Announcing Trouble
Page 22
Mine finally has everything it wants.
Chapter Fifty
It’s dark—after midnight—and there’s no one here but the stars and us.
“I can’t believe it,” I whisper. “I’m starting my life as a high school graduate by breaking the law.”
“It’s only a crime if you get caught.” Garrett says this as he’s perched on the outside of the broadcast booth, his feet balanced on the metal rungs of the bleacher support, one hand gripping the side of the wall and the other trying to shove in the Plexiglas covering the window. Turns out that’s how they protect the booth during the five days it rains in Phoenix. With a sheet of Plexiglas that must be screwed in from the inside.
“Enough, Blondie,” I say. “You’re going to break your other arm, and then how are you going to play?”
Just then, the Plexiglas caves, clattering as loudly as a bag of metal bats. I wince and search the baseball field expecting to find a security guard. But all I see in the weak moonlight are discarded maroon caps, strips of gold confetti, and empty beer bottles. It’s hard to believe that a few hours ago, we were marching across the football field accepting our diplomas.
The door of the booth opens, and Garrett grins, a streak of dirt across his chin. “No problem for a finely toned athlete like me.”
“I think the actual phrase is finely honed.”
“That too.” He gestures to the counter and I follow his lead, sitting on the linoleum and then swinging my legs so they dangle out the window.
“What a night, huh?” Garrett says.
“It was pretty perfect.”
The strains of “Pomp and Circumstance” are still floating through my head. The feel of the plasticky gown and the indent that might still be on my forehead from the elastic around the cap. Walters is a terrible last name for a processional, and all I could see were the backs of everyone’s head. Once I got to my seat, I first searched the stands to find Mom. James was sitting beside her, trying to capture it all on his video camera. Mom has been so happy since they got back together. She’s even concocted a new fragrance for him that includes clary sage—an essential oil for optimism.
From there, I searched the rows for all my friends. I was like Javier at the bookstore—I wanted to be sure everyone was in their place. Cooper, Tucker, Anthony—proud members of Cholla’s State Champion baseball team. Avi and Jasmine. And of course Garrett, who draws my attention no matter where he is.
I didn’t have to search for Mai because she was up on the stage.
“You’re not sorry to miss Lock In?” Garrett asks, bringing me back to the present.
Seniors had the option of spending the night at Alleys, an indoor theme park, where chaperones would monitor the grads and once the doors were closed no one would be allowed in or out. Mai and I had talked about going, but Jason decided to have a party at his house. We’d all gone, including Jasmine and Avi, and when we got there it turned out to be an even bigger group than I expected. There were band kids and some of the football guys and Scottie was there along with a few friends of his I knew from math lab. I loved seeing the groups mix in a way they rarely had in the halls of Cholla. If this was how the real world worked, I was going to like it a lot more.
Just before midnight, Garrett had led me from the party and to his car. I wasn’t surprised when we ended up here.
Where it all began.
“And to think it all happened because of a game of pool chicken.”
Garrett smiles. He’s heard the story of spring break and the pool where Anthony and Mai met.
“She gave a great speech,” he says. “I knew she was smart. I didn’t know she was so wise.”
“Wise? She told everyone she didn’t have the answers.”
Garrett reaches for my hand. “I liked the Henry David Thoreau part. It was simple but genius.”
I nod. Mai started with a quote most of us had heard: “Go confidently in the direction of your dreams.” Then she called it bullcrap. She said few of us were confident, few of us had real direction, and not everyone had the luxury of following a dream. But she finished by saying that Thoreau got one word right: “Go.” That’s the trick. Forward movement. You can’t take a next step until you take the first one.
“I’m going to miss her so much,” I say.
A moment of quiet passes, and I know we’re both thinking that Garrett is leaving, too. I squeeze his fingers. He couldn’t quite honor his promise not to go anywhere, but he got pretty close. He arranged another tryout—this one in Tucson. The coach said yes, and he’ll be leaving in August, but only going a hundred miles south.
We both tip our heads back, and for a second I see us from a distance, poised on the edge of this booth, a tiny moment of calm before we’re pitched into a future we can’t predict.
I know he’s thinking the same thing when he says, “If you hadn’t helped me, we’d be going to ASU together in the fall.”
I shake my head because I’m done looking back. “We’re still going to get our chance to be broadcasters.”
His fingers tighten over mine, and he kisses the back of my hand.
The day they posted the contest winner, Garrett and I were at my house, playing our own game of chicken. The computer was on the counter and one click of the refresh button would show us the results.
“You do it,” I said.
“No, you.”
“You should. It was your idea.”
“You made it happen.”
“Oh for heaven’s sake,” Mom said, and she stabbed at the return button.
We were still laughing when the results flashed and there were our names. Garrett Reeves and Josie Walters.
We both froze, a little in shock.
“Congratulations!” Mom cheered and squeezed both of our shoulders and then headed back to the office to give us some privacy.
We both had to hit the refresh button two more times before it finally sank in.
“Are you disappointed?” he asked me then. “Not to be pursuing broadcasting?”
“Not really,” I said, and I meant it. “I’m glad we did it, though. You took a place full of bad memories and turned it into something good.”
“And I wanted to be close to the team, but I also wanted to matter. You gave that to me.”
“We’re incredible, aren’t we?” I said.
We enjoyed annoying everyone with our victory for the next few days, and during the school’s final assembly, we stood at the podium and accepted a check for five thousand dollars to the baseball program. My own check for one thousand dollars is still sitting on the kitchen counter. I’ll be adding it to the car fund. I’m going to need my own transportation in order to be at all of Garrett’s games. On June twenty-sixth, we’ll be calling an inning of an Arizona Diamondbacks game. I got my revenge, and found that I don’t really need it, or want it.
“You sure you’re okay with me going?” Garrett asks me now. “I don’t know how long I’ll be in Tucson. Maybe one year, maybe two. Or maybe I’ll wash out.”
“Garrett.”
“Maybe if I did, it would be the best thing.”
“Why would you say that? You’re hitting with power, you’re locating the ball, you’re making contact with nearly every pitch.”
“Because if I do well, it’s all the crap you didn’t want. Moving around. Small towns and bus rides and never knowing.”
“I know what it is, Garrett.”
He doesn’t say anything, but I can feel that he’s holding words back.
“What?” I ask.
Softly, he says, “If I do well, I’m worried that you’ll leave me.”
His words break my heart, but they also heal it. I know how much he loves baseball, but I also know how much he loves me. He tells me so every day. But more than that, I feel loved. I don’t have to be anyone but myself. Maybe that’s why the idea of moving doesn’t scare me anymore. Wherever we are, I’ll be at home with Garrett.
“I love you, and I won’t leave bec
ause the life is hard,” I say. “It doesn’t scare me like it used to. I think it’s because I’m figuring out what I want for me, too. So I’ll have my life the way you’ll have yours. Wherever we end up, it won’t be about you or about me. It’ll be about us.”
“I love how you say the word us.”
I smile. “I thought you loved how I say the word we.”
“I love everything about you, Josie Walters.”
“Even my sandals?”
“Almost everything about you.”
He pulls me close. The baseball field is spread out in front of us. It’s always been part of my past and now it’ll be part of my future. A game where a bunch of guys spend their lives trying to get home. I press closer to Garrett and smile. It makes sense now that I’ve found mine.
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Acknowledgments
I had a lot of help writing Josie and Garrett’s story.
A huge thanks to Chris Cron who has been a part of professional baseball for over 30 years and answered questions about all aspects of the game. I also had help from my favorite ballplayer in the world—my son, Kyle—who pitched through college and helped me get the lingo right. Love you, Kyle! Thanks to Darren Zaslau who told me everything I needed to know about sports broadcasting. And to my husband, Jake, a fan of all things baseball, who provided ideas and inspiration. I love you more than I can say.
Thanks to Caryn Wiseman, my agent, who seems to wear a million hats, helping me through every stage of the process. I also want to thank my critique partners and friends who always keep me sane. Terry Lynn Johnson, Christina Mandelski, Marty Murphy, Erin Jade Lange, Amy Nichols, Tom Leveen, Gae Polisner and Nate Evans. And to Rachel, who loves reading romance as much as I do. Thanks for helping me brainstorm ideas. I love you, Daughter.
A special thanks to my editor, Stacy Abrams. Ten years ago, in 2009, my first novel was edited by Stacy. I am beyond lucky to work with you again, Stacy. Your editorial genius has only grown over the years. More thanks goes to Judi Lauren. Your insightful comments helped make this story so much better. To the whole team at Entangled Publishing—thank you for bringing this book to life.
Finally, a heart-felt thanks to my readers. Your blogs, reviews, notes and support are appreciated more than you know.
About the Author
Amy Fellner Dominy is the award-winning author of books for teens, tweens, and toddlers. She started writing and submitting stories when she was a teen herself. Other young adult titles include A Matter of Heart, The Fall of Grace and Die for You. Amy lives in Phoenix, Arizona with her husband and a puppy who is training them. Visit Amy online at www.amydominy.com or follow her on Instagram at @amydominy.
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