Girl at Heart

by Kelly Oram

  I toss the ball up and catch it. “They’re my team. I value their opinions.”

  Jace nods. “And you should…about baseball. This has nothing to do with that.”

  “It does, if they don’t respect me anymore.”

  “Hey.” Jace turns my face toward his and forces me to meet his eyes. “Nobody respects you any less because you dyed your hair and wore a skirt. Most of the team loves your new makeover, and they all like that you’re opening up more with them. I promise, we—your team—are behind you, Charlie.”

  I want to believe him. I even do, to an extent. I’m sure a lot of the guys don’t care that I got a makeover. But the most important members of the team—most important to me, at least—aren’t behind me. I look away from him, depression settling in once again. “Not the whole team.”

  I toss the ball again, and Jace catches it. He sets it aside and takes my hand, tangling our fingers together. “Sullivan’s just worried about you,” he says. I’ve been telling myself the same thing, but it doesn’t make me feel any better. “He sees you changing, but he doesn’t understand why. How can he, when you won’t explain it to him?”

  My shoulders hunch. That was harsh, but he’s right. I’ve been avoiding a real conversation with Eric because the truth is complicated and embarrassing and would require me to admit certain feelings for him. Our brief exchange where we yelled at each other the minute before fourth period started doesn’t count as a conversation.

  “Eventually you’re going to have to be straight with him. You know that, right?”

  I lean my head back against the lockers, close my eyes, and sigh. “It won’t make a difference.”

  I know Eric doesn’t understand what’s going on, but he also doesn’t want to understand. He doesn’t like me acting and looking like a girl. He thinks I’ve gone crazy.

  “It’ll at least help smooth things out between you enough for you to focus on the game.”

  He probably has a point. This drama is affecting my game. I’m sitting here, missing practice and afraid of my team, when we start the playoffs tomorrow. I can’t afford to mess this up. I don’t really believe I have a shot at playing collegiate baseball next year, but if I don’t play, I don’t want it to be because of anything I did or didn’t do. I don’t want to give anyone the excuse they’re looking for not to choose me. Still, the Eric thing isn’t going to be easily worked out. It’s going to have to wait until after the season ends. “I’m not ready to talk to him yet.”

  Jace doesn’t look surprised to hear that. He nods and blows out a breath of acceptance. “Fine. You’re not ready to talk to him. But regardless of what Sullivan thinks, or Jones or Escobar, if you won’t go out there for them, then go out there for the rest of us. You’re our best hitter, our only catcher worth anything, and whether you know it or not, you’re the heart and soul of this team.”

  My gaze snaps to his in surprise. He can’t honestly mean that. He smiles gently, as though he knows he caught me off guard and doesn’t want to overwhelm me. “Having you on our team over the last four years has taught all of us what it really means to have passion for the sport,” he says. “We’ve watched you battle the odds and ignore all the people who laugh at you or say you can’t do it. You prove them all wrong over and over again. You work twice as hard to gain the respect that the rest of us get just for showing up. And no matter what happens, you love the game. Nobody respects you more than this team.”

  My chest burns at the compliments. I never imagined that my tenacity could mean so much to the team. I didn’t realize they were looking up to me. I always figured they were just putting up with me. No one’s ever been unkind, but I’ve never really been part of the group. I’ve never been invited to join them all when they hang out outside of baseball. Has that been my fault? Was I the one shutting them out?

  “Blonde hair and pink lip gloss aren’t going to change what the guys think about you.” He nudges me again. “If anything, it’s just going to make them all fall in love with you, and I’m going to have to start fighting them off.”

  A snort escapes me before I can stop it.

  Jace shakes his head and smiles ruefully. “You think I’m joking, but I’m not. We all love you, Charlie. You’re a girl, but you’re our girl, and we’re all proud of you.”

  Our girl. I like the sound of that, but I’m not about to let Jace know that. I give him a lopsided smirk and say, “Sounds more like I’m the mascot.”

  He laughs. “I like to think of you as our secret weapon.”

  I chuckle, and he bumps my shoulder again. “Come on. The team’s waiting for us, and I should get out of here before I really do get suspended or something.”

  He climbs to his feet and holds his hand out to me. I let him pull me up and grab my gear. Jace takes it from me and slings it over his shoulder. I smile wryly. “Always such a gentleman.”

  Jace grins and holds out his hand to me. I consider it for a moment, then decide why not? I can’t help the little smile on my face when I slip my hand into his waiting palm.

  Eric’s eyes are on me the second I come outside. I can’t read the look on his face, but I feel the weight of his stare. I look away first, and my throat thickens. How did it come to this?

  Jace tightens his grip on my hand as though he knows I’m hurting. We walk out to the field hand in hand, and the guys give us a load of crap for it. Reynolds most of all, because, beside Jace and the guys, he’s the most comfortable with me now. He’s realized it’s okay to tease me. “Hey, lovebirds! So nice of you to join us. Just what exactly were you crazy kids up to in there?”

  He waggles his eyebrows, and I laugh. I like Reynolds. No one’s ever been playful with me the way he is. The guys tease me, and Jace flirts with me, but Reynolds is different. He teases me, but he’s soft about it. He teases me like I’m a girl. Not like I’m one of the guys. He would never joke about my thunder thighs. His teasing is lighthearted and playful. It’s fun. It’s exactly what I need to keep myself together under the weighted stares of my best friends.

  Mood suddenly lightened, I smirk at him. “Wouldn’t you like to know.”

  His grin doubles. “Nah. I don’t need details. Well, maybe just one. Are you and my boy King official yet?”

  Now I’m blushing. Dang it. And I was doing so well. “Uh, no. We’re friends.”

  “Friends who hold hands, and kiss each other’s cheeks, and go to prom together?”

  My face is on fire. Before I can say anything, Jace is at my back. He grips my arms, leans around me, and kisses my cheek again. “Yup,” he says to Reynolds. “We’re those kinds of friends.”

  I gasp, and Mark snorts a laugh.

  “Reynolds! King! Quit flappin’ your yappers and get busy with your drills. Hastings! Get over here.”

  “Yes, Coach,” we all three chime in unison.

  Ignoring the curious eyes on my back, I head over to Coach Stanton, willing my face not to stay too red. He should be reaming me for being so late to practice, but there’s nothing but concern on his face. “Sorry I’m late, Coach. Won’t happen again.”

  He gives me a long, measured look. “You okay?”

  I’m not, really, but I can keep it off the field. Right now, baseball is one of the only things that makes sense. “I’m good, Coach.”

  “You sure?”

  I nod. “Positive.”

  Coach Stanton narrows his eyes, considering my promise. Finally, he nods. “Good. Then you know the drill.” He points down the first base line. “Ten laps.”

  A small smile creeps across my face. It’s the usual punishment for being late to practice. That’s why I love Coach. He cares, but he’s fair and tough at the same time. No special treatment for girls having mental breakdowns. “Yes, Coach.”

  Monday begins the longest week of my life. After practice, Kevin and Diego ask if I still want the guys to come over to watch the game. Eric waits a little way off, as if he doesn’t know whether I even want him near me. My heart hurts too badly
to say yes. I just don’t have it in me to pretend things are okay all night, so I tell them I’m not feeling well, and I go home to my big, empty house where I watch the game by myself, wishing my dad was home with me instead of in Philly with the team. It’s a long, lonely night.

  Tuesday, we win the quarterfinal, but I play like crap. Nobody says anything, but I feel the weight of their questions. It doesn’t help that everyone has their families there except me. Dad is in St. Louis, facing the Cardinals. I love him, and I love baseball, but sometimes I hate his job. I wish he were home more often. Then again, I’m feeling his loss more this week because the guys aren’t spending the evenings with me like they usually do. At this point, I’m not sure if it’s me keeping them away or if they’re staying away because things are so off between us.

  By Friday, I’ve not spoken to any of my best friends aside from a few words here and there. I’m so depressed I can’t fake a smile anymore. Everyone’s revved up for the semifinal after school today, but I can’t muster up the enthusiasm.

  “You okay?” Jace asks after third hour, where I hardly said two words.

  “Not really.”

  Jace opens the cafeteria door for me, and my eyes immediately find Eric. I stumble to a stop. Eric has company. Shelly Turner is sitting beside him, along with two other girls I don’t recognize. I do not want to spend my lunch break watching Shelly and Eric flirt or whatever. I’ll vomit.

  I turn toward the football player/cheerleader table. Leila will let me join her. Jace grabs my wrist before I even get a step. “Don’t do that. Don’t run.”

  I want to scoff, but that’s exactly what I was doing. Jace slides his hand over my wrist until he reaches my fingers. He clasps them tightly. “Come sit with me and Mark.”

  “I don’t want to watch that all lunch.”

  Jace smirks. “Reynolds and I can keep you distracted. We’re going to have to suffer them at prom tomorrow anyway. Better to have a test run now.”

  I sigh. “I hate it when you make so much sense.”

  Jace grins and tugs on my arm until I fall against his side. Mark is sitting opposite Eric at the long table. When we approach, Shelly and her girlfriends stiffen and stop talking. In fact, everyone stops talking as if they’re all expecting to see a show. I refuse to give them one. I can be mature about this. I mean, I sit with Jace a lot now, and Eric never gives me a hard time about it. I can do the same for him and Shelly.

  Reynolds spots us and pushes Cabrera over. “Shove down for Jace and Charlie.”

  Cabrera laughs and shakes his head. “I see how it is. Playing favorites,” he laments, but he happily scoots over, creating enough space for both Jace and me to sit. Unfortunately, that places me directly across from Shelly. I force a smile, determined to play nice, but all I get for my efforts is a narrowed gaze.

  “Darn right Charlie’s my favorite,” Reynolds calls down the row to Cabrera. “She’s hotter than you, and she smells a lot nicer.”

  “Like strawberries,” Jace agrees, giving me a secret smile, remembering the half hour he stood around smelling a million different lip glosses.

  Cabrera sighs. “Yeah. Yeah. Charlie, why’d you have to go and get so hot? I’m not the team favorite anymore.”

  “You never were, Cabrera.” Diego throws one of his fries at Cabrera.

  “Yeah,” Jace says. “And Charlie’s always been hot. You were just too dumb to notice.”

  “Agreed,” Springer says, surprising us all. When I gape at him, he shrugs. “Intimidating, but definitely hot.”

  “Can you all stop objectifying Charlie?” Eric snaps. “She’s your teammate.”

  I startle and look up just in time to catch the look of death Eric shoots the entire table. Shelly and her girlfriends look startled, too, and then I get a death glare from all of them.

  “Our hot teammate,” Cabrera mutters, making the guys all snicker despite the glare Eric is giving them all.

  My face heats up, but I roll my eyes. “So the semifinal today…that’s going to be fun.”

  Kevin laughs at the subject change, but it works. The guys move on to the topic of the game and how West Ridge is going to be tough to beat. I let them talk and open my lunch container. Reynolds leans over and sniffs. “What torturous meal are you going to eat today?”

  I laugh. “It’s cilantro lime chicken breast with black bean quinoa. It’s good. Taste.”

  I fork a small bite of chicken and hold it up to Mark’s mouth. He sniffs it and frowns. “I’ll stick to my PB&J, thanks.”

  “It’s a sad life you lead, Reynolds,” I tease and enjoy my yummy flavor-rich chicken.

  “What? No cheeseburgers and pizza like the rest of the team?” a snide voice mutters. “I thought you were supposed to be one of the guys. I’m surprised to see you don’t eat like one.”

  I pause with my fork halfway to my mouth and gape at Shelly. Is she really making fun of me for eating healthy? She’s got a salad in front of her, for heaven sakes.

  “Are you kidding?” her friend mutters, giggling. “Have you seen her thighs?”

  “Oh my gosh, I know,” the other girl says. “If I were her, I wouldn’t eat at all.”

  The three of them burst into giggles.

  I don’t know how to react. They’re hitting a sore spot. As I’ve mentioned before—and my friends have mentioned before—I have catcher’s thighs. I don’t like having it pointed out. I’ve also never been bullied before. No one has ever been so outright rude to me. I get a lot of crap for being a female baseball player, but I’ve never been attacked on such a personal level, and for no reason. It’s a new feeling, and I hate to admit it, but their jabs are hitting their mark.

  “Whoa,” Jace says. And it isn’t a friendly whoa. Neither is the glare he’s giving them. “If you guys want to be catty and cruel, you can do it at your own table.”

  “Yeah, leave,” Reynolds says. “We don’t want you here anyway.”

  Eric doesn’t say anything because he has no idea what just happened—he’s in some kind of debate with Diego and Kev about the National League vs. the American League. It makes me feel better that he’s not paying Shelly the least bit of attention, but I hate that he would date a girl who could be so mean.

  Shelly laughs like Reynolds was joking. (He wasn’t.) “Oh, come on,” she says. “Charlie knows we were just kidding. It’s a girl thing, right, Charlie?”

  It’s a mean girl thing. And they totally weren’t kidding.

  I may be new to being bullied, but I’m already over it. “What are you even doing here?” I ask. “You don’t belong here.”

  Shelly scoffs at my snub. “I came to sit with Eric.” She puts her hand on his arm as if claiming him. I hate that it bugs me. “We had to finalize our prom plans. We have prom court obligations, you know. Because we’re nominated for King and Queen. Together.”

  As if I care? I would never want to be nominated for queen, and I know for a fact Eric doesn’t love being on the court, either.

  Eric looks over, as if he’s just now remembering Shelly is there. He looks down at the way she’s gripping his arm, and I snort at the confusion on his face. “What’s up?” he asks.

  Shelly gives him a big, sugary sweet smile. “Oh, Charlie and I were just talking about prom. I was telling her how we’re all going in a limo together and having dinner at LeMont downtown.” She smirks at me and pets Eric’s arm. “It’s a super nice restaurant overlooking the river.”

  Eric frowns at her and then turns his confusion on me. I shrug. We hadn’t been talking about that at all. “She already knows that,” he says. “She’s riding in the limo with us, and her dad’s the one who got us the reservation.”

  Shelly’s smile falters for a split second. Her eyes flick to me again before she pushes that bright smile back into place. “Oh. I didn’t realize you were coming with us.”

  The look on her face right now… Ha! I arch an eyebrow at her. “Um, the guys are all my best friends, so yeah, I’m coming.”

&nbs
p; “Really, it’s more like you’re the one coming with us,” Mark says to her. “So be nice to Hastings, or we’ll forget to pick you up tomorrow.”

  It’s totally rude, and I could totally kiss him for it.

  Eric’s eyes snap to me like he knows he missed something. I shrug again. She deserved it.

  Shelly’s smile tightens ever so slightly. “Oh. You’re so funny, Mark. I’m glad Charlie’s coming with us. It’ll be fun!”

  Why don’t I believe her?

  “So, who are you going with?” she asks me.

  I jerk my head to my right. “I’m going with Jace.”

  Shelly studies Jace for a minute. Jace gives her a big smile and slides his arm around me. “Can you believe she said yes?” he jokes. “I’ll be the luckiest guy at prom.”

  I chuckle and shake my head. Jace and his lines. He grins at me.

  “Oh, that’s so great!” Shelly says. “You guys are so cute together!”

  Why does she sound like she’s suddenly speaking in ALL CAPS? She’s super annoying. I can’t imagine what possessed Eric to ask her to prom. Yeah, she’s hot, but he still has to spend hours with her. Whatever. She’s his problem, not mine. I won’t be obligated to pay attention to her.

  “How long have you guys been a couple?” Shelly asks me. “I didn’t realize you were dating anyone.”

  Why the interrogation? And why would she have any idea who I’m dating? We’re not friends. “We aren’t a couple,” I tell her. “We’re just really good friends.”

  I hope that doesn’t hurt Jace’s feelings, but it’s the truth, and I don’t know what else to say. I sneak a worried glance his way, and he smiles at me again, all ease as usual. He’s not upset. That’s a relief.

  Shelly, however, is now clenching her jaw. “Oh,” she says stiffly. For once, it doesn’t feel like she’s shouting. She takes a deep breath and pushes a big, fake smile onto her face. “Well, that’s okay,” she says. “Maybe prom can change that.” She looks at Eric, and her smile turns sly. “Prom is great for getting couples together.”

  I almost snort again. Obvious much? I feel sorry for her because there’s no way Eric will start a relationship with her. He’s too focused, and he doesn’t have time for that kind of a distraction. Especially because Shelly seems like she’d be a high maintenance girlfriend. That would never fly with Eric.