by Leslie Pike
The two have been secretive lately. I think they’re planning something they don’t want the adults to know about, because every time I walk in the room they stop talking. I’m okay with that. It’s the time in her life for secrets.
When she came back from talking with Atticus, I felt like something had shifted in favor of staying. There was some glimmer of hope at least. But as today got closer, she got more afraid.
I think about it every night, even when Atticus and I can sleep together. It’s always in the back of my mind. It picks away at my happiness one bit at a time, like a termite eating a house.
“Morning, beautiful. What time is it?”
His sleepy voice is the best. If I wasn’t thinking about sex, that would prompt me.
“Morning. It’s early. About seven I think.”
He pulls me closer to him and kisses my neck. “Good. We’ve got at least an hour, right?”
I look over my shoulder and into his dark eyes. “Yes. I’m obsessing a little about what today could bring. Can you make me forget?”
He rolls me on top of him. “That’s a good girl. Let me look at you and your bed hair. It’s sexy as hell.”
I sit on him and lift my hair up with a stretch of my arms. Moving my hips, I feel his cock grow beneath me. His hands lift to my breasts and he plays with them. Softly, slowly, never taking his eyes away from mine.
“I love you so much,” he says.
Then he rolls me under him, his face close to mine.
“I love you too. Forever, Atticus.”
He kisses me with such tenderness it’s heartbreaking to think I’d ever live without it. We go slow, savoring each moment, and every touch. This is making love. Funny thing is, I never knew you had to be in love to recognize it.
Driving up to the school takes me back to my high school years and how fun it was to be with my friends. I want that for Mallory. There’s so much I want her to experience. I think this is the place that could make it happen. If she’s able to take control.
“I’m glad you thought of taking your car instead of mine,” Atticus says turning into the back lot.
“The roar of a Ferrari isn’t the best way to stay undiscovered.”
He parks close to the entry, just as Mrs. Wagner instructed. When we get out, there’re no students entering the building this way. Good. She said her door’s just inside.
When Atticus opens the door for me I detect some nervousness on his face. It’s kind of adorable.
“You nervous?”
He gives me a look that says I’m ridiculous for even considering the thought. “No! Why would I be?”
“Because you’re going to speak for Mallory. Have you ever advocated for a child?”
He curls a lip and changes his expression from sure of himself to out of his wheelhouse.
“No! Oh my God. If I say something stupid just kick me under the desk.”
I chuckle at the thought. “I’m just messing with you. You’re going to be great.”
When we reach her door he pauses. “The last time I had to go to the Principal’s office it was because I looked up Ginny McMartin’s dress.”
“I see you didn’t learn a thing from that punishment.”
He chuckles and knocks on the door.
“Come in,” her voice calls.
Walking in, I’m immediately taken by the cool look of the room. It’s a place a young person would feel comfortable in. Above a wall of framed pictures are the words THE GREAT COMMUNICATORS. I see contemporary musicians and ancient philosophers. There’re artists standing in front of their creations and writers with their books. There’s a President in a thoughtful pose. Martin Luther King and Jane Goodall are the bookends of the arrangement.
“Hello! I’m Principal Wagner,” she says standing and coming around her desk.
She extends her hand to me first and then to Atticus.
“Hello. I’m Charlotte Bay, Mallory’s mother. And this is Atticus.”
She looks at him and says, “I’d have to be a recluse not to know this face. Nice to meet you both. Sit, please.”
We pull up the two chairs and I take a deep breath.
“Thank you for seeing me. I know this must be a busy day for you.”
“You sounded like a mother in need of a little backup. You mentioned Mallory has been the victim of bullying.”
“Yes.”
“How long has that been going on?”
“For some years now. She suffered a burn on her face, and since then she’s been a target.”
“You mentioned on the phone that the latest incident was perpetrated by one of our students.”
“Jeffrey Midas,” Atticus says.
She leans her head back and closes her eyes. A long sigh escapes her lips. “I was hoping he learned something last semester.”
“He’s done this before?”
“Many times. The students even organized a club to combat his tweets and Facebook posts. Most of all to stand up to him and any other bully in school. It’s become a force to be reckoned with. They were very effective last year.”
She takes a yearbook from the shelf behind her and thumbs through. She finds what she wants and turns the book toward us. “Here they are.”
It’s a group of at least thirty kids. All different types, sizes, colors. Mrs. Wagner points to a pretty blonde in the center. “That’s Kelli Timber. She’s the cheerleader who thought the club up.”
“That’s surprising,” I say. “Even she was bullied?”
“In grammar school. I guess she was a chubby kid, and she said he never forgot how the bullying hurt. And now she’s recruited some of the athletes, including the quarterback, to join. It never hurts to have popular students on your side.”
“What has the school done? Can you tell us how you attempt to protect the bullied?” I ask.
“Everything we can do legally. Jeffrey was suspended for a few days last year, but when the home front doesn’t take the punishment seriously, neither does the adolescent. I’m afraid the most powerful, effective deterrent is the ability for the bullied to stand up for themselves.”
I take in the information and roll it around my mind.
“I agree. That’s what I said to Mallory. I like the idea of a group support system like the club,” Atticus says.
“If you agree, Charlotte, I’d like to introduce your daughter to the group. They call themselves the Sun Club. It stands for Speak Up Now.
“Yes, definitely. I’ll tell her you’re going to contact her.”
“She may have already met them. It’s a requirement that every freshman or new student stop by their booth on Orientation Day.”
“Mrs. Wagner, I just had a great idea. What if I arrange to work with the kids, you know, try to spread their message to kids in other schools in Memphis?” Atticus says. “The Mavericks are always looking to support local kid’s clubs. I think they’d love this idea.”
Mrs. Wagner looks as if Atticus just gave her a winning Lotto ticket. By the time we say our goodbyes, the plan’s in motion.
We don’t get ten feet out of the building before we start talking.
Hope.
That’s what we both feel, real hope.
“That went in a direction I didn’t expect,” he says.
“But it’s a great one. This is her best chance, surrounded and supported by her peers. And thank you for offering to work with the kids. You didn’t have to do that I know.”
He stops and takes me in an embrace. “I’m not letting you go. I don’t care what you say, or Mallory says, or anyone else. This is your home, right here in the crook of my arm.”
I melt into his body, for the first time in a while believing everything could work out.
Atticus and I wait like expectant parents for my front door to open. Will Mallory be wearing a scowl? My heart will break if she is. For us all.
“Damn it. I’ve got to leave in fifteen minutes. Fucking baseball.”
He starts chuckling at his wo
rds, knowing the order of things he finds important has changed. But he quickly rewords his comment, lest I think he really means it.
“No that’s a little harsh. The game’ll take my mind off things. Wish you could be there.”
“I’d love to be there for your first home game. You know I would if I could.”
“I know, baby.”
Before the key’s in the door, we hear the voices. They’re getting closer. I almost start crying because it’s a sound I’ve never heard before when Mallory came home from school - laughter.
Atticus and I look at each other and he reaches for my hand. The door opens.
“Oh good! He’s still here!” Mallory says.
She and Paige are surrounded by six other kids, four girls and two boys. I recognize the cheerleader and I’d say the beefy boy next to her must be the quarterback. Their young friendly faces are looking at Atticus.
“Come in!” I say waving them inside.
“Mom, these are my new friends. Carol, Barry, Dakota, Jen, Debbie and Amy.”
“Hi. Welcome.”
Atticus stands and approaches the group. “What about me? Don’t I get to meet them too?”
Star-struck faces can’t hide their excitement. The football player speaks first. “Mr. Swift, it’s an honor to meet you. I’m a Mavericks fan.”
“We all are!” says the other boy.
Atticus shakes hands with them all, and when he’s asked for a picture he doesn’t hesitate. That begins the picture taking.
As the rest of the group is distracted, Mallory whispers in my ear, “It’s gonna be okay, Mom. I’ll tell you all about it tonight, but these kids are part of an anti-bullying club and they’re gonna help me. We’re going to stand together. Paige and I have backup plans for Jeffrey if that doesn’t work.”
I give her a look that she knows well. She chuckles.
“Don’t worry. It’s nothing illegal or anything we could get in trouble for.”
I decide to trust her and put all my faith in the people who’ll be standing with her.
My eyes fill with tears of joy and the lump in my throat grows.
“I love you, honey.”
I can only give her a kiss on the cheek. I might start crying if I attempt anything more.
I hear Atticus say, “Let’s take a selfie!” It takes another ten minutes till every phone has captured a selfie of their own.
“I’ve got to go! We’ve got a game tonight.”
The faces look crushed at the news. He leans over to Mallory and gives her a peck on the head. I get a better one on the lips. The kids are watching it all.
“Bye, girls. Bye, kids.”
Nine voices send him to the door. But instead of walking out he turns and asks, “Hey, would anybody like to come to the game tonight as my guests?”
I forgot how loud eight excited teenagers can be. They all start talking at once.
“Hold it! Get your parents’ permissions first,” I add.
“Oh yeah. Good thinking. I’ll send a car for you all here at five and then we’ll deliver each of you to your homes after the game. Is that okay with you, Charlotte?”
“Perfect.”
“Why don’t you ride with the kids, and then I’ll bring you home?” he asks me.
No one else is paying attention to Atticus and me. They’re talking a mile a minute, planning what to wear and what time to meet back. Mallory is in the thick of things, putting in her voice and opinions. Paige is cracking up at whatever the girl next to her said. It’s such a happy scene.
I lock eyes with Atticus and he mouths the word, “Happy?”
Sitting with the wives and girlfriends of the Maverick players is otherworldly. The television cameras turn to us on a regular basis, trying to catch our reactions to plays. Although I’m more knowledgeable about the sport than I was a few months ago, I’m still not fooling anyone here.
I decided to be truthful about this being the first game I’ve ever attended. That news spread down the aisle like a game of gossip.
The woman sitting next to me is friendly and warm. I’d say she’s the oldest one here, maybe forty. When she introduced herself I recognized the name. She’s the wife of the center fielder. I felt an immediate connection. I think she feels a little sorry for the fact I’m a fish out of water.
“I was new once too. It’s pretty intimidating,” she says leaning in to my ear.
“It’s just that I know so little about the game.”
“You’re gonna learn real fast. Here comes your guy. He’s up.”
Last inning was spectacular. Seeing him catch is more than I imagined. He’s so strong and confident. He was laser focused on each pitch and throw.
But as he walks to the plate, I notice him look up to where he knows I’m sitting. His eyes scan the rows till they settle on me. He smiles, gets this slightly embarrassed look, and dips his chin. Then he taps the plate and takes a few practice swings.
The sight of his muscles straining against the uniform and the swivel of his hips gets me hot. I’m both admiring and lusting after the man and tonight he’s going to be mine.
The crowd is anticipating the pitch and what he’s going to do with it. The first one fires into the opposing catcher’s glove. Strike one. He doesn’t seem fazed. Another pitch. Strike two. Oh no, one more left.
He’s waiting, and it seems like forever before the ball leaves the pitcher’s hand.
“It’s a curveball,” I hear someone say.
“It dips as it reaches Atticus. But he’s ready. He reaches out his bat and connects solidly. The crack of the bat reverberates through the sound system, and he takes off.
As he runs, he’s watching it sail overhead. It sails across the field, over the heads of the players. It barely outdistances the reach of the center fielder and fly’s out of the park.
Atticus touches first, second and third, and comes back to where he started. A big smile lights his face as he reaches home.
It’s an empty stadium now. The crowd of fans have left, Mallory and her friends are on their way too. It’s just Atticus and me, standing on home plate as he teaches me the finer points of the swing. I’m holding the bat and he’s holding me.
“That’s it. You’ve got it. Spread your legs a little,” he says putting his leg between mine.
“That’s what he said,” I tease.
I get a kiss on the neck for my effort.
“Now you’re ready for the pitch.”
“How do you know which one you’re going to get?”
He let’s go and moves in front of me.
“You don’t. That’s part of the art of the game. You can only anticipate so much.”
“Like life,” I say.
“Sometimes the best ones surprise you.”
He tosses the bat behind me and I fall into his open arms. Taking my face in his hands, he leans his forehead against mine.
“Falling in love with you has been the most beautifully unexpected thing that ever happened to me. And for you and Mallory and I, our lives together have just begun.”
Deep down in my soul I feel his pitch come toward me. It’s the curve that sets everything straight.
Epilogue
Charlotte
One year later
“Ow! I thought you’d be better at this,” Atticus says, wincing.
I hold his finger steady and work on getting the splinter out.
“You big baby. How’d you get this, anyway?”
He makes a face like I’m stabbing him in the heart. “I can’t remember. Who knows?”
The offending bit of wood slides out. “Ta da!” I say, holding it up for the room to see.
Sunday supper has become my favorite family gathering. Especially since Grandma Birdie has been teaching me her recipes. When you feed these people, you have a great audience. To the man, woman and child they like to eat.
While Mallory has lost ten pounds over the last year, I feel like I’ve gained the same amount. But Atticus says if I
have it’s all gone to the right places. God bless his lying heart.
“Where are you and Tim going tonight?” I ask Mallory. “And who are you going to be with?”
It seems like she’s become a woman overnight. Fifteen looks so beautiful on my daughter. Even more than her natural good looks, I think it’s the happiness showing through. It’s changed everything. The bullying has stopped for the most part. And when it does happen, she handles it herself. Her popularity with the kids has given her what she needed, confidence.
She walks over to where I sit and plops on my lap. “Just to the movies. Paige and Carl are picking us up here in a few hours.” Then she gives me the look that says she’s about to ask a favor. “Do you think we could stay out till twelve tonight? The movie doesn’t end till after ten. We want to go to Whaleburgers after. Please.”
“Oh, how can you resist that sweet nightingale?” Grandpa says.
“Thank you, Grandpa.”
That still sounds strange to me, but both he and Grandma insisted we call them what everyone else does.
“Just be sure it doesn’t become twelve thirty.”
“Atticus, we’re about an hour away from dinner,” Lucinda says.
“Thanks, Mom. I need to show Charlotte something.”
I notice everyone’s acting a little strange. Brick and Bristol, Lucinda and Boone and even The Colonel. He’s remarkably still and unusually quiet as if he’s waiting for a promised treat.
They keep looking at me, then at Atticus, and finally at each other. There’s smiles all around as if they know something I don’t. And the second our eyes meet they look away. The only one acting normal is Mallory.
Grandpa Davis wears a wide smile and keeps watching me. His mouth takes the shape of an O and his bushy eyebrows rise.
“Grandpa!” Grandma Birdie scolds him. But for what exactly?
He quickly loses the overly excited expression and pretends to get busy picking a speck of lint off his jacket.
