by Lindsey Iler
My first two classes of the day weren’t so awful. Drama didn’t exactly go how I wanted it to, but it’s something I will need to work through. Second period was easy for me. No one cared who I was. I suppose that’s what I should expect from an AP history class. The only looks I got were from a clenched jaw Rachel when she turned every few minutes to glare at me.
As I step into the cafeteria, every single pair of eyes turns in my direction. It’s like déjà vu of last year. This time, Graham isn’t here waiting for me, with a hand available to ease the anxiety these walls can create. I need to walk in here alone with my head held high.
Someone steps beside me as soon as my cheetah print flats hit the floor of the oversized cafeteria. I glance up to see Mark smiling at me. My stomach circles into tight knots. There’s nowhere for me to compartmentalize my reaction to his perfect pearly whites. I shrug it off as a typical female response to an overly attractive guy. I’m in high school. Shit like this happens.
He falls into stride with me and I’m overwhelmed by his scent. “You’re looking absolutely gorgeous today, Ken,” Mark whispers in my ear.
I peer up and see the sincerity in his eyes. I don’t know what to think about Mark yet. Filing him in a certain category seems impossible. He has a reputation, much like Graham’s, but with a softer edge. Mark’s trustworthy.
“Are we still doing this?” I ask, stifling my laughter. Mark’s gaze falls to my chest. “Seriously, Mark. My eyes are up here, you jackass.” I slap him across the chest and shake my head at his intrusion.
“I’m sorry. It’s just I never noticed...” His stare darts to the ceiling, and then around the room.
“Never noticed what? That I’m a girl?”
Mark steps in front of me, blocking my path as I walk. “You’re kidding, right? I just never noticed the perfection you are.”
“Oh! So we are doing this then?” I chuckle, pushing on his chest and stepping around him.
“I’m going to fight for your time and attention, Kennedy Conrad.”
The clear conviction in his voice makes me take a few steps back. My eyes squint with doubt. “There’s no one to fight,” I say.
“Look around, gorgeous. There’s everyone to fight.” Mark walks away, and the usual suspects at the popular table greet him.
I look insane, just standing in the middle of the room, but my feet refuse to budge. Violet and Dan wave me over to the lunch line. My brain convinces my feet to move, and finally, they listen once I break myself from the fog that surrounds me.
“Mark’s staring at your ass, Ken,” Dan observes before a contagious laugh escapes his lips. “In fact, they’re all staring at your ass.” He points to a table behind me.
As if on cue, we turn to see a group of guys staring in my direction.
Violet laughs before she glares daggers into Dan. “You’re not staring at her ass.”
Dan winks at me. He finds nothing greater than getting a rise out of Violet. She hasn’t exactly been forthcoming when it comes to their relationship, forcing Dan to put in a lot of work.
Violet punches him hard on the arm. Dan rubs the spot in mockery.
“Baby, Kennedy has a pretty nice ass, so if she walks in front of me or past me, I might strain my neck to sneak a peek.” Dan roars, knowing very well how bad Violet wants to kick him where the sun doesn’t shine.
“She does have a nice ass, but can we all agree it would be extremely weird for you to look at her ass for two different reasons. The first, she’s my best friend, and you had your dick inside of me last night. The second being, you look at her as if she’s your sister. I think those two reasons are enough to keep your beady little eyes off Kennedy’s rump,” Violet rambles, as we hand our money to the lunch lady.
“Did you just say rump?” Dan chuckles again as we step in front of their table. I guess my table now, too.
I grimace. “Can we please stop talking about my ass? Thanks.”
Mark grabs my food and places it in the spot next to him. I have to give it to him. He’s attentive.
“But you do have a nice ass, Ken,” Mark says with a sly smile on his face.
Heat permeates my back. The too familiar, intoxicating scent hits my nose seconds later. My instincts tell me to bolt, get the hell out of here, but my feet once again refuse to move. He paralyzes me to the point I don’t even have to turn around to know it’s him.
“What’s everyone yammering about?” Graham’s voice breaks through the loud hoots and hollers from our table.
“We were just discussing how nice an ass Kennedy has,” Dan divulges without thinking of the consequences that are sure to come from Graham.
Graham looks around the group before him. His gaze lands on me, and I wring my hands together, rubbing the sweat away. Before I know what’s happening, Graham knocks Dan down on his back, and they’re wrestling around on the floor. No one bothers to break them up. People shout. Girls squeal, but not one person tries to stop Graham from barreling into Dan with his fists.
Just as Graham’s fist pulls back and flies forward, my small arms wrap around him to stop his assault. Graham brushes off my hands as if my touch burns him all the way down to his bones, and I gasp at his unexpected reaction.
Dan adjusts his clothes and plants his feet firmly back on the ground. “What the hell are you doing, man?”
“What the hell am I doing? What the hell are you doing?” Graham bellows. He looks around at everyone. Their eyes turn on us. “I know what you’re doing, and it’s real low for you, man.” Graham points square at Dan’s face.
“I’m not doing anything. Why don’t you get off your high horse and just admit you still love her?” Dan gestures over to me. “I’m tired of walking on eggshells around you. If we want to talk about Kennedy’s ass, sorry, Ken,” Dan looks at me to apologize, “then we’re going to. She doesn't have to go back to being invisible, just because you don’t want her anymore.”
The silence in the room is deafening, almost pounding around us. Two teachers stand by the door, not sure if they should intervene. Biting my lip until I taste blood, I glance over at Graham. He gazes up, and as our eyes meet, I know he still feels it just as deeply as I do. None of that matters, and I don’t think I realize this until now. Graham loves me, and I’m madly in love with him. He just can’t be with me.
His every emotion is right there in his eyes. A softness in them only illuminates when they fall over me. I’m somehow different for Graham. I’m the only person in the room he sees, and it’s stamped into his brown irises when they drift over me in admiration.
Graham’s eyes shift from me to everyone around us. He doesn’t know what to say. He’s not sure how he should react. A part of me wants to shield him from his uncertainties.
“Graham,” I whisper, taking a few strides toward him.
Graham takes a step back from me. “Kennedy, just don’t, okay?” He shakes his head, turns his back on us, and leaves the cafeteria.
Everyone sits back down. Mark looks up at me, but I don’t know whether I should chase after Graham or act like none of this ever happened.
Dan comes to me. With the gentlest of touches, he lifts my chin, making me look up at him. “Kennedy, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have done that, but he’s being impossible,” Dan says, shaking his head with shame.
“You’re fine. He’ll figure it out...” I allow the thought to drift away.
“What if he doesn’t?”
I shrug. “Then he doesn’t. I can’t sit around forever, waiting for him.” I force a smile, reassuring Dan, but not believing my own words.
Hearing Dan say those things to Graham is an eye opener, something I needed to hear. He makes a good point. Just because Graham doesn’t want me, doesn’t mean I have to go unnoticed again. For once, I don’t feel invisible.
At this very thought, a hand reaches out and grabs hold of mine. Warmth radiates through my fingers as I see Mark watching me. My eyes scan to our joined hands. Something about Mark, I’m just not
sure what it is yet, makes me want to know him more.
“You gonna sit down, Ken?” Mark nods to the table.
I gaze back at the doors before taking a seat.
“I don’t see why not.”
Chapter Eight
Graham
“What do you need, Coach?”
I sprawl in the fabric-covered chair in front of his oversized, outdated desk. His office is in the back of the locker room, just close enough to keep an eye on us.
He looks at me but doesn’t say a word. Coach thumbs through the stack of papers in his hands until he’s ready to speak.
“How’s your father, Graham?” he asks with an edginess clear on his tongue.
Checking on me over the summer has been a priority for him. He’s my coach during the school year, but during the summer, my summer coach takes the reigns. Since I was nine-years-old (when my dad noticed my ‘ample amount of potential’, his words, not mine), I’ve played on a traveling team. Even during the summer months, Coach finds time to check on his players. That’s the type of man he is.
“I’m fine, just like I was all summer.” I vacate my seat to turn my back on him. Just as I reach for the doorknob, a pressure comes down on my shoulder. “Coach, he’s been gone on business trips. Mom and I are fine. For now, we’re fine.”
I’m not in the mood to deal with the inquisition Coach has planned for me, but I owe him more than the shrug off I’m prepared to give him.
“Graham, you have to keep yourself sharp this year. Don’t let that asshole derail you from getting the hell out of this town,” Coach snarls. He isn’t exactly my father’s biggest fan.
I swing around to face him and his eyes full of sympathy burn into me. “I’m on my game, Coach, hitting up the batting cages and practicing pitching. Not even a prick like him can stop me from leaving this place in the rearview mirror,” I say with confidence. “I’m fine, Coach. Really. Just back off.” I shrug off his hand and slam the door behind me. There’s no point in looking back. I know what will be waiting for me.
Coach is like a father figure. Since freshman year when I received my varsity letter, he’s been there. When college recruiters come to watch me pitch, he stands by my side. He’s there when my own father can’t be bothered to show up. I understand why he’s worried. His family has treated me like one of their own when I don’t have anywhere else to turn. We agree reporting my father isn’t an option right now. It will do no good. Money talks louder than words, and he has an abundance of green falling out of his pockets.
Over the summer, Coach allowed me to crash at his house whenever I felt the need. He never asked questions when I showed up on his doorstep with my backpack over my shoulder. He opened the door and led me to the spare bedroom. The second time, his wife, Candace, opened the door with the kindest smile, and guided me to their kitchen table without a second thought.
Ever since that day, I’ve become the unofficial fourth child of the Hagen family. I’m forever grateful for their kindness, but most of all, for their silence.
I don’t try to hide my choices, and without making excuses for myself, everyone has a front row seat to my self-destruction. I’ve played the player role for far too long for anyone to look at me as anything else but that. Most people mind their own business, but others pipe in when they feel it necessary.
Dan, of course, feels like it’s his job to butt in whenever the opportunity arises. He’s created this strange protective bond over Kennedy. Don’t get me wrong. I’m glad she has someone to look after her now that I’m not by her side, but he’s becoming a giant pain in my ass. He finds joy in bringing out all my insecurities and trying to prove what I’m doing is wrong and regrettable. He very well may be right.
Mark’s on the wooden bench between the lockers when I walk out of Coach’s office. The showers are running. A few underclassmen roam the locker room. Weightlifting class must have just finished, judging by the way they groan with every move they make.
I nod in Mark’s direction as I walk through the locker room door, into the hallway. I hear his shoes hitting the floor behind me.
“Man, wait up,” Mark shouts as I hit the side door leading to the batting cages. I turn to face him, and right away, I know I’m not going to like where this conversation is going to go. “We need to talk.”
And there it is. The dreaded four words no one wants to hear from anyone.
“Talk about what?” I don’t know why I bother to ask. The way he fidgets in front of me, I can almost guess what.
Mark cracks the tension in his neck and stares at me. “I asked Kennedy out,” he blurts, a noticeable flinch in his demeanor. “After lunch... I asked her out.”
My eyes squint at him as he leans away from me. He thinks I’m going to throw a punch. There’s no faith in me. But then again, why should there be? Of course, if I hit him, he’ll fight back, and I’ve seen this guy in action. He’s built like a Mack truck. I’ve witnessed him knocking someone out with one blow. I may be strong, but nothing compared to Mark. I’m man enough to admit it. That’s why his physical reaction shocks me as I try to control my own anger.
“This is a courtesy call, Mark,” I scoff. “You didn’t come here to ask my permission, so quit playing the holier than thou act. You already asked my ex-girlfriend out, so I think the pleasantries are unnecessary at this point.” My fists slug against my thighs in a slow pace to stop myself from making a mistake I’d regret.
“You act like you were going to marry this girl. We all knew you were doomed from the start.” He ambushes me with my worst fear.
“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?” I shove against his chest.
“Oh come on, you saw her as an opportunity to try to better yourself and nothing else. You used her, just like you’ve used Amanda and just like you used Rachel all summer.”
The clenched fist at my side swings and hits Mark square across the face. He drops to the ground and peers at me as he rubs his now bruised cheek.
I point down at him. “Go fuck yourself, Mark,” I shout and walk away. My hand stills on the metal door as he calls out to me.
“I’ll make sure to take her somewhere nice,” he yells.
I barge out into the sunlight. Dan sits in the bed of his truck, his legs dangling like a toddler. Knowing there’s a conversation to be had, I drop my bat bag on the ground beside his.
“Don’t even say it, you asshole.” I jump on the tailgate next to him.
“I have to,” Dan answers under his breath. “I’m sorry. I really am. It’s none of my business, and I know that. After Violet whispering in my ear all summer about what a jackass you are, and seeing how miserable Kennedy is, I guess I felt like I needed to be the one to fix you guys.”
“I know it was coming from a good place, man. It’s just more complicated than you could possibly understand. Kennedy and I run deep, sometimes too deep, and I’m having a hard time knowing what’s right and what’s wrong.” I rest my elbows on my knees as I slide my hands over my face.
“What’s right and what’s wrong isn’t what matters. What matters is if you love her. And if you love her, then you can find the capacity to be the person she needs you to be.”
“I’m not a good person, Dan.” I jump down, nearly snagging my legs on the rusted out steel.
“You aren’t the villain you like to make yourself out to be either. If you were, then Kennedy wouldn’t still be standing in your corner.” Dan hops down, shuts the tailgate, and grabs his bag.
“She’s not standing in my corner anymore. Mark asked her out.” I throw my bag over my shoulder. “She’s not fighting for me anymore.”
“You aren’t fighting for her either. Don’t forget that,” Dan answers, determination lacing his voice.
“I’m fighting. I punched Mark when he told me.”
“Not exactly the fight I’m talking about. She deserves to know you still love her.”
“You care about her, don’t you?” I ask, already knowing the answer.
“It doesn’t take much, you big softie.” I wrap my arm around his shoulder, slowly sliding my hold up until I trap him in a headlock. We roughhouse for a few minutes before the rest of the team shows up, breaking up our little lovefest.
“Don’t you even fucking think about telling anyone how insightful I can be,” Dan whispers as the rest of the guys approach.
All I can do is laugh. “No one would believe me, anyway.”
I spend the next two hours ripping ball after ball as they shoot out of the pitching machine. Sweat drips from my forehead, and tension drains from my muscles. This is what I need.
Baseball has always been my haven, a place to disappear to for just a little while. When the world feels like it’s closing in on me, my only comfort is found on the pitcher’s mound or holding an aluminum bat in my hands. It’s where I have control. My father may dictate what happens under his roof and how he treats my mother and me, but when I’m playing ball, I make the decisions. I decide whom I strike out, and whom I give a fighting chance.
Baseball means control.
Chapter Nine
Kennedy
It’s been a month since school started, but I finally have a routine of sorts. The newspaper consumes my Mondays after school while Mark has batting practice. I spend the rest of my week studying, with trickles of Dan and Violet to break up the monotony.
After Mark asked me out in the cafeteria the first day back to school, I agreed to grab dinner with him. Some would say we’re dating, but I’m not quite sure we can classify us under that specific category. Even though he’s done everything in his power to make me comfortable, navigating our new, unsteady mix between friendship and relationship is complicated and awkward. With Graham, it was so natural. We fell into each other without thinking or second-guessing our actions. I don’t know if it’s Mark or me, but our connection hasn’t come as easy.
