Paper or Plastic

by Vivi Barnes

  I found Noah in the electronics section, chatting with a couple other employees I didn’t know. He stopped to look at me, eyebrows raised.

  “Hey, can I talk with you for a sec?” I asked, ignoring the scrutiny from the other two guys.

  He nodded to the others and followed me to the next aisle of DVDs. He crossed his arms, face impassive. Gone was quiet Noah or even the fun Noah from earlier—this one was all business, and for some reason, that intimidated the hell out of me.

  “Yes?” Noah prompted.

  Everything I was going to say flew out of my mind and left me with one word: “Why?”

  “You’re new,” Noah said. “Hanson could’ve fired you for that. He hates his employees to be rude to a customer.”

  I wanted to tell him that it was fine, let him fire me. But I didn’t. Though it was a crappy job, Noah was trying to give me a chance to keep it. He put his own neck on the line so I wouldn’t get fired. I couldn’t blow him off.

  “But how did you know you wouldn’t get fired?” I countered.

  “I’ve been his top employee for the past year. I’ve never done anything wrong, so I figured I was safe.” His eyes shifted away from mine as his expression softened. “Being perfect gets old, anyway.”

  “Well, thanks,” I said. “That was nice of you.”

  He nodded. I added, “Guess I better get to work. I’ll see you later.”

  He nodded again, fidgeting with a DVD on the shelf. I wondered what in our conversation made him switch from all-business manager back to shy teenager. As I walked toward women’s apparel, I couldn’t come up with any reason that Noah would put his job at risk for me. I mean, this was his job. He cared about it.

  I didn’t get it. I didn’t get him.

  But his sudden rebellion—that I could relate to. Since Rory was born I’d been constantly pitted against her. I heard it at family gatherings every year—how beautiful Aurora was, how she inherited my mother’s grace, Aunt Peggy’s talent, blah blah blah. Oh, of course I’d heard the same things when I was her age, but as I grew out of the pretty princess look, I’d hear much different things from my aunts: “Alexis, you sure have grown taller this year, which I guess is good for you if you want to play a boy’s game like baseball.”

  Or, “Alexis, you’d be so much prettier if you didn’t wear your hair in that unflattering ponytail.”

  Or even my favorite, “So, Alexis, are you doing anything this year? Oh, softball? How about anything feminine, like dance or cheerleading?”

  Followed by my mother whispering something to her sisters that I couldn’t hear but that was trailed by tongue clicks and commiserating smiles. Yes, I was pretty, but apparently that didn’t matter because I played a sport.

  Here I was worried about owing Noah a stupid dollar-fifty for the tea when I really owed him my job. And knowing Noah, he would never expect anything in return for either.

  Maybe it wouldn’t be such a bad thing to go out with him.

  Working in apparel wasn’t exciting, and I spent most of the time trying to figure out how to get out of a conversation with Merrill, one of the most boring people I’d ever come across. Conversation was a loose term—actually, she talked at me while I cleared clothes out of the changing room. Her voice was level—never rising above or below one tone. All I could think was that if I looked up the word monotone online, most likely it would be a recording of Merrill’s voice.

  I did discover while walking through the men’s section that someone had pantsed two of the mannequins. The pairs of khakis were down around their ankles, and I could’ve sworn they were blushing. The prankster strikes again. Yes, I should’ve pulled the pants back up, but I started laughing and couldn’t stop. A couple of customers stopped to stare at me—neither of whom noticed the half-naked figures. I turned to see Noah leaning against a shelf, watching me with a grin. I gestured toward the mannequins, and he laughed.

  I wondered if Noah was the prankster. No, I decided. He didn’t seem to have that kind of goofy sense of humor. Even the macaroni bowling was started by someone else. I really couldn’t picture him yanking down the pants of dummies, though the mental image made me giggle.

  I didn’t see him again until I was clocking out.

  “Shift over?” he asked, leaning against the wall next to me. The butterflies started their flight again, but I was used to them now.

  “No, I’m clocking in for the second time today, just for fun. Can’t get enough of this place.” I smirked at him. “Right?”

  “I don’t mind it. Not when you’re here.”

  My mouth fell open at that, before I had the sense to clamp it shut again.

  “I just meant that you’re fun and all,” he said quickly. “It’s…different when you’re around. I don’t laugh half as much when you’re not here.”

  “Me neither,” I told him. “I like when we’re on the same shift.”

  A long, awkward pause followed, like we were both waiting to see what the other was going to say. I wondered if he’d have an easier time asking me out if he wasn’t technically my boss. If he wanted to ask me out, that is.

  “Hey, maybe we should exchange numbers,” I said before I could think about it and chicken out. “I mean, just in case I can’t make it in to work or something. I don’t have the call-in number.” Yes, I got how dumb that sounded. The call-in number I’m sure was posted in a hundred places around here, and at the very least I could’ve asked for that number.

  Noah’s face grew serious. I could almost see his wheels turning, trying to figure out if it was appropriate to give me his number while we were working. Of course, I was now officially off the clock. I smiled brightly, and that seemed to do the trick. “Sure.” He recited the number as I touched the buttons on my phone.

  “Thanks,” I said, waiting for his phone to register my call. I laughed when his ringtone went off. “Sesame Street theme? Really?”

  He pulled his phone from his pocket and jabbed at the end button. “Damn it, Steve.”

  “Steve…sure…” I dragged out the words as he adjusted the settings on his phone, his face pink.

  “He thinks it’s funny. A couple weeks ago it was Barney. Trust me, Sesame Street’s nothing.”

  “You’re cute when you’re embarrassed.”

  “Well, you’re cute when you’re laughing at me.”

  Both of us stood there, frozen. Did we really just have that exchange? My face must be turning a gazillion shades of red. Just like his right now.

  Roxanne walked up at that moment and pushed me aside with her hips to type her number in the clock. “Excuse me,” she said, giving me the most fake smile ever. “Hi, Noah.”

  I gritted my teeth and resisted the urge to smack her platinum head.

  “Hi, Roxanne,” he said, his lips twitching at my obvious irritation toward her.

  Roxanne stepped between us and deliberately turned her back on me. “Something smells,” she said, her eyes moving over me. “If you’re going to do that, Cheerleader, try taking it in the bathroom.”

  I gaped at her. Did she just insinuate that I farted? I clamped my mouth shut and shook my head as Noah pressed his lips together in an obvious effort to not laugh.

  “Interesting,” Noah said, his lips still twitching as he walked me to the front. “Somebody has it out for you.”

  “Yeah. I think she overheard you telling me my mom had to get me this job, and she hasn’t let me live it down.”

  He frowned. “Crap, I’m sorry about that.”

  I waved a hand at him. “Trust me, it doesn’t bother me. She just needs to get a life. And stop calling me a cheerleader.”

  “Yeah. She went to our high school, you know. I don’t remember her—she was a senior when I was a freshman—but I guess she had some big problems there. She always says how much she hated school.”

  I thought about her comment about cheerleaders. My guess was she either got bullied by them or was one of the Haters—kids who talked smack about those of us in organiz
ed teams because they felt they could. I hoped it wasn’t a bully thing, but either way, it wasn’t my fault. I didn’t even know her in high school.

  Before I realized it, we were outside. I looked around for my mother’s car but I guess she was running late. “My mom should be here soon,” I said. “You don’t have to wait with me.”

  “It’s okay, I don’t mind.”

  I smiled to myself. As we stood in the heat, I mentally ran through our conversation. It was nice. Friendly. I tried not to think about the fact that this guy, who knew nothing about softball, knew that I was on a traveling team, or that his smile lingered in my mind far longer than it should have. Or that he told me I was cute. Now he had my number and I had his. I just wished I knew what to do with it.

  An old woman walked out of SmartMart, struggling to carry an armful of bags. Noah shrugged apologetically at me as he offered to help her. I smiled as I watched him take the bags from her. Total gentleman. I leaned against the wall to wait for my mother, but the familiar red Mustang that swung into the pick-up lane wasn’t her. Bryce stepped out of the car and waved to me. “Hey Lex! Let’s go!”

  Instinctively, I looked around, but Noah was busy loading groceries in the lady’s car. “Thanks!” I slid into the front seat as he got in. “How’d you know I was getting off now?”

  Bryce snorted, but before he could make his usual “that’s what she said” joke, I smacked his arm. “From my shift. Get your mind out of the gutter.”

  “I went by your house to pick you up for practice and your mom said she was on her way to get you. I offered to come instead.”

  “Practice?” Crap, I’d forgotten it was Tuesday.

  He stared at me. “Um, yeah, pitching practice like we do almost every Tuesday night. What’s wrong with you?”

  “Nothing’s wrong with me.”

  He shook his head as he maneuvered the car to the road. “Sorry. Court said you’d been distracted lately, and when she gets pissed I hear all about it.” He grimaced.

  “What do you mean, distracted?”

  “She says you don’t talk to her as much as you used to.”

  I groaned. “I have a new job. Tell Court I can’t exactly talk while I’m working.”

  “Believe it or not, I did tell her that.” He laughed. “Court is Court. So how is SmartFart anyway?”

  “Meh. Boring most of the time.” Except for Noah.

  “My mom said she’d hire you at her store for the summer if you can get out of it.”

  “No, it’s okay.” He raised an eyebrow at me as I realized how quickly I’d said that. Not that working at his mom’s store, Clique, would be a bad idea—in fact, I knew that Bryce and sometimes Court helped out there, so it could be fun. But I was finally getting the hang of SmartMart. It’d be stupid to leave now.

  That’s what I told myself, at least.

  11

  Let’s Have a Ball was easily my favorite part of summer. It was conducted at our community baseball fields on Saturdays, just before my regular practice, and the attendees were kids who couldn’t afford summer camp. We had gotten to know them pretty well, since many of them had been with us from the beginning three years ago.

  Funny enough, it was my mother who had suggested the camp as a volunteer activity when I was going into high school. The school had a fast-track program that offered college credits if you qualified, and that included having a certain amount of volunteer hours. Mom thought I could use my interest in softball to help out little kids, one of the few times I ever agreed with her choice for me.

  She seemed to forget that it was her idea I got involved with it in the first place, though. I think she didn’t expect me to put that many hours into the camp and got annoyed when she had to drive me there so much. Hello, did she ever think of just getting me a car? But I knew the thought of me driving myself around terrified her. She’d rattle off statistics about how many teen accidents took place that month whenever I bugged her about it. And even my dad wouldn’t budge. I think he read the same reports. But a promise was a promise. If I could stick it out at SmartMart for the summer—which I would—she’d have no choice but to help me out with the car.

  My mother dropped me off at the start of practice. Syd was already jogging around the field with our group to warm up, her brown ponytail wagging behind her. She used to be catcher on the softball team but was switching with Emily Grace for first base position next season. I liked Emily Grace—she had a strong arm and was quick—but I was going to miss Syd behind home plate. This would be my first season pitching to someone else.

  Syd waved as they completed their lap and headed toward me, kids in tow. “It’s about time you got here.”

  “Hey, Lex!” Andrew ran over to me from Bryce’s group. He was only seven—one of the smallest kids there with one of the biggest personalities. He was also one of my favorites. “Bryce said you’d help us catch.”

  “Catch what?”

  “Duh, fish.”

  I smacked his cap lightly. “Have you been practicing?”

  “Yep! My mom’s been working with me.”

  I hugged him. “That’s awesome.” Andrew’s dad wasn’t around much since the divorce, according to his mother. So for her to spend time playing ball with her son, even though she had two jobs, was a huge deal, and more than what many kids got. It was the best feeling knowing that the camp was actually bringing families together.

  While Bryce practiced with some of the kids on their swing, I set teams up to toss the ball back and forth with each other, stopping every now and then to correct the positioning of their gloves. Occasionally, I’d look over at Bryce to admire his perfect stance as he swung the bat. I wish I had the powerful swing that he did, but no matter how much I practiced, I couldn’t knock them out of the park like he did.

  I did notice that he did this thing where he pointed the bat to the sky right between pitches. The other kids tried to mimic him. It never occurred to me that it was kind of a stupid thing to do. What was he doing, anyway? Praying to the gods for a hit?

  My mother once told me that daydreaming was dangerous. I always thought she meant it figuratively…until Andrew’s ball smacked me in the forehead while I was watching Bryce.

  The force stunned me, knocking me to the ground in shock. I thought when things hit you in the head, you blacked out or went dizzy or something. But the only thought that crossed my mind when the ball smacked me was my mother and her daydream warning.

  “Oh my God, are you okay?” Syd’s face appeared over me just as a searing pain shot through my head.

  “I’m sorry! I’m sorry! It was an accident,” I could hear Andrew crying in the background.

  “It’s okay,” I mumbled, pushing myself to my elbows. I touched the spot gingerly as Bryce came running over. “Shit, Lex, you okay?”

  “Yeah. Just… Ouch.”

  Coach Marcus peered at my forehead. “You’ve got a pretty nasty bump there. We need to get you to urgent care.”

  “No, I’ll be all right.”

  Syd pulled out her phone and poked at it with her finger. “I’m calling your mom.”

  “Don’t worry, Lex. I’ll take over your group,” Emily Grace said, smiling though her eyes were fixed on my forehead. Everyone was staring at my forehead—crap, what did it look like?

  With nothing else left to say, I had no choice but to let Coach Marcus’s wife drive me to the clinic. Bryce followed in his truck with Syd right behind him. They were making way too big a deal of this.

  The clinic was empty when we arrived, so the doctor was able to see me right away. They didn’t bother to do a scan or anything, saying I was lucky the ball hit me where it did. Or, as the doctor said about the lump, “Better out than in.” He gave me an ice pack and instructions for watching the lump in case it got worse. I was headed back to the lobby when my mother burst through the doors, her eyes wide.

  “Oh, God, Alexis!” she cried, running to me.

  I held my hands up. “I’m okay, Mom. Rea
lly.”

  “Let me see.” She gently swiped my hair back and peered at my bump. “Oh my God, it’s huge!” Of course, the rising level of her voice grabbed the attention of the doctor—and everyone else in the vicinity. He walked over and introduced himself.

  “Don’t worry about her, she’s a lucky one.” He winked at me.

  “Lucky?” My mother’s voice was piercing. “You call getting hit by a baseball lucky?” She pulled me to her, stroking the back of my hair like I was three. “It’s not going to leave a permanent mark, is it?” she asked the doctor.

  “Mom, I’m fine. Really.”

  “Honey,” she said, touching the bump gently with a finger. I flinched. “I don’t know that you should keep volunteering at that camp. Too dangerous.”

  “Dangerous? Give me a break, Mom, this was just a weird accident. I’m not quitting, and I need to get back.”

  “You’re definitely not going back today.”

  “Yes, I am.”

  “No, you’re not, and that’s final.”

  I took a deep breath. “It’s not just camp. I have practice today, and if I don’t show…” Coach will have Maggie replace me.

  Mom put her arm around me, and for one stupid moment, I thought she’d let me go. “Honey, I know softball is very important to you. But your health is very important to me. The doctor says you need rest, so rest you get.”

  I glared at the lab-coated prison warden, who was smiling and nodding in agreement.

  While my mother talked to the nurse, I walked back out to the lobby. Bryce and Syd stood up, the concern in their eyes warming me.

  I waved at them. “It’s just a bump, no big deal. I need to get back to the fields—can I ride with one of you?”

  “Um, are you sure?” Syd asked, staring at my bruised forehead. “You look like you need to hang low for today.”

  I laughed, wincing slightly as my head splintered. “I’m fine.” My smile dropped as I tried for the desperate plea tactic. “Guys, you know Coach Santiago might replace me with Maggie permanently if I don’t show up to practice. I’ve already missed too many.”