A cigarette is a close second.
“Where’s Isaiah?” Though I’m grateful for my aunt, my heart was set on seeing my best friend.
“Outside. He called me the moment he heard from you.” Shirley squeezes me before breaking our embrace. “What a mess.”
“I know. Have you seen Mom?”
She nods, then leans in and whispers in my ear, “Your mom told me what really happened.”
The muscles around my mouth tighten and I try to stop my lower lip from trembling. “What do I do?”
Shirley runs her hands up and down my arms. “Stick with your story. They brought Trent and your mom in for questioning. With you not talking, they couldn’t find anything to arrest them on. Your mom’s twitchy though. If you talk, they’ll send her to jail for breaking probation and the destruction of property. She’s scared of going to jail.”
So am I, but Mom can’t hack jail. “What’s going to happen to me?”
Her arms drop to her sides and she places the table between us. It’s only a few steps, but it creates a gap resembling a canyon. I turned seventeen last month. Before tonight, I felt like an adult: old and big. I don’t feel so big anymore. Right now I feel small and very, very alone. “Shirley?”
“Your uncle and I don’t have money for a lawyer. Isaiah and Noah, even that girl Noah brings around, they offered what they had, but your uncle and I got scared once the cops told us you took a bat to Trent. Then I had an idea.”
My heart sinks as if someone yanked a trapdoor right below it. “What did you do?”
“I know you don’t want anything to do with your dad’s side, but his brother, Scott—he’s a good man. Left that baseball team and became a businessman. He has a lawyer. A fancy one.”
“Scott?” My mouth gapes.
“How…what…” My breathing becomes shallow as I try to make sense of the insanity falling out of my aunt’s lips. “Impossible. He left.”
“He did,” she says slowly. “But he moved back to his hometown last month and he called me to find you. He wanted you to go live with him and his wife, but we blew him off. Your mom talked to him when he got persistent and she told him you ran away.”
My lip curls at the thought of him anywhere near me. “Good choice. So why involve Scott now? We don’t need him. We can figure this out without him or his fancy lawyer.”
“They said you were going to hit Trent with a bat,” Shirley repeats as she wrings her hands together. “That’s serious and I thought we needed help.”
“No. Tell me you didn’t.” I’m in hell. Or pretty damn close.
“We would have respected your wishes about him, but then this happened and…I called him. Listen to me, he has a great life now. Lots of money and he wants you.”
I start to laugh. Only it’s not funny. It’s not even close to funny. It’s the saddest damn thing I’ve ever heard. I collapse into the seat and rest my head in my hands. “No, he doesn’t.”
“He got the charges dropped.” Not a hint of happiness can be found in her voice.
I keep my face hidden, unable to look at her to see whatever truth she’s been building toward. “What did you do?” I ask again.
Shirley kneels beside me and pitches her voice low. “When I called him, your uncle Scott went to your mom’s apartment. He saw things he shouldn’t have seen. Things that can hurt your mom.”
I sway to the side as if I’ve been hit by a wave and the rushing sound of being sucked into the ocean whirls in my ears. My world is crashing around me. He went into my old room. Mom told me never to go in there after I left to live with Shirley. I never have. There are things even I don’t want to know.
“He didn’t tell the police,” she says.
Shocked by her revelation, I peek at her through my fingers. “Really?”
Shirley’s lips turn down and she scrunches her forehead. “Your mom had no choice. He walked into the station with his lawyer and made the demand—she either turned over custody of you to him, or he would tell the cops what he saw.”
My aunt stares at me, her eyes bleak. “She signed over custody. He’s your legal guardian now.”
Ryan
THANKS TO THE SHOWERS at the community center, there’s no need to head home. Clean and dressed in street clothes, I return to heaven.
Everyone has left the ballpark. The bleachers are empty. The concession stand closed. Kenny Chesney blares from the parking lot, meaning that Chris ignored me when I told him I’d catch up with him later. Chris is really good at three things—playing shortstop, loving his girl, and knowing what I need even when I don’t know it myself.
At least most of the time.
From the community pool, little kids squeal in delight in time to the sounds of splashing and the bounce of the diving board. My brother Mark and I spent most of our summers swimming in that pool. The other part, we spent playing ball.
I stand on the pitcher’s mound, except this time I’m in blue jeans and my favorite Reds Tshirt. The early evening sky fades from blue to orange-and-yellow. It’s no longer a million degrees and the breeze shifts from the south to the north. This is my favorite part of the game—the time alone afterward.
The rush of winning and the knowledge I have a scout interested in me still linger in my blood. My lungs expand with clean oxygen and my muscles lose the tension that weighed me down during the game. I feel relaxed, at peace, and alive.