by Lynne Jaymes
The crowd settles back down and gets quiet as the ump bends down to sweep off the plate. I take my place in the batter’s box, not even taking practice swings, just shouldering the bat and keeping my eyes steady on the pitcher. When I was a kid, this kind of pressure just about killed me. I couldn’t stand the silence of the crowd as everyone waited to see if you’d choke, the calls from the other dugout as the players tried to screw with your swing or the disappointment in my father’s eyes if I didn’t come through. But now I live for these moments, when everything else fades into the background and it’s just me and a guy with a ball in his hand.
I don’t wait. I don’t want to give the pitcher any opportunity to get one past me. I can see from his wind up that he’s going to throw a fastball straight down the middle and I’m more than ready for it. I hold my breath, forcing myself not to reach for the ball, but to wait patiently until it’s in just the right spot before I swing. It’s a good hit, I can feel it the second the ball leaves the bat, but I don’t know if it’s enough as I take off running. I barely see the base as I round first on Coach’s call and keep going toward second, Mitch somewhere up ahead of me. I don’t look into the outfield, but glance over at the third base coach whose arm is windmilling in the signal to keep running. Somewhere in the back of my head I can hear the crowd, aware that everyone in the stadium is on their feet screaming, but all I can really hear is my breath coming hard and my feet as they pound the dirt, Coach’s face red, and his veins bulging as he screams for me to keep going. I see the catcher straight ahead of me, crouched down with his glove up, ready to grab the ball. I have to beat it. I have to be faster than the little white ball as it whips through the air toward the two of us. I turn my head against the flying dirt as I put my leg forward into a slide, reaching with my foot to stop myself from overshooting it, one hand still on the plate as the ball hits the mitt with a loud thwack, half a second too late.
Instantly the dugout empties and everyone cheers as we jump and hug each other for the win. Backs are pounded, fists are pumped and slowly everything settles down as we head back to the dugout to get our stuff.
“Fucking awesome,” Mitch yells, slapping me hard on the arm. “I knew you’d do it the whole time.”
“Nice job, Branch,” Coach says, walking by with his clipboard, his mustache twitching and I can see he’s happy.
“Rowan and Mitch made it possible,” I say, nodding to the bench.
“But you made it happen,” he says, tapping the clipboard. “Good things are in store for you Branch, I can feel it.”
“Thank you sir,” I say, packing up the rest of my gear.
After a quick shower, I’m grabbing my backpack out of the locker when Mitch finally walks in from the field.
“That was fast,” he says, pulling off his jersey and tossing it into the laundry bag.
“Yeah, I have a lot of shit to do in between games this week.” I glance at him, but he seems relaxed. I guess the resumption of small talk means that we’re back on okay ground.
“Cool. Catch you tomorrow,” he says, pulling a towel around his neck and giving me a quick high five.
I walk out of the locker room to the heat of the late afternoon and see Nina leaning against the wall of the gym. She looks up as I pass, so I can’t ignore her. I have to say something. “Hey. Mitch is just getting in the shower so he might be a little while.”
“Thanks,” she says, standing up straight. She looks around and then walks over to me. “I need to ask you something.”
Shit. Here it comes. She and Jenna are friends—I’m positive she told her everything. “Sure.”
“Look—I know what’s going on with you, and I don’t get it. What’s the big deal?”
“What are you talking about?” I step closer to her, my heart pounding. Damn. I knew she’d figure it out. I should have stayed far away from Nina.
“You. And what you are, as opposed to what you’re pretending to be.” Nina looks me up and down. “You’ve been keeping your hair cut short and I’m guessing those green eyes are real, but seriously, it’s as plain as day. Mom’s side or dad’s?”
I let out a long breath. There’s no use denying it to her any more. I just have to see what I can do to minimize the damage. I look around to make sure we’re still alone. “My mom’s black if that’s what you’re asking.”
“So you’ve been passing this whole time?” Nina grins at me and I hope I don’t see any hatred there. “Why are you doing so much to hide the fact that you’re mixed? I don’t get it.”
It’s exactly what I expect her to say. I shake my head. “You don’t get it. People know what you are the minute they look at you. They see you, they think ‘black girl’ and they know what box to put you in. My whole life people have asked me ‘What are you?’ I’m not black, I’m not white, I’m definitely ‘other’. At home, everyone knows my parents so everyone knows I’m mixed, but when I came here to check out the school with my dad, everyone just assumed I was white. What was I supposed to do?”
Nina’s eyes get wide. “Um…tell them the truth?”
“And how exactly do you have that conversation? How do you bring something like that up after all this time? And the second it came out everyone would treat me differently. Do you have any idea what it’s like to be the only one who’s different?”
Nina puts her hands on her hips. “Only every day of my life.”
Shit. Of course she does. I almost forgot who I was talking to. “Fine. Sorry.” I lean toward her. “Why did you come here anyway? Garvin State’s not exactly the most diverse school in the world. Or even in Texas. You, me and half the football team make up most of the diversity in this place.”
“Simple. Merit scholarship for engineering. Mostly white school or not—they want to pay me to come study, I’m in.”
I look at her fine features and dark skin. “So, what if you could pass? Be just like everyone else around here. You’d do it in a second.”
She gives an insulted snort. “No. I wouldn’t.” Nina fixes her deep brown eyes on me. “Because that’s not who I am. And it’s not who you are. What would your mama say if she knew that you were passing this whole time? It’s like denying she exists.”
And that’s what gets me. Because Mom would kill me. Worse than that, she’d be hurt. I can’t even imagine the look on her face if she finds out what I’ve been doing. “I didn’t do it on purpose, it just sort of happened and by the time I figured it out, it was too late to say anything. Besides, you should see the way the rest of the guys treat Rowan just because there’s a rumor that he’s gay. Just because of a fucking rumor he can barely come into the locker room anymore. I don’t want to be that guy.”
She shakes her head. “It wouldn’t be as bad as you think. People will forgive a lot if you can hit a ball or score a touchdown around here.”
“It wouldn’t be the same. No matter how many home runs I hit this year, it wouldn’t be the same.”
“You can’t keep lying like this. Eventually it’s going to come out.”
I reach for her, but she flinches, so I drop my hand. “Look,” I say, the panic rising in my chest. Everything I’ve done this year has been to make people see what I want them to see and now it’s going to get all fucked up. “You can’t tell anyone. And I mean anyone, okay? This is none of your business.”
Her dark eyes are steady on me. “It became my business when you screwed with my friend. Who I dragged out that night to meet you so the whole thing is sort of my fault.”
“I didn’t mean for that to happen,” I say quickly. “I like Jenna, I really do. And if things were different…” If things were different, she’d never have given me a shot, I’m sure of that. Small-town Texas girls don’t go out with mixed-race guys.
“But things aren’t different. And you led her on and then bailed on her,” Nina says, the anger radiating off her body. “Who does that?”
Assholes do that. And now I’m one of them. “I tried to stop. I did. But things go
t out of control. Look, me leaving her alone is doing her a favor. You know that.”
“That’s bullshit and you know it. You at least owe Jenna an explanation.”
I can feel my face getting hot. “I can’t explain it to her, and neither can you. Promise me you won’t say anything! To her or Mitch. I’ll try to fix it, I swear. But you have to let me do it my own way, in my own time.” I suddenly realize that my fate is in her hands. A few well-chosen words and everything I’ve built this year will come crashing down. “Promise me.”
I see her hesitate, but she finally nods. “I won’t say anything. It’s not my place. But you should. This is ridiculous.”
“Thank you,” I say, relief flooding my body.
I walk to my bike and am turning the key when she smiles and shouts, “Seriously Ty, the truth will set you free.”
I stomp on the starter as the bike roars to life.
If only.
Chapter Six (Jenna)
“Crap! Hang on a second.” I grab Courtney as she starts to get out of the car. I duck down in my seat, but Ty doesn’t even look our way as he roars into the parking lot on his bike. I want to hate him, or even better, feel absolutely nothing for him. One glance tells me that neither of these two things is close to happening.
Courtney looks over at Ty and then at me. “It’s him! The god of baseball from down the hall?”
“What?” Just the sight of Ty makes my heart hurt. It was bad enough before, but now I know what he’s hiding under his black t-shirt and perfectly worn jeans. As I watch him disappear through the glass door, all I can picture is the look on his face as he lay next to me in my bed. The taste of him. The feel of him. And the minute he walked out I knew that was it. I got it wrong—I thought we had something special going, but for Ty it was just one night.
Courtney watches me watching him. “You went out with him didn’t you?”
“Sort of.” I’ve got to snap out of this. My dancing has sucked and I didn’t even finish that paper for English. It’s ridiculous. But I can’t help it.
“Sort of?” Courtney says as we climb out of the car and pop the trunk. “Holy shit, he’s so hot. And a guy in art history said that he’s heading to the majors next year.”
“Not helping,” I warn her.
“Is that who was over the other night? I knew it!”
I bend down to grab some of the grocery bags so she can’t see my face. “How did you know someone was over?”
“Your black cami, the one that you wouldn’t even let me borrow, was tossed on the floor on Saturday night and your door was closed.” She smacks me on the arm. “I can’t believe you didn’t even tell me!”
The plastic bags are ripping into my fingers as we head for the door. I purposely didn’t tell her because I didn’t want any ‘I told you so’s.’ This is painful enough without Courtney piling on. “I didn’t sleep with him,” I say.
Courtney laughs. “What, he couldn’t get it up? I hear that’s what happens on steroids.”
“No.” I scowl at her. “And he’s not on steroids.”
“So what happened?” She holds the door open for me with her foot.
“Nothing happened! And keep it down.” These hallways echo and I really don’t need to see Ty right now. Three days of not calling, of avoiding me in the halls. Exactly like I knew it would be the moment he slipped out of my bed.
“Obviously something happened,” Courtney says in a harsh whisper as we climb the stairs.
I just shrug and shake my head, trying not to let images from that night come flooding back. “We fooled around a little and then he went home. No big deal.”
“Fine.” She leans her head toward me. “So how was he? As hot as he looks?”
I bite my lip and nod my head. “Hotter.” My mind keeps wandering back to that night at the bar when we talked about all the things we wanted out of life. As he drove me home, my body pressed up against his on the bike. As his tongue darted out to taste my skin. Why am I torturing myself? It obviously didn’t mean anything to him, so how come I can’t get it out of my head?
The hallway’s empty as we turn the corner, and I can’t help but glance at his front door as we walk by. Somewhere in there, only a few feet away, Ty is going about his regular business, probably not even thinking about me at all. I balance the bag on my hip as I open our door, not saying another word until we’re safely inside. “But he bailed, and has been avoiding me ever since. I was just a momentary diversion as far as he’s concerned.”
“Bastard,” Courtney says with such force I have to admit it makes me feel a tiny bit better. We’re roommates, not necessarily best friends, but it’s nice to have her on my side. “Is that why you’ve been moping around the house since last weekend?”
I didn’t think anyone else noticed my pity-party. Now I’m a little embarrassed. “I’m not moping. It was one night—it didn’t mean anything to him. Or to me.”
“Oh come on. You wouldn’t come out with us on Sunday and you’ve barely eaten anything in days. Moping.”
“I’m not moping. I’m fine,” I insist. How can I explain the heaviness in my chest every time I think of him? About how I don’t want to wash my sheets just so I can catch the smallest whiff of his scent when I’m sleeping? About how just the sight of him makes me feel a total sense of loss? All this from a one-night make-out session. I should be smarter than this.
“Well he’s not worth it,” she says, unpacking one of the bags and shoving some lettuce in the fridge.
“No kidding.”
“I tell you what. Why don’t we get take-out, grab this container of Ben & Jerry’s.” She waves a carton of ice cream at me. “And watch Pride and Prejudice all night?”
A night in my pajamas wallowing in my own misery actually sounds pretty good right now. “The BBC version?”
Courtney squints at me. “There’s only one Mr. Darcy, and Colin Firth is it.”
“Deal.”
“Releve. And plie. Releve. And plie.” Madame taps out the time to the music with the big wooden stick she always carries with her. “I want to see more extension! More lift.”
I can feel her eyes burning into me as I work the sequence and try to stare straight ahead. Any more bobbles and she’ll pull me out of the recital, she’s practically said so. Nina’s next to me and I just concentrate on her, try to match her height and her timing. Madame stands motionless in front of me, nothing moving but her stick as it thumps on the ground. Finally, after an eternity, she moves on down the line to scare the living crap out of some other poor dancer.
The music stops and I want to collapse in a heap, but instead I force myself to stay standing and stretch my legs. It’s always the weak gazelle that gets cut from the herd and devoured by the strongest lioness. I can’t afford to be the weak gazelle.
“Bon, ladies,” Madame says. “We have less than a week of rehearsals left before the show. I expect everyone here on time and on task. Have a good evening.”
I turn to grab my bag from the cubbyhole in the front, but Madame calls me over to the mirror. Nina glances at me and mouths, “I’ll wait outside.” Nodding quickly to her, I pull my dance bag onto my shoulder and go to hear my fate, my heart pounding and tiny beads of sweat collecting at my hairline.
“Ms. Taylor, I am concerned that you are not up for this part next week,” she says, her eyes intent on me in the mirror.
“I am Madame,” I say quickly, wiping my face with my sleeve. “I’ve been working on the solo during my open studio time. I’ll be ready.”
She purses her lips and turns to look me up and down. “Your jumps are leaden, your feet are heavy and your spirit is dark. You are not letting the outside world impact your art, are you not?”
“No Madame.” But we both know that’s a lie.
Madame looks beyond me to the rest of the dancers as they crowd the waiting area. “Because there are many girls who are waiting in the wings to take your place.” She pauses. “There is alwa
ys another girl waiting to take your place.”
I nod quickly and swallow hard. She’s not letting me go yet. I have to get it together.
“We will see after tomorrow’s rehearsal. If I am still not satisfied, we will have to make some changes.”
“You will be,” I say, resisting the urge to throw myself at her feet. “I promise.”
“Good then.” She breaks into what passes for a smile. “Go and rest. It will be a long week ahead of us.”
“Yes Madame. Thank you.” I walk away as quickly as possible while still trying to retain a shred of my dignity.
“Holy crap,” Nina whispers when I meet her at the front door of the studio. “Did she replace you?”
“Not yet,” I say, following her out. “But she will if I don’t stop screwing up.”
We walk a few steps down the sidewalk. “He’s not worth it you know,” she says.
Just thinking about Ty makes my stomach clench. “I know. I feel like an idiot for letting it get to me. I thought the days of feeling like crap when some lame guy doesn’t call were over.”
“It’s not you. I’m sure Ty’s got his own shit going on that has nothing to do with you.” Nina looks suddenly interested at the cars in the street as she says this and I’m a little suspicious. Mitch and Ty are best friends after all.
“How do you know? Did Mitch say something?” I hate the flicker of hope that runs through me.
“No. It’s just a feeling I get is all.” She takes out her keys but still won’t meet my eyes. “You need a ride?”
I hesitate. I could press the issue and see if I can get more info, but that would probably come off as more pathetic than I am now. “No thanks. I’m going to walk to the Union—a friend from home is helping me with a philosophy paper and we’re going to get a bite to eat.”
“All right. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“See ya.”
The sun is just starting to set behind the trees as I walk on the path toward the center of campus. This is the best time of year here—hot but not crazy hot during the day and warm at night. The kind of evening that makes me sad for the day I have to leave Texas. There are plenty of people still out, walking home from late classes or toward the library for an all-night study session, a ridiculous amount of them happy-looking couples. Soon the bell-tower looms above me and I climb the steps to the Student Union.