.

  The referee’s whistle told me Maven made lead jammer. Finally, my blockers came to my rescue. Styx hip checked 5 Scar out of the way, and I skated past them around the track.

  As I rounded the third turn, something caught my eye near the front door. A black police uniform. I straightened.

  Jason?

  A sharp shoulder caught the middle of my upper arm, and Maven let out a guttural scream as she knocked me out of bounds again. This time, I landed on my butt and slid halfway to the front door.

  I pulled my skates under me and pushed myself up. Good god, my muscles were screaming. Trying to catch my breath, I skated back onto the track.

  Just as I caught up with the pack, Maven double-tapped her hips to end the jam, and thereby the scrimmage, before I could score my first point.

  I swore again.

  “Back to your benches,” someone yelled.

  As I skated over, I looked toward the door again. Jason gave a small wave and mouthed the word, “Sorry.”

  What’s he doing here?

  Several of the other girls noticed him too. That was obvious by the hushed whispers happening around me.

  “Is that…?” Monica was pointing toward the door when I plopped down beside her.

  “That’s him,” I said, wiping my sweaty face on the front of my jersey.

  “I thought you decided not to see each other anymore.”

  “I thought so too. We haven’t talked in a couple of weeks.”

  “Good practice, ladies!” Styx called as she skated out in front of us. “Congratulations, newbies, on surviving your first scrimmage!”

&nbs
p; Several of the other skaters clapped. Maven wasn’t one of them.

  “Don’t forget!” Styx shouted. “Saturday is our last weekend practice of the year. Next weekend is the parade—”

  Medusa cupped her hands around her mouth. “Next weekend is also the Slammy Awards!”

  Even for that, everyone was too exhausted to really cheer.

  “Yes, the Slammy Awards too. Anybody have any questions?” Styx asked.

  No one responded.

  She nodded. “See you guys this weekend!”

  “Here. You need this,” Monica said, handing me her water bottle. “And you might oughta skate into the bathroom and wash your face before you go over there.”

  “What’s wrong with my face?”

  Her nose scrunched. “It looks sticky.”

  I drank half her water. “Then it’s a good thing he and I aren’t dating. Thanks for the drink.” I handed it back to her and got up, my muscles threatening to split down the middle. I groaned and skated slowly across the room.

  Jason grimaced as I rolled toward him. “I feel like I almost got you killed out there.”

  I laughed, but I was in too much pain to really find it funny. “You did. What are you doing here?”

  “I have some news.” He gripped his utility belt. “Clay called me today.”

  “Did he tell you that he caught Ebola at the hospital?”

  His head fell to the side. “No.”

  “Does he have an infestation of worms feeding on his few remaining brain cells?”

  Jason’s eyes narrowed. “No. Given this a lot of thought, have you?”

  “It keeps me up at night.” I crossed my arms. “If he wasn’t calling to tell you he’s dying a slow and painful death, I can’t imagine what phone call would be worth you coming to see me in person.”

  “Grace, Clay asked me to dog sit starting tomorrow through this weekend.”

  I froze. “He what?”

  “He asked me to keep Bodhi while he goes out of town for Thanksgiving. Tomorrow morning through Sunday night.” He smiled. “He didn’t say I couldn’t outsource the job.”

  “Jason, are you serious?”

  He nodded.

  Suddenly more energized than I had been all day, I squealed and threw my arms around him. I smushed my hot, sweaty body against his—and certainly not in a good way. “Oh my god!” I was bouncing on my toe stops against him. “I think I love you!”

  Then I realized what I’d just said.

  I stopped and dropped my arms. “I mean…I don’t love you love you…I just mean…”

  I’m getting my dog, I thought.

  “Ha!” I laughed loudly. “Screw it! I’m getting my dog. I do love you!” I hugged him again.

  He laughed and hugged me back. “Grace?”

  I pulled back enough to look at him. “Yeah?”

  “You’re gross.”

  “I don’t even care.” I bit my lip with excitement, then slowly backed away from him. “Thank you, Jason.”

  He bowed his head. “You’re welcome. But it has to be our secret.”

  I held up my pinky finger. “Pinky swear.”

  He laughed and interlocked his pinky with mine. “I told him I’d pick Bodhi up when my shift ends. Would seven be too early to bring him by your apartment in the morning?”

  “Not at all. The earlier the better.” I was still holding his pinky. “Thank you again. A thousand times, thank you.”

  He released my hand and backed slowly toward the door. “You’re welcome. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  I covered my mouth with my hands and squealed into them. He winked and walked out the door. I turned back toward the track, raised my fists into the air, and screamed so loud it echoed around the Sweatshop.

  Despite my exhaustion, I could barely sleep that night. I was wide awake when my cell phone buzzed at 6:47 in the morning.

  It was a message from Jason. On our way. Attached was a selfie of Jason in his patrol car with Bodhi in the back seat behind him.

  I saved the picture to my phone and sent back three red hearts. My boy was on his way!

  My front door buzzed twenty-three minutes later. I pressed the unlock button, then stepped out into the hall as Jason pulled the door open downstairs.

  “Bodhi!” I called.

  Jason released the leash, and Bodhi ran up the stairs. I knelt down and let him clobber me over the threshold to my apartment. He licked my face, his tail wagging so violently that it rocked his back legs.

  “Sorry it took so long,” Jason said, coming up the stairs. “People tend to lock down their brakes when they get in front of a police car.”

  “It’s OK.” I pushed myself up. “I’m just so glad he’s here. You have no idea.”

  He followed us into the apartment, carrying Bodhi’s bowls and dog food. Clay didn’t send any toys or treats. “I have a pretty good idea. I’m going to have to take this uniform to the cleaners to get the stench out of it.”

  I laughed and stuck my tongue out at him.

  Bodhi trotted through the apartment, sniffing the baseboards and rugs, probably checking for signs of canine infidelity.

  “Where do you want me to put this stuff?” Jason asked.

  “On the floor right there is fine. I’ll put it away later.”

  He put the stuff on the floor by the door. “Happy Thanksgiving, by the way. Do you have big plans today?”

  “Happy Thanksgiving to you too. I’m having linner with my whole clan.”

  “Did you just say ‘linner’?” he asked.

  My face felt hot. “Yes. Ugh. It’s one of those family words that make no sense to anyone outside our little haven of craziness.”

  He smiled and shook his head. “No. I get it. It’s not lunch. Or dinner—”

  “It’s linner,” we said together and laughed.

  “What are you doing for Thanksgiving?” I asked.

  “I have to work tonight, so Mom and I will eat early with my aunt and her family. I’m making sweet potatoes. Have to cook them when I get home.”

  “You cook?”

  “Somebody in our house has to.”

  I lifted an eyebrow. “Are you any good?”

  He folded his arms across his chest. “I can hold my own.”

  “That’s good. Maybe you should save me a plate. Our meal is always…interesting.”

  “Interesting?”

  “My mother thinks she’s Betty Crocker, and she’s so not.”

  His brow rumpled with doubt. “It can’t be that bad.”

  “Oh, but it can be. Last year, she decided to deep fry the turkey. There was a fireball in the backyard so big the neighbors called the fire department. Dad hosed the whole thing down with the fire extinguisher.”

  “I think I remember that call over the radio.”

  “Really?”

  He laughed. “No.”

  “It’s not a joke. I’m debating on packing a sack lunch.”

  “I can’t wait to hear the stories. You’ve also got your Black Friday thing this weekend, right?”

  “I do.”

  “Want me to come over and help?”

  My head fell to the side. “Help sew or help run the register?”

  “Neither. Help with the dog,” he said, pointing at Bodhi.

  “Oh! Actually, that would be really helpful. I obviously hadn’t planned on needing someone to dog sit.”

  “No problem. I’ll just plan to come here when I get off work.”

  “Thank you, Jason.” I looked at Bodhi’s stuff sitting in my foyer. “When did Clay ask you to keep him?”

  He hesitated.

  “Jason?”

  “Right before I came by your practice. I couldn’t wait to tell you.”

  “You mean, he was going out of town for a long weekend and didn’t even bother to get someone to watch the dog?”

  “I really didn’t ask.”

  I clenched my jaw. “I hate him so much.”

  “I know you do. But don’t let it
ruin your day. Maybe if he’d planned ahead he would have picked someone better than me and I wouldn’t have the chance to let you keep him.”

  I shook my head. “There’s nobody better than you. Jason, I really don’t know how to thank you for this.” I reached up to straighten the name badge on his chest.

  His eyes followed my hand, then he looked at me with soft, gentle eyes and smiled. “I’m really happy to do it.”

  I believed him. “Can I give you a non-stinky hug this time?”

  “You can always hug me. Stinky or not.” He opened his arms, and I gladly walked into them.

  We stood there a moment past the “just friends” time mark. Then he turned his face into my hair and lingered there a second longer. Finally, Bodhi pushed his way between our legs, and Jason took a step back.

  “I guess that’s my cue,” he said, taking a knee beside my dog. He scratched him with both hands behind the ears. “You be a good boy for your mama.” Bodhi licked Jason’s face from his chin to nose. “Oh geez. Thanks, Bodhi.” He stood and wiped his face on his forearm.

  “Sorry,” I said with a grimace.

  “Don’t be.”

  “I’ll see you tomorrow then?” I asked.

  “Yeah, I’m off duty at six. I’ll need to go home and help Mom get her day started, and then I’ll be over.”

  “OK.”

  He turned and walked back to the door. “You two have fun.”

  Bodhi came over and sat down right on my feet. I laughed and knelt down to hug his neck. “We will.”

  The house smelled delicious when Bodhi and I walked inside my parents’ front door. I stopped, backed up, and checked the number on the outside wall just to be sure I hadn’t walked in to the neighbors.

  Dad came into the foyer and stopped when he saw Bodhi.

  “It’s OK,” I said, going inside and closing the door behind me. “I’m dog sitting for the weekend.”

  Dad’s eyes widened. “Clay’s letting you keep him?”

  “Not exactly.”

  He scowled. “Grace.”

  “It’s fine, Daddy. I didn’t steal him.” I leaned over and kissed his cheek. “Happy Thanksgiving.”

  “Happy Thanksgiving. Need some help?” he asked.

  I handed him the bag I was carrying. It contained a chocolate pecan pie I’d picked up at the store the day before and the newspaper I’d grabbed from the gas station on my way over. I slipped off my coat. “It smells amazing in here.”