Perfect - 02

  Our first two bats retire

  quickly too, but the third

  manages to slip one between

  the short and second baseman.

  Cleanup. That’s me. On

  the way to the plate, I

  peer up into the stands,

  hoping Cara will smile

  for me. But my good luck

  charm looks distracted.

  Maybe even worried. Hmm.

  Batter up! warns the ump.

  Wonder what Cara…

  Steeerike! Goddamn it.

  I try really hard to focus.

  Catch a piece of a curve-

  ball. Not a big enough

  piece. It’s a short fly, but

  thank God I run. The first

  baseman misjudges, misses

  the catch, and I arrive safely

  on base on an error. Not

  exactly going to impress

  the scouts like that, but

  better than an easy out.

  Up comes Bobby, who’s as

  average at the bat as he is

  playing shortstop. Surprise!

  He smacks the first pitch

  deep into center field. Triple,

  and I score the second run

  of the game for the Grizzlies.

  Rocky start. But I’ll get

  my bat going yet. Won’t I?

  Bottom Of The Eighth

  Down two runs, I’ve yet to

  get my bat going. Fielding-

  wise, I’ve made a couple

  of great plays. Just not

  when we needed them.

  Distracted, that’s what I’ve

  been, and I can’t quite manage

  to stay focused on the game.

  Every time I look at Cara,

  she’s talking to that girl, all

  attention aimed toward her.

  And the way she looks

  at Cara… Damn, what

  am I thinking? Right now,

  bases loaded, one out,

  I really need to get my head

  back into the game. So why

  do I turn my eyes toward

  the bleachers? Only this time,

  for whatever reason, Cara smiles.

  At me. Bright and sweet

  and real. And that’s all

  the encouragement I need

  to grab my bat, step up to

  the plate, throw the pitcher

  a “give it your best shot” look.

  It’s the first time today he’s seen

  me swell with determination.

  His shoulders twitch. First

  pitch hits the dirt in front

  of the catcher. My turn to

  grin, and he doesn’t like

  that at all. Second pitch,

  a big, lazy curve that I let

  go by. I want a fastball. Come

  on. Unbelievably, that’s what

  he sends. Nothing for it but

  to swing for the bleachers.

  Clank! It’s gone. Over

  the fence. Grand slam.

  The Reno pitcher deflates

  as the Grizzlies crowd screams.

  I start my trot, eyes scanning

  the seats. Yep. The scouts

  are taking notes. And Cara

  is on her feet, clapping.

  Not sure which one means

  the most to me right now.

  I’ll call it a tie. I round

  the bases, cross home plate,

  suck up the back slapping

  and high fives. I barely

  notice Bobby make our

  third out. Barely notice

  the top-of-the-ninth-inning

  play resulting in our win.

  What I do notice is how

  the scouts pack up and

  leave, right after Cara exits

  with the spiky-haired girl.

  Being The Hero

  Ain’t all bad, and while part

  of me wants to go straight

  after Cara, most of me likes

  soaking up the limelight rays.

  We trade handshakes, head

  for the showers, compliments

  flying left and right. Cara

  isn’t handing them out, but

  other girls are, along with

  teammates and even some

  guys from the other team.

  I get cleaned up, and when

  I finally emerge from the locker

  room, Uncle Jeff is waiting for me.

  Great hit, son. Guess you saw

  the scouts. One of ’em is an old

  friend of mine. He’s at Louisville,

  and I can tell you they’re very

  interested. I know you’ve got

  your heart set on Stanford,

  but I told him you’d be happy

  to talk. That’s right, isn’t it?

  I mean, just in case things don’t

  work out.… He looks at me

  cautiously. Does he expect me

  to get all pissed? “Sure, Jeff.

  We can always talk.” It won’t

  make any difference. Stanford

  will want me too, and it’s not

  a bad thing to have interest from

  more than one school. Uncle Jeff

  looks relieved. Guess maybe I’ve

  been a little short-tempered lately.

  “Anything else? I want to call

  Cara.” Jeff shakes his head, says

  he’ll see me at home. When I try

  Cara’s cell, she picks up right

  away. “Can we get together later?”

  For some reason, I’m a little

  surprised when she says okay.

  Andre

  For Some Reason

  More and more, day

  by day, my life feels

  like an ultimate

  rush

  thrill ride. One minute

  I’m in the air, soaring

  to unimaginable heights.

  Close my eyes, I

  plunge

  toward the earth,

  breath caught within

  the fear, then inches

  from the crash, I

  find

  my wings again.

  And it’s all because

  of her. She is madness,

  sanity. She is hell, and

  paradise.

  I Can’t Believe

  The things I’ll do for Jenna. I mean, thrill

  rides are only the start.

  Today I am going to watch a cheerleading

  competition that her sister is in. No way

  to spend a Saturday, but

  Jenna is very good at getting what she wants.

  Usually when I pick her up, she’s outside,

  waiting. Not this time.

  I sit at the curb for a few minutes, finally

  dial her cell phone, which goes straight

  to voice mail. Guess that

  leaves going up to the door, and as I make

  the long walk, it comes to me that I might

  actually meet her family.

  Part of it, anyway. I ring the doorbell. Wait.

  Finally I hear footsteps. A fortyish woman

  opens the door. She is

  taller than Jenna, more slender. But they share

  the same platinum beauty. “Mrs.…” No,

  Mathieson isn’t right.

  That would be Jenna’s dad’s last name.

  I realize I don’t know her last name. “Uh,

  I’m Andre. Jenna’s…”

  God, does she even know we’re going out?

  Her expression says maybe not. “Uh, is Jenna

  here?” I am a total clod.

  Of course she’s here. If not, I should run.

  Despite her obvious shock, she says,

  Jenna will be ready

  in a minute. Come on in. She moves

  away from the door, and
I feel like I really

  need to apologize.

  “I’m sorry I don’t know your name. Jenna

  calls you ‘Mom and Patrick.’ I mean, you and

  your husband…” I need

  to shut up now. Thank God she’s smiling.

  Before She Can Enlighten Me

  Jenna stomps into the hallway, eyes

  sharp with anger.

  I hate him. He can’t be serious, right?

  The question is directed at her mother,

  who answers with a shrug.

  I know I shouldn’t ask, but I do. “Who?”

  My poor excuse for a father. Can you

  believe he’s getting

  married, and he wants Ken and me to

  be in the wedding party? Bridesmaids?

  I wouldn’t even do

  that for someone I liked. What a joke.

  Arguing with her is not a wise thing to do.

  So why do I let words fall

  out of my mouth? “But wouldn’t you feel

  bad if he got married without you there?”

  At her evil expression,

  I joke, “Anyway, you know you’d look amazing

  in one of those beautiful bridesmaid dresses.

  Maybe amethyst or fuchsia

  or something?” My grin is met with bitter stares.

  Both from Jenna and from her mom. I don’t think

  I’m making much

  of an impression on Mrs.… whatever her name is.

  “Okay, maybe not. Well then, are you ready to go?

  Does your sister need a ride?”

  I haven’t yet met the infamous Kendra, either.

  She drives, you know. And she left hours ago.

  They have to warm up, not

  to mention all that makeup and hair stuff.

  Jenna is more the natural type. She’s pretty

  without makeup, and all

  her waist-length hair needs is brushing.

  Standing here is getting uncomfortable, though.

  “It was very nice to meet

  you,” I tell Jenna’s mom. All she does is nod.

  We Are Halfway There

  And neither of us has said a word. I know

  Jenna is stressing out

  about her dad’s wedding, but I’m stressed

  about something totally different. “Did you

  ever tell your parents about

  me? I thought your mom’s jaw was going to

  stick in the open position when she saw me.

  Didn’t help things when

  I didn’t know her name. What is it, anyway?”

  Jenna pulls herself out of the trance she’s

  been under. What? Mom’s

  name is Caroline. Why do you want to know?

  “Not her first name. Her last name. You

  never told me, and it

  was rather embarrassing not to know it.”

  I did tell—I never told you? Her—

  Patrick’s—last name is

  Carruthers. Sorry. I could have sworn…

  Funny, no matter what she does or doesn’t

  do, all she has to do is say

  “I’m sorry,” and my anger just melts away.

  “Oh well, it doesn’t matter now. I was a shock,

  obviously. Don’t you

  talk to your mom about who you’re dating?”

  Seriously? Of course not. We’re not, like,

  best friends or anything.

  God, I barely talk to Kendra about stuff.

  “Why not? I thought sisters told each other

  everything.” Not that I’d know

  anything about it, except what I’ve seen on TV.

  You don’t believe everything you see on

  Lifetime, right? Wait. Do

  you watch Lifetime? Because that’s weird.

  “Lifetime? Wha…?” And now we’re both

  laughing. Jenna has the rare

  talent to be able to turn anything into a joke.

  The Carson High Parking Lot

  Is overflowing cars, and a steady line of people

  heads toward the gym. “Wow.

  How many teams compete in these things?”

  Jenna shrugs. Pretty much every northern

  Nevada high school will

  be here. Even some from the rural counties.

  Which makes it dozens. We squirm our way

  through the door, look for

  a couple of empty spaces in the packed bleachers.

  The competition is well under way. We watch

  a team from Reno High

  complete a complicated routine. I’m not a huge

  sports fan, so rarely watch cheerleaders. But

  after witnessing three

  or four squads do their thing, I have to admit

  I’m impressed. They could be really great

  dancers, not to mention

  gymnasts. “They’re really athletic, aren’t they?”

  Jenna snorts and elbows me in the ribs. Well,

  duh. What did you

  think this was? Third-grade gymnastics? It takes

  years of practice to reach this level. And that

  takes real dedication,

  which explains why you’ll never see me cheer.

  “Is there anything you are totally committed

  to?” I guess I’m hoping

  she’ll say me. Maybe I shouldn’t have asked.

  Her fingers knit with mine, and my heart

  tries to convince my brain

  that she’s going to say the words I want to hear.

  My brain is not surprised when she whispers,

  Commitment means

  losing yourself to gain something temporary.

  Nothing lasts. Not looks. Not love. I’m living

  large and living for

  today because there might not be a tomorrow.

  Her Admission

  Stated so matter-of-factly is like a slap

  to my cheek. I suck in

  breath. How did she become so world-weary?

  I want to argue. But she’s right about looks

  not lasting. Even my mom,

  who is beautiful for her age and knows every

  skin care secret, is starting to look middle-aged.

  Love? Well, it seems to

  fade for everyone eventually. And tomorrow?

  Okay, fine. I kiss her gently on the cheek, softly

  exhale into her ear. “If all

  you can promise me is today, I’ll take it and hope

  for tomorrow. And just so you know, today

  I love you, Jenna.” Her face

  swivels toward me, and her eyes bore into mine.

  If she’s looking for lies, she can’t find them

  there. But though she

  blushes pleasure, all she says is, Thank you.

  More Than Anything

  I want to take her out of here, find a warm

  hideaway to show her

  exactly how much I love her. But just now

  the announcer tells us the Grizzly Girls are making

  their way to the floor.

  No need to ask which one is Kendra. She’s her

  mother’s daughter. Except she’s rice-paper thin.

  “Does your sister eat?” I ask,

  half expecting a rebuke. Instead, Jenna answers,

  Only when she absolutely has to. She’s doing

  the heroin chic thing.

  You’d think Mom would do something, huh?

  Actually, yes. But Kendra seems to be strong

  enough. She’s tall, so is on

  the bottom rung of all their pyramid stacks, along

  with a muscular girl with toffee hair and a chubby

  redhead. A girl on the middle

  tier draws my eye. She is compact. Round. And black.

  The Grizzly Girls

  Are a formidable team, and they place well

  ahead of t
he rest. After

  they collect their trophy, Kendra waves

  toward Jenna. Guess we should go say

  hi. She gloms onto

  my hand, holds tight, leads me down

  the bleacher stairs like I’m a little kid who

  can’t handle it on his own.

  But that’s okay. I like the possessiveness.

  All eyes are on me, and each pair seems

  to hold a different

  opinion. Jenna makes the introductions.

  This is my sister, Kendra. The toffee-haired

  girl is Cara; the redhead,

  Aubree. And the black girl is named Shantell.

  It is she who gives the most scathing look.

  And when I say, “Pleased

  to meet you,” she turns around, stalks away.

  Cara

  Turned Around

  I can’t see the hurt in Sean’s

  eyes. Blinders on, I can pretend

  he wants me to run from him.

  I

  have opened the flood-

  gates, am helpless against

  the furious flow. I

  don’t

  have the strength to fight,

  can barely keep my head

  above water, and I don’t

  know

  where I’ll wash up if I just

  let go. Does it hurt to drown?

  No one teaches you

  how to

  walk away from someone

  who you know loves you.

  No one teaches you how to

  say good-bye.

  I Have Become An Expert

  At making excuses. Manufacturing

  lies. Walking the tightrope between

  fact and fiction. Why can’t I just

  come clean? I’m such a coward.

  I am afraid of hurting Sean, who

  hasn’t done anything wrong except

  not be Dani. And maybe, just maybe,

  not belong to the right gender club.

  I’m also afraid of that possible truth.

  Can a girl fall in love with a girl

  and not be gay? Can she dream

  of silken skin, perfumed with female

  musk, yet joyfully submit to a man’s

  calloused touch? I still think I owe