Gwen stands and readjusts Mike’s ring on her finger. “I’ve gotta go. ” And she does.
Without another word. I shove my hands in my pockets and rock on my feet, waiting for Mrs.
Rowe to follow Gwen’s lead. I’ve got a ritual to complete.
Obviously having no intention of leaving, Mrs. Rowe leans her shoulder against the dugout entrance. “I wasn’t kidding about what you said, Ryan. You showed a lot of talent in my class last year. Between that and what I just heard, I’d say you have the voice of a writer. ”
I snort a laugh. Sure, that class was more interesting than math, but… “I’m a ballplayer. ”
“Yes, and from what I hear a fine one, but it doesn’t mean you can’t be both. ”
Mrs. Rowe is always looking for a book convert. She even started a literary club at school last year. My name isn’t on that roster.
“I’ve got a friend waiting for me. ”
She glances over her shoulder toward
Chris’s truck. “Please tell Mr. Jones that his paper is also due on Monday. ”
“Sure. ”
Again I wait for her to leave. Again she doesn’t. She just stands there. Uncomfortable, I mumble a goodbye and head for the parking lot.
I try to shake off the irritating itch embedded in my neck, but I can’t. That moment on the mound is hallowed ground. A need. A must.
My mother calls it a superstition. I’ll call it whatever she wants, but in order for me to win the next game, I have to stand on that mound again—by myself—and figure out the mistake I made with my curveball.
If not, it means bad mojo. For the team. For my pitch. For my life.
With his head tilted back and eyes closed, Chris sits in his old black Ford. His door hangs wide open. Chris worked his ass off for that truck. He plowed his granddaddy’s cornfield this summer in return for a leaky truck that rolled off the line when we were seven.
“I told you to head home. ”
He keeps his eyes closed. “I told you to let the bad throw go. ”
“I did. ” We both know I didn’t.
Chris comes to life, closes the door, and turns over the motor. “Hop in. We’ve got a party to go to that will make you forget. ”
“I’ve got a ride. ” I motion to my Jeep, parked next to his truck.
“My goal is to make sure you ain’t gonna be fit to drive home. ” He revs the engine to keep it from stalling out. “Let’s go. ”
Beth
OFFICER MONROE PUSHES OFF THE WALL the moment I slip out of the girls’ bathroom.
“Beth. ”
I don’t want to talk to him, but I’m not real giddy for the long-lost uncle reunion either. I pause, folding my arms over my chest. “I thought I was free. ”
“You are. ” Officer Monroe has clearly mastered the Johnny Depp puppy-dog eyes.
“When you’re ready to tell me what happened last night, I want you to call. ” He holds out a card.
Never going to happen. I would rather die than sen
d Mom to jail. I brush past him and walk into the lobby. Hurting my eyes, the sun glares through the windows and the glass doors. I blink away the brightness and spot Isaiah, Noah, and Echo. Isaiah leaps to his feet, but Noah puts a hand on his shoulder and whispers something to him, nodding to the left.