“You mean, treat broadcasting as more than a contest?”
“Why not? The winning team gets admission to ASU’s School of Broadcasting. I was never going to go that route, but what if I did? What if you did?”
My throat is tight as I put the thought into words: “What if we did?”
He smiles. “I like how you say we.”
“We?” I repeat.
“Your lips get all puckery.”
“Puckery is not a word, Blondie. I’m not sure I want a partnership with someone who’s unfamiliar with the English language.”
His eyes spark with humor an instant before he grabs my shoulders. “That’s it. You’re getting tickled for that.”
I shriek as I’m suddenly flipped on my back. He doesn’t have to tickle me, though, because I’m already laughing. I’m laughing at every ridiculous thing he’s said to me since we met. At the realization that I’m going to get to hear whatever it is he says next.
He’s laughing, too, his chest shaking until he finally buries his head in the curve of my neck. We lie like that until the laughter dies away, and I have to wipe tears from the corners of my eyes. His weight feels good, and I’m sad when he finally moves, shifting until he’s propped up on one forearm.
His eyes are still full of laughter, but there’s also a stillness to him that speaks of something important. “So what do you think?” he asks. “About the broadcasting? You want to try it?”
My heart thuds with a mix of fear and excitement. My fingers are a little sweaty as I find the edge of his shirtsleeve and grab hold. “I guess it can’t hurt to try.”
I ignore my heart that’s saying, Yes, it can.
Chapter Thirty-One
I’m in so much trouble.
“Let me come with you,” Garrett says.
We’re standing in front of his house, by my truck. In the dark.
Full dark.
My heart’s beating faster with each passing second. “Are you crazy? My mom is already going to be so mad.”
“Let her be mad at me. I’ll take responsibility.”
“No.” I unlock the door and toss my purse in. “It’ll be a million times worse if you’re there.”
“I’m good with mothers. Really.” His smirk is full of self-satisfaction, which is one of the things she’ll hate most about him.
I give him a quick kiss that catches the corner of his mouth. “I have to go. Now.” I hop in the truck.
“Fine. Call me later?”
If I still have possession of my phone. “Yes. Bye.”
I’ve heard of the walk of shame—this definitely feels like the drive of shame. I keep hoping the porch light will be off when I get home. That Mom won’t have noticed how late it is. But when I round the corner of my street, the light is on.
Of course she noticed.
This is not still afternoon, which is when I promised I’d be home. Not dusk when I told Garrett I had to go. Not pre-moon, which is a new category Garrett made up as an excuse for me not to leave. An excuse I jumped on.
It was such a perfect day, I didn’t want it to end. After Vision Quest, we watched a baseball movie after all, Sandlot, reciting most of the lines with the characters. We even did some work, brainstorming questions for the baseball feature. Somewhere along the way, we ended up sharing our most embarrassing moments. (Garrett farted before delivering a speech in fourth grade English. I accepted a perfect attendance award in third grade with the back of my skirt stuck in my underwear.) We shared mosts and leasts and bests and funniests. Mrs. Reeves made us meatball subs and salad for dinner.
Garrett blew off poker.
I blew off my mom.
He’s going to get ribbed a little, and me? I don’t know. I’ve never been late. Never ignored a phone call or a text. I did reply to the second text—but only to say I was fine and would be home soon. That was over an hour ago.
Rather than come in through the garage like I usually do, I fit my key into the front door. Maybe I can sneak by her. Pretend I’ve been home for a while. I turn the knob so slowly it doesn’t make a sound. Even I don’t hear the door as I push it open. The TV is on in the family room—perfect. I close the door with a tiny click and…silence.
I peek around my shoulder and…oh crap.
Mom is standing in the hall, her feet bare and her arms crossed. There are splashes of red on her cheeks, and it’s not blush. “Where have you been?”
“At Garrett’s.” I swallow. “I texted you.”
“You texted that you were coming home.” Her chin trembles, and I realize it’s not anger laced through every tense muscle. It’s fear. “And then you didn’t. I was worried, Josie. This is not like you.”
“I know. I’m sorry.” I feel queasy at the hurt on her face. “I kept meaning to leave and then…I lost track of time.”
“Lost track of time?” Her throat works over a swallow. “Were you having sex with that boy?”
My mouth drops open. “Mom!”
She strides toward me where I’m frozen by the front door. She reaches for my upper arm and smells me. Smells me?
“Mom!” I pull free. “That’s disgusting.”
“You smell like him.”
“I smell like his cat. Her hair was all over the couch.”
“Which means you were all over his couch.”
“Not doing that!”
I’m shocked when a tear runs down her cheek. “I’m so afraid you’re going to make the same mistakes I did.” She covers her mouth with one hand while more tears join the first. The sight triggers a pang of guilt. I’ve seen her cry before, but it’s never been because of me.
“Mom, don’t. It wasn’t like that.”
“You said you’d be home this afternoon. My mind has been racing.”
“Can we at least talk in the kitchen? It feels weird here by the door.”
She looks around and seems to realize we’re both in the small entryway. “I need a cup of tea.”
I follow her to the kitchen, where she grabs a tissue from the box on the counter and then pulls open the drawer of tea leaves. “You want one?” she asks.
“No, thanks.”
She busies herself with the tea, but it’s only a few seconds before she says, “Are you going to tell me what you were doing all this time?”
“We were watching movies. That’s it. And then we got hungry and his mom made us dinner. She was there nearly the whole time.”
“She made you dinner?”
An awful feeling makes me turn to the sink, and I see the pots on the draining board.
“I made you stroganoff,” she says.
It’s one of my favorites, but Mom rarely makes it because the prep takes forever. “I didn’t know. You should have told me.”
She forgets the tea and faces me. “I tried to when I called. You didn’t pick up.”
“I’m sorry. I should have. We weren’t doing anything,” I finish lamely.
Her eyes search my face, and I try not to look away. “You’ve never lied to me before.”
“I’m not lying.”
“You didn’t come home when you said you would. You didn’t pick up when I called. Things like this never happened until you met that boy.”
“His name is Garrett,” I say, though she already knows that. “You know we’re doing this contest. You’ve listened. You’ve heard how good we are.”
“Is this still about proving something to your father?”
I swallow, my throat chalky and dry. This is the moment to tell her what Garrett and I were talking about tonight. That we’re going to take it seriously. But how can I do that now? She’s already upset, and she’d go off the rails if I told her I was even considering a future that included baseball and a baseball player. Plus, we only just agreed to try. There’s a good chance it won’t come to anything. I hesitate and then settle for partial honesty. “It’s turned out to be more fun than I expected. And we’re better than I expected, too. We have a real chance to win, so why not go
for it?”
“And when it’s over? Is it…will it be over with the two of you?”
My shrug is uncertain—that’s 100 percent honest. “I’m not sure. It depends on him and whether he’s going to play baseball. But his arm is a mess, and I really think he’s getting it out of his system.”
New tears seep from her eyes.
“Why are you crying?”
“Because we went through so much with your father. I stopped keeping track of the times he said he was ready to leave baseball. The promises made and broken. I don’t want you to put your trust in a boy you told me yourself is just like him. I don’t want you to end up with the same regrets I have.”
“I won’t.”
“You tell yourself that, but I know what it’s like to be attracted to the wrong guy. You can lose sight of common sense and a whole lot more.”
I nod because I do know what she means. Because it scares me, too. “I’ll be careful. I promise.”
She nods, but her chin trembles. “Protect your heart, Josie. I couldn’t stand to see it broken again.”
Now I’m the one who’s leaking tears.
When I hug her, she hugs me back so hard I feel the bones of her wrists pressing into my back. It reminds me how strong she is—how strong she had to be when Dad left. He didn’t love me, but she always did. Whenever she had a choice, she chose me.
I push aside thoughts of Garrett and broadcasting. “So are there leftovers?” I ask. “Or did you eat all my stroganoff?” I’m not hungry, but I’m glad for whatever impulse made me ask. Mom gives me her first faint smile. “I saved you a plate. I’ll heat it up.”
She goes to the fridge, and I pull up a stool at the counter. That’s when I spot a small box with a red bow by the coffee pot.
“What’s that?”
“Take a look,” she says. The box has a white cardboard top that slowly lifts from the heavy bottom. Inside are business cards. Hundreds of business cards. I pull out one and read:
Josie Walters
AromaTher Co-President
New tears spring to my eyes. “Oh, Mom.”
“You like them?”
I nod. It’s the future we’ve been planning for more than two years. It’s not a risk like Garrett. It’s not an unknown, and it doesn’t require a fallback plan. I should never have told Garrett I’d think about broadcasting.
It scares me that I did.
It scares me even more that I don’t want to take it all back now.
Carefully, I replace the card and close the box.
Chapter Thirty-Two
Our lunch table has gotten a little more crowded over the past week. Cooper, Tucker, Jason, and Anthony keep appearing as if this is the baseball player table now. Avi is still suspicious of the new species sitting with us. Jasmine, on the other hand, keeps sneaking looks at Tucker as if she wishes he were on the menu.
Today it’s Cooper, Tucker, and Anthony, but they have enough food to feed a dozen people. It’s Southwestern Fare Friday, and our table is covered in paper trays of tortilla chips drenched in nacho cheese and sprinkled with slices of green jalapeños. My eyes watered at the smell, but the guys have nearly downed four trays along with beef tacos and chicken burritos. It’s like watching an episode of National Geographic where the lions take down an antelope.
Mai and I have our Contraband Quesadilla, which is what we call the cheese-filled tortilla, because her mom would shudder to see Mai eating cheese so orange it probably glows in the dark. Mai is also eating her packed lunch so that the healthy balances out the unhealthy.
“Try this,” Mai says, handing Anthony one of her green veggie sticks.
“That looks gross,” Cooper says as he tears open a packet of sugar and pours it into his mouth.
I gag. “You did not just do that.”
“Where did you even get that?” Jasmine asks.
“I stole it from the Bagel Barn.”
“This doesn’t look like a French fry.” Anthony sniffs at the stick.
“You’re going to be arrested,” Mai tells Cooper.
“And it’s the wrong color,” Anthony adds.
“If you get busted, I’ll bring you a bird in prison,” Tucker offers.
“Why would you bring him a bird?” I ask.
Tucker chews through a taco. “It’s from a movie. Birdman of Alcatraz.”
“Dude!” Cooper fluffs his chin hair. “That movie was awesome.”
Anthony finishes chewing. “It wasn’t horrible.”
“Now you can have an orange one,” Mai says. “They’re better.”
Mai is expanding Anthony’s world, or so she tells him. I think she’s trying to pawn off the veggie sticks.
Tucker and Cooper are still going on about the movie. I’m getting good at multiple conversations.
“The scene where he tells the bird to leave?” Tucker begins. “You remember that?” He throws a hand over his heart and I think he’s trying to impersonate an actor. Or maybe a statue. Then he starts talking in a gangster voice. “You don’t wanna be a jailbird all your life, do ya? You’re a highballin’ sparrow. So you fly high, old cock. Go out there and bite the stars—for me.”
Mai and I exchange surprised glances. That was actually…impressive.
“Wow,” Jasmine breathes.
My voice is a little awed too. “Tucker. That’s poetic. I can’t believe you memorized that.”
Tucker gives me one of his dimpled smiles. “I was a kid when I first saw that movie. I got to say cock out loud and my mom couldn’t yell at me.”
Mai and I groan in unison.
Cooper gives him a high five. “Gotta love a good cock quote.”
Heads turn at the loud word. Avi hides his face in his hands.
“What?” Cooper says, looking around at the neighboring tables. “It’s a bird word.”
“Hey, that rhymes,” Tucker adds. They both grin like they’re Shakespeare.
“Orange is better. But still not a French fry,” Anthony says.
Mai nods. “But now you’ve had your vegetables for the day.”
Anthony lights up with a slow grin. He’s nothing if not chill—his word, not mine. I’m not sure how this is still a thing. Mai’s list of qualities for a potential boyfriend includes Ivy-league brains, goal-oriented, and ambitious. Definitely not…chill. And here they are, still hanging out. Nothing official, Mai says. But they text, they go for drives. Mai met him at the school last night for ice cream sundaes, which she said were delicious—and gave me a smile that made me think she wasn’t talking about the ice cream.
I’m trying to be cool with it. The girl traffic around his locker has stopped, which is great, but it doesn’t change the fact that they come from different worlds and they’re headed in opposite directions. I think his friends are just as confused by it as I am.
“You and Garrett have been lighting it up this week,” Cooper says now.
We have been, but I try to look humble.
He scrapes the last bit of cheese off a paper tray. “G said it’s getting serious with you two.”
My heart clenches mid-beat. “It is not.”
His smile hooks up on one side. “Broadcasting, I mean.”
“Oh. Well.” I swallow my embarrassment and attempt to form a complete sentence. “We’re playing around with the idea.” I haven’t said anything to my mom. I still can’t bring myself to do it. Mai has agreed to support me in my plan of denial and lying.
“Josie is weighing her many options,” Mai says, making it sound oh-so-impressive.
“Does she weigh herself naked?” Tucker asks.
I throw one of Mai’s veggie sticks.
“Hey, not a potato one,” Anthony says.
That gets the table laughing—including me. I like these guys more and more. Too much, maybe, because now I’m nervous at every game. I want them to make it to State. I want them to win. They don’t talk about it a lot, but I know how important it is. Especially the seniors who aren’t going to keep playi
ng. Like Tucker and Anthony. They want to leave Cholla with a State trophy and enough memories to last for whatever comes next. I hope they get it. They have a shot if they can keep the bats hot.
The guys gather their trash and there’s some talk about Fridays and lockers and laundry. Please tell me they wash their gym clothes more than once a week? On the other hand, I don’t want to know.
They get up to leave and that reminds Avi and Jasmine about some notes they were going to exchange. It’s suddenly Mai and me as the table clears.
“Later,” Anthony says, and gives Mai a slow smile that raises the temperature of the entire cafeteria.
“That was hot,” I say when he’s out of earshot.
“He’s very hot.”
“Maya Senn!”
“Stop worrying.”
“I can’t help it. How far have things gone with you two?”
“Just kissing. Lots of kissing.”
“Really?” I bite my lip. “You know I like Anthony. But is he really boyfriend material for you?”
“No,” she says. “But I’m not looking for a boyfriend. I just wanted to have some fun.” She lets out a long exhale. “But it’s getting…complicated. I have to break it off.”
Before I can press her for more, my phone vibrates with an incoming text. I pull it from my back pocket and see Garrett’s name on the screen. I tilt it so Mai can see. “He shouldn’t have his phone in class.” I click open the text.
GARRETT: Meet you by the math wing for kissing and groping?
“Aww,” Mai says. “That’s sweet.”
ME: Get your mind out of the gutter.
GARRETT: I’ve tried. Can’t.
ME: I’m wearing my sandals.
GARRETT: That worked.
I laugh out loud as I slide my phone away.
“You can thank me now.”
“For what?”
“For getting you to the baseball game that first day.”
“Uh-huh,” I say. “And what happens when the whole thing goes to shit?”
“Who says that it will?”
“He’s still working every Saturday with Kyle Masters.”
“Because the lessons are paid for. He’s going through the motions.”
“But he’s still going through them.” I like him so much and the uncertainty scares me. I can see us together. I can see us broadcasting games, working together. I can see a future I want more clearly every day we’re together.
Announcing Trouble Page 15