Stealing Second: Sam's Story: Book 4 in the Clarksonville Series

by Clanton, Barbara L.

  “Aay, lo siento, muchacha. You know I can’t keep anything from her.” Susie made puppy dog eyes at Marlee.

  “Gag me.” Sam rolled her eyes. “It’s not looking good for the lake house, you guys. I have an idea, though.” She’d have to run the idea past her parents first, but it shouldn’t be a problem.

  “What’s that, baby?” Lisa asked.

  “I thought Daddy might change his mind if he actually got to know you guys, so I thought maybe if you wanted to, uh...” Sam couldn’t help the vulnerability she felt as she tried to invite her friends to the mansion. She hadn’t invited friends over since her eighth birthday party. Her parents had started a tradition of giving out lavish and expensive party favors every year, and after a while, it became clear to Sam that her friends weren’t there to celebrate her birthday. They were there for the expensive stuff they would go home with— Barbie Dream Houses or iPods. Sam refused to have any friends at the house after that. Things changed when she met Susie in ninth grade, though, and Sam took a chance and invited her over. Susie had been the only one since then. And Lisa. Once.

  “Do you guys want to come back to the house after the playoff games on Saturday and go swimming and have lunch and meet my parents?”

  “Absolutely yes.” Lisa gave Sam a tight hug.

  “That sounds like fun,” Marlee said. “I’ve never been to your house.”

  “Marlee,” Susie said, “Sam’s house isn’t exactly a house.”

  “It’s not?”

  “Nope.” Susie chuckled. “It’s a tent.” Sam’s mouth flew open at the lie. Susie put up a defensive hand as Sam tried to smack her on the arm. “It’s a cardboard box actually. They live under the highway.”

  “You lie like a rug.” Sam pushed Susie playfully. At Marlee’s confused expression, Sam said, “It’s a big house.”

  “It’s a mansion,” Lisa clarified.

  “Cool,” Marlee said. “I’ve never been in a mansion before, either.”

  Abby, the Nor’Easters’ lanky shortstop, strode by. “Hey, it’s the

  Clarksonville clique.” She patted Sam on the back. “You guys better get it in gear. Coach already has the pitching machine fired up.”

  “Crap,” Sam said. “We’re right behind you.”

  Marlee shut the back door to the van, and they followed the trail Abby blazed through the parking lot.

  Sam frowned as they walked. What did Abby mean by ‘the Clarksonville clique?’ Did the four of them always keep to themselves? Did people notice? Did they know she and Lisa were together? Sam groaned. She didn’t want people to know, mainly because she couldn’t risk her parents finding out.

  Sam blurted, “You guys’ll have to be on your best behavior. No touching. No looking at each other, either.”

  “We should wear blindfolds?” Lisa asked with a chuckle.

  “No, c’mon. You know what I mean.” Sam smiled when Lisa grinned at her. Sam hated that she was so easy to tease. As she melted under Lisa’s smile, she realized that she would be seeing Lisa in a bathing suit. A familiar tingle of desire ran through her. Lisa held open the gate to the field for everyone to pass through and gave Sam a bump with her hip as she went by.

  The pre-game batting practice went quickly, and Sam felt good about the swings she took at the plate. As the Black Widow team trickled into the visitors’ dugout, Sam and her teammates hustled to put the pitching machine and practice balls away in the dugout storage room.

  Coach Gellar read the starting lineup and reminded them that she expected nothing to stand in the way of their undefeated season. “Infield, let’s go.” She headed toward home plate with a bat, followed by Lisa carrying the bucket of balls. Sam, Abby, and the other infielders scurried to their positions for their infield warm up.

  Sam scraped her cleats across the infield dirt smoothing out her second base territory. Coach Gellar took a ball from Lisa and hit a sizzling grounder to Keisha at third base. Keisha fielded the ball cleanly and threw a rocket to Mae at first, but Sam’s eyes were wide open. Coach had hit the ball harder than usual. Another sizzling grounder went to Abby at shortstop, who scooped it up and threw it on target to first. Sam’s heart was racing. She was next. She crouched down, ready to move in any direction. Coach Gellar swung her bat and smashed the ball toward Sam. Sam put her glove down, and waited for the ball to bounce into it. Instead, it smashed into her shin. She muffled a cry, even though it hurt like hell. She shuffled to the ball, scooped it up, and tossed it to Mae. How the hell had she missed it? She was watching it the whole way.

  “I’m sorry?” Coach Gellar bellowed toward her. “What was that you said, Payton?” She cupped a hand behind her ear.

  Oh, God. Coach is in one of her moods. If Sam didn’t ask for another grounder right away, the entire infield would end up doing a million laps or pushups or whatever else Coach felt like torturing them with. “I said, ‘Can I have another one, Coach?’”

  “Ahh, that’s what I thought.” Coach Gellar put her hand out for another ball. Lisa dutifully handed it to her. Sam hated that Lisa not only had to see her humiliation, but sort of had a hand in it, too.

  Coach Gellar smashed another grounder at her. This time the ball bounced off her glove instead of her shin. She scrambled after it and finished the play.

  “What was that—”

  “Can I have another one, Coach?” Sam interrupted before her coach could finish.

  Unfortunately, that pissed off Coach Gellar even more, because without a word, she hit a grounder to Sam’s right, just out of reach, then another to her left. Sam pounded her glove against her leg in frustration, but asked for another each time. Grounder after grounder after grounder came rocketing her way, until Coach Gellar bellowed, “Outfield, take your positions.”

  Sam turned toward right field, blinking away the sting of tears. She hadn’t fielded a single ball cleanly. What was the matter with her? She couldn’t wipe at her eyes, because then Coach Gellar would know she’d gotten to her. She fixated on a tall pine tree behind the outfield fence and took a long slow breath. “Never let them see you cry,” she murmured, repeating the mantra she had learned as a child. She had been trained to hide anger, sadness, frustration—basically any emotion that showed weakness.

  After an eternity, their pregame warm ups were finished, and the Black Widows took the field for their turn.

  Lisa motioned for Sam to meet her at the far end of the dugout. “You kept pulling your head out.”

  “I did?” Sam had been wracking her brain trying to figure out how she’d missed every ball.

  Lisa nodded. “Are you afraid?”

  Sam shrugged.

  “I think you are because of your black eye.”

  Sam sat down hard on the bench. Maybe she was afraid. At least once a day she remembered the exploding pain of Bree’s fist against her face. Sam turned to face her girlfriend. “How do you always know what’s bothering me, even before I do?”

  “I don’t. Not really.” Lisa smiled. “I could see you from my vantage point behind the plate. It looked like you kept tensing up.”

  “I guess.” Sam chuckled. “But being afraid didn’t help, did it? The balls kept hitting me anyway.”

  “You’ve gotta be fearless around here.” Lisa tapped Sam once on the thigh, and then turned to watch the Black Widows warm up.

  When the umpire called for the Nor’Easters to take the field to start the game, Sam raced Susie onto the field.

  Susie patted Sam on the back. “Keep your head in there, okay?” She didn’t wait for Sam to respond, and veered off for left field.

  “I’ll try,” Sam called after her.

  Sam pounded her glove and got in her ready position, determined to keep her head down and watch every ball squarely into her glove. Marlee stood with the ball in the pitcher’s circle and gave Sam a thumbs-up. Sam nodded back. It was nice to have support, even if it was only from her Clarksonville clique. The rest of her teammates, her shortstop Abby included, hadn’t said a word to
her.

  The first batter for the Black Widows stepped into the batter’s box. Sam rolled her eyes. Every part of the batter’s uniform was black. Her cleats, jersey, shorts, visor, and even her socks. The eye-black underneath each eye was the icing on the cake. Did the Black Widows think they were going to scare the undefeated Nor’Easters into losing? Not a chance.

  Marlee whipped her arm around and threw the first pitch of the game. The batter swung, and hit a hard grounder right at Sam. Sam took a step back, tried to keep her head down, but the ball took a weird hop and bounced into right field. The batter ran to first base safely. Sam blew out a frustrated sigh.

  The next Black Widow batter swung at Marlee’s first pitch and smacked a foul ball just outside the left field line. Susie chased it down and tossed it in. Abby shifted to her right and motioned for Sam to cover if the runner tried to steal second. Sam nodded and crouched in her ready position.

  Sure enough the runner took off for second base. Lisa came up throwing, and Sam got to the base in plenty of time. She snatched Lisa’s line drive out of the air and put the tag on. The runner slid hard into Sam’s glove jarring the ball loose. It trickled toward center field.

  “Safe,” the umpire in the field yelled throwing both arms out to the side.

  “Shit,” Sam muttered and smacked the ground.

  Abby picked up the loose ball and called for time.

  “Time,” the umpire granted.

  “Payton,” Coach Gellar boomed as she paced the dugout, “get your ever-loving head in this game.”

  Sam knew better than to answer back. She simply nodded and then leaped to her feet. She dusted herself off with a couple of agitated swipes.

  Abby ran over. “You okay, Sam?”

  Sam nodded once briskly and trotted back to her position. She pounded a fist into her glove and stared at home plate. She had to get her ‘ever-loving’ act together.

  With a runner now on second base, the batter stepped back into the box and smashed a line drive up the middle to center field. Rachel, the center fielder, grabbed the ball and threw it to Sam in the infield.

  The runner that had been on second was rounding third and heading home. Sam heard Lisa’s voice loud and clear calling for the ball at the plate. Sam vowed not to mess up, and pivoted. She threw the ball with all her might toward home, only to send an airmail throw clear over Lisa’s head. Sam threw her hands up and groaned as the runner scored.

  The play wasn’t over, though, because the batter, who had run safely to first base, took off for second on the error. Lisa picked up the ball behind the plate and rifled it back to Sam at second. Determined to prove herself, Sam caught the ball and threw herself at the runner who was now sliding into second.

  “Safe!” the umpire yelled.

  “What?” Sam flew to her feet with the ball in her glove. The umpire turned his back and walked away as if daring Sam to question his call any further. Out of the corner of her ear, she heard Lisa call, “It’s okay, Sam. We’ll get her at third.”

  Sam, grounded by the sound of Lisa’s voice, nodded and, as calmly as she could, tossed the ball back to Marlee in the pitcher’s circle.

  “Time,” Coach Gellar barked to the home plate umpire.

  “Time,” the home plate umpire granted and took off her face mask.

  “Bring it in,” Coach Gellar growled at the infielders as she headed toward the pitcher’s circle. She glared at Sam. “Not you. You’re done for the day.” She pointed toward the dugout. “Miller, get in here. Maybe somebody on this team can play second base today.”

  Sam groaned in frustration, but remembered she was a Payton and held her head high. She didn’t dare look any of her teammates in the eye, afraid they’d see the sheen of tears in her eyes.

  Sam opened the dugout gate and calmly stopped to get a sip of water from the water fountain. She needed a second to clear her head. What she really wanted to do was fling her glove at the dugout wall and then kick it down. But she didn’t. She couldn’t. She was a Payton. Always calm, cool, and collected. Instead, she walked to the far end of the bench and sat down. No one in the dugout said a word to her, which was good because she wouldn’t have been able to answer them past the lump in her throat. No one was going to see her cry. Not then, not ever.

  Chapter Five

  Pride

  SAM SAT WITH Lisa, Susie, and Marlee at a picnic table at the far end of the Stewart’s parking lot. It had gotten dark after the game against the Black Widows, but luckily their table sat strategically underneath a lamp post. Sam’s friends devoured their ice cream sundaes as if they were starving, but Sam stirred her Crumbs Along the Mohawk sundae without much thought. The graham cracker and caramel ice cream wasn’t doing it for her that evening.

  “What’s the matter, baby?” Lisa said.

  Sam shrugged. “I’m just glad I didn’t cost us the game today.”

  “That’s all Coach Gellar thinks about, isn’t it?” Marlee asked. “Winning.”

  Susie nodded. “She was in one of her moods again. You know how she zeroes in on one person and harasses them until they’re ready to commit suicide?” Susie said. “I guess that’s you now, muchacha. Used to be Christy, then me, and now you.”

  “I guess.” Sam shrugged. “But why do I suck so bad?”

  Her friends laughed, and Marlee said, “Two, you don’t suck.”

  “Maybe you shouldn’t call me Two anymore. I may not be a second baseman much longer.”

  “Aay, you’ll be okay, Sam,” Susie said. “You had a bad day. That’s all.”

  “She’s right.” Lisa nodded. “You’re gonna be a rock star against Milford on Saturday.”

  “I don’t want to be a rock star. I want to be a second baseman. One that...” Sam looked down as her eyes welled up with tears.

  Lisa’s strong hand rubbed her back. She leaned closer and whispered, “It’s okay, baby. It’s okay.”

  “Aay, mierda.” Susie groaned.

  Sam sucked back her misery. “What?”

  “Ronnie Alesi.” Susie pointed to a charcoal gray Toyota Camry pulling into the parking lot.

  “Oh, God.” Sam wiped at her eyes. “Please don’t see us, Ronnie. Please don’t see us.”

  “Who’s Ronnie Alesi?” Lisa whispered.

  “He’s only East Valley High School’s biggest drama queen.” Sam tried to look everywhere except at Ronnie.

  “Blows things out of proportion, eh?”

  “That too,” Susie said with a laugh. “Actually, he’s big into theater at school, and he really is a queen. He doesn’t care who knows he’s gay. Coming out for him was like a party.”

  “A coming out party.” Marlee laughed. “He looks like Adam Lambert.”

  ”Yeah,” Sam said, “I think that’s the look he’s going for.”

  “He’s kind of cute,” Marlee added. “If you go for that sort of thing.”

  Everyone laughed, and Sam snuck a peek at Ronnie and his theater geek friends getting out of the car. She agreed with Marlee. He was cute with his short spiked hair, groomed meticulously to look as if he’d just gotten out of bed. “Shit, he’s coming over.”

  “Samantha! Samantha Ro-ose,” Ronnie sing-songed. “You can’t hide from me, girlfriend.” He sashayed over with his friends trailing behind. He stopped in his tracks and threw both arms out to the sides holding his friends back. “Girl, what happened to your eye?” He shot a glance at Lisa.

  “Softball, Ronnie. What else?” Sam nodded to Ronnie’s friends, Alivia and Karl, who had followed him over. “Hi, you guys.”

  “What? No ‘hi’ for me?”

  “Hi, Ronnie,” Sam said resigned.

  “It’s Ronald now.”

  “Ronald?” Sam held back a laugh when Karl rolled his eyes behind him.

  “Yes, honey. I’m trying for an air of sophistication. It’s going to go something like this.” He held a fist toward his mouth as if holding a microphone. “The Tony award for best actor goes to,” Ronnie threw his shoulders
back and stood up taller, “Ronald Alesi.”

  Alivia and Karl clapped behind him, but it was a slow bored clap as if they’d heard the story a hundred times.

  “See? See?” Ronnie turned to bow to his admiring fans. “They know.”

  Sam smiled in spite of herself. She had to admit; Ronnie was entertaining. He even made strings class fun with his jokes and teasing. “Okay, Ronald. I want tickets to opening night when you hit Broadway.”

  “Oh, he’s gonna hit something all right,” Karl muttered under his breath.

  Ronnie whirled around dramatically. “Et tu, Brute?” He wagged a finger at Karl and then spun back to face Sam. To Lisa he said, “Scooch over, dearie. I need to speak to Miss Samantha Rose privately.”

  Lisa shrugged and moved over giving him room on the bench. He sat down and leaned toward Sam, his face inches from hers. Sam wanted to poke him between the eyes to make him move back, but she knew he was simply creating a dramatic moment.

  “So, darling,” he said, “are you going to do it?”

  “Do what Ronnie?”

  “Ronald.”

  Sam exchanged an exasperated glance with Lisa. “Do what, Ronald?”

  “Fiddler on the Roof. Mrs. Dickens said you have to do it.” He sat back, but Sam still had the urge to poke him.

  “What are you talking about?”

  “Mrs. Dickens picked this year’s musical because of you.”

  “Ronnie, c’mon. You know I’m not into acting. I tell you that every time you try to recruit me for a play.” Sam crossed her eyes at Lisa who seemed to be trying not to laugh. “I’m just fine in the pit.”

  “We’ve got to get you out of that orchestra pit, dearie. But I’m not talking about acting. We want you for your fiddling skills. We want you to be the fiddler.”

  “On a roof?”

  “Exactly. Right guys?” Ronnie appealed to his friends.

  They nodded, and Alivia said, “I hope you’ll do it, Samantha Rose. All you have to do is play your violin.”

  “And dance,” Karl added.

  Alivia smacked him in the chest, her eyes wide as if he wasn’t supposed to mention that part.