Singled Out

by Sara Griffiths

  For the rest of that night, I occupied myself with homework, trying with every ounce of my brain to understand Trig. I didn’t really want to think about what Sam had told me. I decided it would just be easier for me to be angry with him than to try to decide if he was legitimately sorry or if he was just trying to trick me. A person could lose her mind trying to figure all this out. I was only seventeen, after all. My brain was going to explode if this craziness kept up. Focus on school. Focus on getting stronger for baseball season. Just focus.

  After our conversation, whenever I saw Sam in the hallways between classes, something had changed, or switched. He looked at me, but I avoided him. He tried his hardest to make eye contact with me, and I tried my best to look anywhere but at him.

  It was so hard. Part of me needed someone to trust. And I wasn’t sure how much longer I could play the loner.

  Chapter 13

  That Friday, I truly tried to focus, but my brain let me down. On my first math quiz after the Thanksgiving break, I got a D. The following Friday, my brain failed me again, and I only made a C.

  The next day was the SATs. I had worked through some test prep books that Mrs. Richards had lent me, but I figured that, by this point in my high school career, I knew what I knew and there wasn’t much I could do about it.

  That Saturday, I sat in the Hazelton auditorium with about fifty other kids and finally took the SATs. They actually weren’t that bad, but I felt relieved when they were over. I was proud of myself for not running out on it, and for tackling something I had feared.

  There were now two weeks until Christmas break. That meant two more math quizzes and one more test to try to make up for my previous C and D.

  The Monday after the SATs, I was in the bubble working with the pitching coach. He had driven me over early on the short bus so we could get some time in before the guys came over for batting practice.

  It was so cool to be on that enormous domed baseball field. You felt like you were outside on a warm spring day, even when the weather outside was cold. I liked standing on the mound and looking up at the rafters and seeing the bright white light that made the entire bubble glow.

  Coach Madison and I first worked together on some stretching exercises, and then I threw a few. We talked a lot about control and how to place the ball right where you wanted it to go. Eventually, Coach Davenport arrived with the guys. He approached Madison and asked, “Hey, Tommy, how about we do some real batting practice against some real pitching today?”

  “What’d you have in mind?” said Madison.

  “I got ten guys here for batting practice, and you got a pitcher, right?”

  “I do,” he said, nodding in my direction. “What do you think, Taylor?”

  “Fine by me,” I said. “I haven’t seen any real batters since last summer.” In fact, I was excited to try out on actual batters some of what Madison had been teaching me.

  “Okay, Davenport, we’ll be out there in ten.”

  I felt myself kick into pre-game mode. I walked over to the water fountain and wet my hands. I ran them through my hair, pushing it away from my face before slamming my hat down to hold it back. I didn’t have anything to tie my hair back with, so I would have to work with it down today.

  Each guy would get three warm-up pitches and then three real pitches before rotating. A couple guys were in the field just to shag the balls and toss them back in. Most of the guys were sophomores and juniors, but I recognized a few seniors.

  First guy up was Chan, a sophomore. I lobbed him three balls, and he connected nicely, sending each one to deep center field.

  “Okay, Dresden, give him some heat,” Coach Madison said from the first-base side.

  I smiled at him and nodded. I wound up and threw. Thwap! I heard the ball slam into the catcher’s glove. I loved the sound of that echo. The boys in the dugout hooted. “Woo, Chan, I felt the breeze on that swing. She got you on that one. Woo!” This was going to be fun.

  Chan missed the next one and didn’t even swing at the third. He hung his head and went off to talk to the batting coach.

  The next two batters went down just as easily. Maybe this prep-school stuff wasn’t going to be any more challenging than my old high school team or my summer league. Not again, I thought. I need a challenge.

  And then, there he was, standing on the left side of the plate, digging his cleats into the batter’s box and taking a few practice swings—the captain of the team himself, Sam Barrett. A lump formed in my throat, and I looked out into center field for a moment. I tucked my glove between my legs, took off my cap, and forced my hair back with my fingers before putting my cap back on. Then I put my glove back on and played with the ball, repeatedly slamming it into my glove. Coach Madison had told me to save my curve ball. And I was glad I did, ’cause I felt like I was going to need it now.

  “All right, Dresden, three warm-ups!” Coach Davenport yelled from behind the plate.

  I gave Sam his three meatballs. He smacked two deep into right field and lined one up the middle.

  Now the game was on. I so badly wanted to make him swing and miss. Unable to control myself, I wound up and delivered my curve ball first. Sure enough, the ball flew past his swinging bat. He backed out of the box and looked right at me. Pointing his bat at me, he tapped his cap with it, smiling—you know, the kind of smile that said, “Oh good, a challenge,” as if he, too, had been waiting for just this moment.

  But then he totally surprised me—he walked around to the other side of the plate. He’s a switch hitter. Is righty his better side? I guess I’ll find out. He stepped into the box and dug his feet into the dirt. One fastball coming up.

  I heard the bat make contact with the ball. Ting! The ball sailed over second base and rolled into center field—a base hit in any league. Barrett got a hit off me!

  I stood on the mound and returned his smile. As much as it hurt to give up a hit to someone trying to ruin my life, I was thankful I had met my match. It was right to come to this school. I was going to get the challenge I needed.

  Of course, now I had to beat him on this last pitch. I took my glove off and cracked my knuckles.

  “Uh-oh, Barrett, now you’ve pissed her off,” Madison said with a laugh. “Get the gun on this next one, Davenport!” he said, still laughing.

  On the last one, Barrett stood frozen. It was in the catcher’s glove before he even saw it.

  “Seventy-nine!” Davenport yelled.

  Barrett walked back to the dugout, and I danced—well, on the inside anyway.

  After practice, we rode back to school on the bus. My arm was sore from all the pitching, and I might have overextended myself on that last fastball to Barrett, but I decided the pain was well worth the victory. Madison had given me an ice pack and warned me against throwing my arm out—something people were always cautioning me about. I envisioned my arm one day suddenly detaching from my body and heading straight for the batter, and then me tossing my used arm into the nearest garbage can. “You see, I told her she’d throw her arm out,” the coach would say.

  After we returned to school, I got off the bus and walked up the blacktop path toward the Richardses. I was exhausted, but I still needed to study.

  My cell phone buzzed inside my jacket. “Unknown Caller.” I answered anyway.

  “Need a study partner yet?” the voice asked.

  “Barrett, how did you get my number?”

  In his most innocent voice, he said, “I’ll tell you over Trig.”

  “When are you going to quit with this?” I said.

  “When are you going to quit?” he asked.

  “I don’t quit—anything,” I said boldly.

  “That’s obvious. Did you enjoy embarrassing me on the field today?”

  I smiled and said, “You did hit one of them.”

  “Big deal.”

  “It is a big deal. You obviously don’t realize how good I am. You know the last time a guy got a decent hit off me?” Stop flirting, Taylor. You h
ate him, remember?

  “I have a feeling you’re going to tell me.”

  “My sophomore year,” I said.

  “You are good. I guess I should be proud of my one little hit then, huh?”

  “You should be.” Stop it. Stop being nice!

  “Okay, so get cleaned up, eat, and I’ll meet you at the library at 7:30,” he said.

  “Bye, Sam,” I sang, hanging up. I needed to stop enjoying talking to him. But it was so hard not to be flattered by the attention. He looked so good staring me down from that batter’s box today. And he was good. It didn’t bother me that he was obviously one of the best ballplayers I had ever come up against.

  I then wondered if the big jerk would really be at the library waiting for me when he said he would. Would one tutoring session hurt? I needed to get a good grade on this next quiz. After all, it had been over a month since the dance, and he hadn’t tried anything. Maybe I could trust him. I just wished I had proof he wasn’t a big two-faced liar.

  I couldn’t sit still that night. After I finished my History paper, I couldn’t bring myself to do my Trig homework. I kept thinking of Sam Barrett sitting in the library waiting for me. I could always just wander over there and see if he was really there, and if he wasn’t, I could go ahead and finish my homework in the library.

  I knew I had to get out of my bedroom, or I was never going to relax. My stubborn will to ignore him was slowly losing out. Something about him staring from under that batter’s helmet had gotten to me.

  Before I knew it, I was standing in front of the mirror, brushing my hair and putting on clear lip gloss before grabbing my book bag and heading over to the library. I walked down the aisles to the spot where I ran into him last time. I sat down at the desk and tried to study, but really, I was just waiting to see if he would show. I heard a rustle of books and a jacket unzipping in the cubicle opposite me. I couldn’t see anyone, and no one could see me. I began to hear whispers.

  “Hey, Captain,” said the first voice. “You studying?”

  “Yeah, I have a Calc test this week. Why? What’s up?” Sam whispered back.

  “We had our weekly council meeting tonight and you didn’t show.” Now I recognized the other voice as Tuttle’s, who continued, “Thought you might be sick or something.”

  “Nah, just studying. Sorry, man. I totally lost track of time.”

  “No prob, but we need to fill you in on Plan B.”

  “Plan B?”

  Tuttle’s voice got quieter. “Yeah, you know, getting rid of enemy number two.”

  Barrett sighed. “You guys haven’t given up on that yet?”

  “No, man, we’ve got to get back at this place for what they did to McCarthy. Besides, this whole thing was your idea in the first place. You know, the guys have been talking, and we’re not feeling the love from you lately. You miss meetings, and when you’re there, you never say anything.”

  “Yeah, sorry. Just got a lot of stuff going on these days.”

  “What? With your parents again?”

  “I don’t really want to talk about it,” said Sam. “If you want, I’ll meet you guys tomorrow.”

  “Cool. Usual place?”

  “You got it.”

  There was a quick slap of hands, and then nothing else. I think I had my proof. He was trying to help. I tossed a note over the desktop: “What’s the difference between sine and cosine? –A Trig Failure”.

  He stood up at his desk and leaned over the top of the cubicle. “Hi,” he whispered, giving me the biggest smile.

  I couldn’t do anything else but smile back. At that moment, I asked myself, What are you getting yourself into, Taylor?

  Sam pulled his chair around to my cubicle and began teaching me everything he knew about Trig. Not only was he really smart, but he was surprisingly patient, even when I asked him to repeat every other thing.

  After about an hour and a half, my brain was worn out. I wasn’t sure if it was from the studying or from the mental stress of sitting next to him for so long.

  True, my guard was down, but I was pretty sure I could trust him.

  Now, it was more about not letting him know how attracted to him I was. Yes, he had found it in himself to protect me from his stupid Statesmen friends, but I couldn’t assume that meant he was also interested in me. I let out a big yawn.

  “You’re beat, aren’t you?” he said.

  “No, I can keep going if you want,” I said, trying to suppress another yawn.

  He laughed quietly. “I think we’ve done enough for one night.”

  I nodded. “Honestly, I think I stopped listening twenty minutes ago. I’m sorry.”

  “It’s okay. Same time tomorrow?”

  “If you have the time . . . I mean, I’m sure you have studying of your own to do,” I said, feeling a little guilty he’d be spending so much time on me.

  “It’s no problem.” He started packing his book bag. “So tomorrow, then? Same place?”

  I got up and slung my bag over my shoulder. “Okay. I really appreciate it.”

  “You know I wanted to do this weeks ago.”

  “I guess.”

  “So, just one question,” he said as he got up from the desk.

  “What?” I asked as we walked slowly, side by side, toward the exit.

  “Why did you finally decide to trust me?”

  I felt guilty about my earlier eavesdropping, so I said, “I figured I’d just take a leap of faith.”

  “And if it proves to be a bad leap?”

  “Then you’d better make sure you’re wearing a cup next time you bat against me,” I said, opening the door for him.

  He raised an eyebrow and smiled.

  Chapter 14

  I spent the next few nights in the library sitting shoulder-to-shoulder with Sam Barrett. It was the best time I ever had studying. After we finished one session, he walked me back to the Richards house. It took a good ten minutes, and I enjoyed every moment with him in the dark.

  “So, I’ve been meaning to ask, why were you guys so upset about what happened to Mike McCarthy?” I turned to him.

  “You don’t know?” he asked, looking surprised.

  “I know he was expelled for missing curfew, but what’s that got to do with me and Gabby?”

  “Well, he is kind of the reason you’re here,” Sam said.

  “What do you mean?”

  “Well, the abridged version is that Mike, who was in my class, was rumored to be having an affair with one of the teachers, Ms. Abernathy.”

  “Ms. Abernathy? Oh, the one suing the school?” I said.

  “Yeah. They fired her last spring, which is when they threw Mike out of school.”

  “So what does that have to do with me?” I said.

  “Well, Abernathy sued the school, saying they were discriminating against women, and that they were looking for any reason to get rid of her. There was a lot of bad press. A lot of the alumni stopped making donations,” said Sam. “You and Gabby and Kwan were supposed to make Hazelton look good again. You know, bring in some girls, prove the school’s not sexist. You get the picture.”

  “So Gabby was right.”

  “About what?”

  “She figured our being offered scholarships had something to do with money.”

  He nodded. “You have no idea how much some of the alumni donate to this place.”

  “And that’s why they told Gabby she could come back, even after they thought she was stealing—because they were afraid to lose more donations,” I concluded.

  “Exactly.”

  “I guess this should piss me off, huh?” I said.

  “I don’t know. Does it?”

  “I’m not sure, to be honest. I guess they’re using me for good press, but I’m kind of using them, too.”

  “You are?”

  “Yeah. Well, I’m using them for baseball,” I said. “And my dad is using them to help get me into college.”

  “Didn’t college recruiters scout
your old school?”

  “Yeah, sometimes. They saw me pitch and were thrilled to talk to me, but then they saw my grades. My dad thinks if I can just get decent grades here, scouts will assume I must be smart.”

  “You didn’t have to take the entrance exam, did you?” he asked, smiling and shaking his head.

  “Nope. Neither did Gabby. The headmaster said our grades were fine.”

  Sam laughed. “They do whatever they want here. They just change the rules whenever it suits them.”

  “So that’s why the Statesmen were angry about Mike?” I asked, kicking at a rock on the walkway.

  “Yeah. Mike was a good guy, and the school didn’t buy his side of the story.”

  “Do you think he had an affair with the teacher?”

  “Nah. She’d never have done that,” Sam said, shaking his head. “She was a beautiful woman, but she was too responsible to do something like that.”

  “Did you ever ask Mike about it?” I asked.

  “Yeah. He said all he did was give her a ride to her car one night when it was raining downtown. He was really into her, but nothing happened.”

  “But somebody saw them together?” I said.

  “And turned it into a big scandal,” he said.

  “A lot of games go on around here.”

  “And you’ve only been here a few months.”

  “Speaking of rules and games, what about Plan B?”

  Sam didn’t say anything at first. He had a look of shame in his eyes. “I’m sorry about all this, Taylor. I hate being a part of this stupidity. I—”

  “Barrett, relax. It’s okay. Just tell me what I should watch out for,” I said.

  “Promise you won’t be mad?” he asked, stopping and turning toward me.

  “Spill it, Barrett,” I said, as I stopped walking.

  “They figured since your grades were bad, they’d just make sure they stayed that way, so you’d flunk out.”

  I crossed my arms. “And you’re supposed to be helping me fail Trig?”

  “That’s what they think, but I guess the joke will be on them when you ace your quiz tomorrow.”