Missy stands next to me. “You really can’t escape Murph, can you? No wonder you’ve been freaking out.”
I shut the blinds. “I’ve been freaking out about Zachary because I didn’t want to believe that he changed.”
Missy turns toward me. “I’m sorry—you really have been dealing with a lot of that lately.” She pauses. “Change, I mean.”
“No kidding.”
Missy pushes out her lip-glossed bottom lip. “Aww . . . but that’s exactly why you should’ve told me about everything! I could’ve helped.”
“Miss, it’s humiliating enough to be in my situation without all of Beachwood knowing.”
“I would never tell anyone, Ky.” Missy places her hand on my shoulder. “I can’t believe you don’t trust me.”
“I don’t trust anyone right now.”
“You trust Zach. . . .”
“I did trust him. But that’s different. He wouldn’t talk about me. Or at least there was a time when he wouldn’t have . . . ”
“Yeah, he might not talk about you, but he’ll rip your heart out and stomp on it,” she says, pulling me down to the hardwood floor. We both sit cross-legged, our knees touching. “You know sometimes when you think people are talking about you to be mean, they’re really just worried about you.”
“Easy for you to say. Your life isn’t falling apart.” I stare at my painted toenails.
“Yeah, I’m really lucky that things in my life are pretty good right now, but—”
I cut her off. “Which is exactly why—”
She does the same to me. “Ky, let me finish.” She takes a deep breath. “I meant what I said—there are people out there who want to help you, but you just turn away.”
“Even if you’re right, and I’m not saying that you are, all of that was before the article hit.”
“Come on, Ky. Everyone is pretty used to your Murph madness. I’m sure they’ll find a way to get over it.”
“I doubt it. Everyone hates me. Especially my teammates.”
“They won’t forever.”
I roll my eyes. “Have you been hanging out with my dad?”
“Nah, I’m not that good of a friend.” Missy giggles. “But seriously, even if you were the source—and like I said, I don’t care if you are—you just have to find a way to make it up to people.”
I push myself off the ground and walk over to my closet, grabbing hold of the Marc Jacobs garment bag. “Sometimes that doesn’t work.”
Missy stands up and maneuvers her way around my bed to stand next to me. “Yeah, sometimes it doesn’t. But you’re Kylie Collins. You have to try.”
Missy pulls the garment bag from my grasp and lays it out on my bed. “So this is the dress your mom sent you, huh?” She unzips the bag and brushes her fingers against the soft material. Then she picks it up by the hanger and gently twists the dress to admire the detailed back.
Satisfied, Missy places the dress back inside the garment bag. “So your mom mailed you the dress you were supposed to pick out with her. . . . ”
“Yeah, that’s pretty much what happened. But it doesn’t matter. I’m not even going to prom now anyway.”
“Uh, hello? Yes you are. You can’t bail on me now.”
“It’s not you that I’m bailing on. It’s my life.”
“How about instead of doing that, you try an easy fix.” She walks over to my bag and pulls out my cell phone. Then she wraps her arms around me in a big hug. When she pulls away, she places the phone into my hand and says, “You know what to do to make this right.” Then she leaves.
For a split second, I stare at the phone in my hand. Then I make my decision.
thirty-nine
After pre-calc the next day, the hallway is abuzz with prom chatter as I walk toward the locker room to dress for our final game before the big Desert Invitational tournament. I adjust the strap of my softball bag and spot Jessica and Abby staring at a copy of the Sand Dollar.
Here it goes.
“Hey.” Taylor steps in front of me, holding a copy of the newspaper. She hands it to me. “Good stuff,” she says, beaming at me.
I look down. The headline, COLLINS COMES FORWARD, stares back at me.
Taylor continues. “At first, I thought you were blowing your cover just to trash Amber some more. But then when I read the article, I was shocked.”
“You were?”
“Yeah! But then again, I remembered our talk in the locker room last season. I always knew you had it in you.”
I hand the newspaper back to Taylor and the edges of my mouth break into a smile.
“No, you keep it,” she says, holding up her hand.
My smile grows wider as Taylor rejoins Abby and Jessica. Abby gives me the thumbs-up.
I wave to her and walk into an unused classroom. Then I spread the newspaper out on a desk and read the article.
COLLINS COMES FORWARD
In a shocking move, junior Kylie Collins has decided to publicly identify herself as the unnamed source behind the recent Sand Dollar article “Softball Shake-up at Beachwood Academy.” She has asked that her earlier statement, in which she accused fellow junior star pitcher, Amber McDonald, of an illegal transfer, be retracted and reports that, to her knowledge, McDonald’s transfer did in fact meet California High School Athletic Association (CHSAA) requirements.“I guess I was just jealous,” Collins said from her home last night. “I was looking for a way to win my spot back.”Collins, also a nominee for prom princess, was Beachwood Academy Softball’s starting pitcher for the last two consecutive years. Amber McDonald, an all-state selection last year, earned the starting spot for the Wildcats this year, following her transfer from Upper Crest Academy.“Amber would never do anything illegal,” Collins stated. “She’s one of the nicest and most talented players I’ve ever known.”McDonald has no prior record of any previous infractions.“It was wrong of me to accuse Amber,” Collins continued. “I really hope she can forgive me for attacking her during a very sensitive time.”At press time, McDonald is suspended from play and scheduled to meet with the CHSAA on Friday to decide her fate. This suspension comes at a particularly trying time for the Wildcats—one day before the prestigious Desert Invitational tournament.
Okay, not so bad . . . It could have been worse.
I crumple the paper and am about to throw it—and hopefully this entire mess—into the garbage can when I see a note in the bottom right-hand column.
TO ALL STUDENTS:
Please note: publication of the Sand Dollar will temporarily be suspended as the Beachwood Academy administration looks into possible ethical violations on the part of its reporting staff.
So Rob Hamilton is in as much trouble as me . . . . There is some justice in the universe.
Convinced that I’ve read enough, I drop the newspaper into the trash and pick up my softball bag. I walk back into the hallway, about to resume my trek to the locker room, when Coach Kate pokes out her head from her office. “Kylie, we need to see you for a second.”
Great. Here we go again.
I let out a deep breath and step in Coach Kate’s office, ready to receive my punishment.
forty
Although Coach Kate and Martie were a little more understanding about my behavior after I spilled my guts, I’ve officially been benched now that Sophia is back at school. Can’t say that I disagree with their verdict.
“Abby’s hurt, Coach!” Phoenix yells, just before the third inning of our away game against Curtis High.
I watch in horror as the team surrounds Abby at second. Immediately, the trainers sprint to the outfield, their first aid bags in hand.
In that moment, I cease to care whether anyone’s still angry at me. It doesn’t even matter that tomorrow is the Desert Invitational. Abby—Zoe’s best friend—is hurt. I jump off the bench and dash toward second base.
“What happened?” I ask. I spot Abby laid out on the orange dirt, grabbing her knee. Zoe bends over her, holding her hand.
&nbs
p; “Abs was moving hard to cover second, but her foot got caught and she fell,” Nyla recounts.
“Hope it’s not her ACL,” Phoenix says.
“That’s horrible,” Amber adds, peering over the group.
Abby scrunches her face as the trainers begin to work on her knee.
“Ohmigod, I hope she’s okay,” Emily says.
I call out to Abby, “We’re here for you, Abs!”
She grimaces.
One trainer gently presses against the injury, and Abby cries out.
“Give her air!” the trainer shouts.
About three minutes later, an ambulance pulls into the complex, swings around, and backs up onto the side of the field. Two medics pile out and rush a gurney onto the field. They hoist Abby up and wheel her into the ambulance. She holds out her hand, clinging to Zoe.
Zoe looks at Abby and then back at the team. And then, all of a sudden, it’s like she has an epiphany. “She’s not going to the hospital without me!” she announces.
Coach Kate turns to Emily. “Be honest with me. Has your wrist healed enough for you to play?”
Emily nods her head yes.
“Okay, then, I’ll reinstate you as catcher,” Coach replies. Coach motions for one of the trainers to quickly examine her.
“So that means I’m free to go?” Zoe asks.
Coach Kate shrugs. Clearly, she’s had enough.
Chloe rushes forward to Coach Kate. “Forget about catcher. Who’s going to play second?” she asks, scanning our remaining teammates.
“Danielle, you’re in.” Coach motions to second base. Instantly, Danielle’s usual swagger is replaced by a look of panic. She’s barely seen a second of playing time all season.
I hang my head and drift back toward my spot on the bench.
After today’s meeting, Kibbles is more likely to play second than me.
“Poor Abby,” a voice says. I turn to my left and see that Amber is sitting next to me on the bench. (Coach can’t reinstate her until after tonight’s official CHSAA hearing. So, Sophia of all people is pitching.)
“Yeah, I know, it’s terrible,” I reply, shocked that Amber is talking to me. “I can’t get over all the injuries we’ve had this season.”
“I know! First Emily and now Abby,” Amber says.
“At least Emily is feeling better.” I nod to Emily at home plate.
“Yeah, but Abby’s never gonna get to play at tomorrow’s games.” Amber shakes her head.
“Well, hopefully you will.” I attempt to be cheerful.
“Yeah, I think it’ll be okay . . . . ” Amber trails off. “The CHSAA really doesn’t have anything to hold against me.” She pauses.
“Listen, Amber. I’m so sorry that I said those things about you.”
“Why did you?” Amber asks, confusion written on her face. “I thought we were friends.”
“I shouldn’t have. But I was just so envious.”
“You were envious . . . of me?” Amber’s expression looks dubious.
“Yeah, of course.” I shrug.
“But you’re Kylie Collins, Beachwood Academy superstar.”
“I was ‘Kylie Collins.’ And you’re the starting pitcher.”
“I thought that stuff didn’t bother you. We’ve talked since the roster was announced and everything seemed okay.”
“It wasn’t.”
“Why didn’t you say anything?”
“What was I gonna say? That I’m desperate to go to UCLA? That I wanted my spot back?”
Amber doesn’t say anything in response.
“It’s not like you would have given it to me.”
Amber cocks her head to the side, looking more thoughtful than I’ve ever seen her. “No. But it would’ve been good to know.”
I pause. “I’ve been hearing a lot of that lately.”
“What?”
“That I should be honest with people about what I’m feeling. That I shouldn’t keep everything inside.” Fire burns in my stomach. “That’s why I went to the paper with the retraction. I couldn’t let the lie go on.”
“Thanks for that,” Amber says.
“You don’t have to thank me,” I say. “I was wrong to embarrass you in the first place. And I should never have tried to manipulate the situation. It was the least I could do.”
“But I know what it must have looked like—with Zach at the party. Not that anything happened . . . ”
“I know that now. And honestly, I should have realized it then. You’re not that type of person.”
“No, I’m not.”
We both stop talking as the opposing team scores another run. A collective sigh streams forth from the Beachwood fans.
I break the silence. “Amber, I never would have said this before all this crazy stuff happened, but can we be friends?”
Amber gives me a squeeze. “Of course! That’s all I ever wanted for us.”
I nod in Danielle’s direction. “Do you think she’ll allow it?”
“Uh . . . she’ll get over it eventually.” Amber giggles.
“Okay, so now that we know I’m safe from Danielle, I have to tell you something.”
“Umm . . . okay.”
“My mom lives in New York,” I spill.
“What?” Amber obviously has no idea what I’m talking about.
“My mom left us. Me and my dad.” I let out a deep breath after hearing the truth.
No more saying she works in New York. She left us. Plain and simple.
“Oh my God.” Amber’s eyes fill with concern. “I’m so sorry.”
Feeling a lump in my throat, I turn my attention toward the field. “I’m okay. I just wanted you to know. That’s all.”
I feel Amber’s hand pat my back. Although my first reaction is to move away, I stay put.
“So that’s why you clammed up when I told you about my parents’ divorce?” she asks, her hand still on my back.
I nod.
Another opposing player crosses the plate.
“Come on, girls. Smart choices!” Coach Kate yells.
“I told Coach Kate and Martie about that at our meeting today. After they saw my retraction, they could’ve suspended me from the team. But I think they appreciated hearing about why I’ve been so . . . off.”
“That totally makes sense!” Amber replies.
“Honestly, I’m lucky I’m even on the bench today. Coach Kate had fair grounds for throwing me off the team.”
Amber’s mouth opens like a nutcracker. “But they never would have done that! You made a mistake.”
“Yeah, and it’s one I’ll always regret.”
“Cheer up! You’re on prom court, remember?”
“No, actually, I’m not. I had to step away.”
Amber gasps. “The prom court and softball? That’s horrible. You poor thing.”
“There are worse things . . .” I say, gazing out toward home plate as the opposing team scores another run.
Amber’s bottom lip juts out. “Please tell me you’re still going to the prom.”
“No, not this year,” I say, blinking as tears form in my eyes. “But it’s not just because of prom court. With the whole Zachary thing, I’d already decided that I didn’t want to go.”
Crack. An opposing player sends the ball sailing over the left field.
Coach Kate throws her clipboard on the grass in frustration.
Amber moves her hand from my back to my arm. “But at least you still came close. You know, with the court and everything. No one can take that away from you.” She beams. “I’ve always wanted to be prom princess. And you almost did it.”
I look at Amber. “Well, if anyone deserves to be prom princess, it’s you.”
Her face lights up. “Aww, Ky. You’re the best.”
I wouldn’t go that far.
forty-one
The next morning, the Beachwood Academy bus pulls up at the Desert Invitational tournament parking lot in San Bernardino. We unload the bus one by one. I take a s
tep onto the lush grass and breathe in the hot, dry air. The grounds crew is still raking the fresh orange dirt, and another man is putting the finishing touches on the chalk lines in the batter’s box.
I throw my softball bag over my shoulder and am about to head over to the team room with the other girls (many of whom are chatting about tonight’s prom as much as they are about the Invitational) when I hear Coach Kate call out to me. “Kylie, can I talk to you for a sec?”
“Sure, Coach.” It’s not like I’m actually going to be part of today’s game anyway.
“So, Kylie, I can’t believe I’m going to say this, but I was talking to Martie and we would like to reinstate you.”
“You’d . . . what?” I check my ears to make sure I’m hearing her properly.
“You showed tremendous courage issuing that retraction. And we think that given that, and your recent honesty about your home life, you deserve another shot.”
“You do?” My mouth drops.
“Yes, we do. But please know that we will not be so forgiving the next time you pull a stunt like that.”
“I totally understand. Won’t happen again,” I say in a rush.
“As I said, it better not.”
“Coach, may I ask: What changed your mind?”
“Actually, it was a who. Martie and I met with Amber at the CHSAA hearing last night. After the committee dropped the charges against her, she made a convincing argument in support of your reinstatement.”
“She did?”
“Yes, you’re very lucky to have a friend like her.”
“I know,” I reply. And it’s true: I am. But then it hits me. “Coach, if Amber will be taking the mound, what position will I be playing?”
“Oh, right. About that. Martie and I discussed it, and we think that with Abby’s injury, it would be best for the team if you play second base.”
“Oh.”
“Is that a problem, Kylie?”
“No, I’m just surprised. That’s all.”
“You shouldn’t be. Martie tells me that you’re quite the second baseman for your ASA team.”
“Yeah, I guess. . . .”
“So, does that mean you’re not interested in playing second?”
Stealing Bases Page 17
