Singled Out (11 page)

After practice, we rode back to school on the bus. My arm was sore from all the pitching, and I might have overextended myself on that last fastball to Barrett, but I decided the pain was well worth the victory. Madison had given me an ice pack and
warned me against throwing my arm out—something people were always cautioning me about. I envisioned my arm one day suddenly detaching from my body and heading straight for the batter, and then me tossing my used arm into the nearest garbage can. “You see, I told her she’d throw her arm out,” the coach would say.

After we returned to school, I got off the bus and walked up the blacktop path toward the Richardses. I was exhausted, but I still needed to study.

My cell phone buzzed inside my jacket. “Unknown Caller.” I answered anyway.

“Need a study partner yet?” the voice asked.

“Barrett, how did you get my number?”

In his most innocent voice, he said, “I’ll tell you over Trig.”

“When are you going to quit with this?” I said.

“When are
you
going to quit?” he asked.

“I don’t quit—anything,” I said boldly.

“That’s obvious. Did you enjoy embarrassing me on the field today?”

I smiled and said, “You did hit
one
of them.”

“Big deal.”

“It
is
a big deal. You obviously don’t realize how good I am. You know the last time a guy got a decent hit off me?”
Stop flirting, Taylor. You hate him, remember?

“I have a feeling you’re going to tell me.”

“My sophomore year,” I said.

“You
are
good. I guess I should be proud of my one little hit then, huh?”

“You should be.”
Stop it. Stop being nice!

“Okay, so get cleaned up, eat, and I’ll meet you at the library at 7:30,” he said.

“Bye, Sam,” I sang, hanging up. I needed to stop enjoying talking to him. But it was so hard not to be flattered by the attention. He looked so good staring me down from that batter’s box today. And he was good. It didn’t bother me that he was obviously one of the best ballplayers I had ever come up against.

I then wondered if the big jerk would really be at the library waiting for me when he said he would. Would one tutoring session hurt? I needed to get a good grade on this next quiz. After all, it had been over a month since the dance, and he hadn’t tried anything. Maybe I could trust him. I just wished I had proof he wasn’t a big two-faced liar.

I couldn’t sit still that night. After I finished my History paper, I couldn’t bring myself to do my Trig homework. I kept thinking of Sam Barrett sitting in the library waiting for me. I could always just wander over there and see if he was really there, and if he wasn’t, I could go ahead and finish my homework in the library.

I knew I had to get out of my bedroom, or I was never going to relax. My stubborn will to ignore him was slowly losing out. Something about him staring from under that batter’s helmet had gotten to me.

Before I knew it, I was standing in front of the mirror, brushing my hair and putting on clear lip gloss before grabbing my book bag and heading over to the library. I walked down the aisles to the spot where I ran into him last time. I sat down at the desk and tried to study, but really, I was just waiting to see if he would show. I heard a rustle of books and a jacket
unzipping in the cubicle opposite me. I couldn’t see anyone, and no one could see me. I began to hear whispers.

“Hey, Captain,” said the first voice. “You studying?”

“Yeah, I have a Calc test this week. Why? What’s up?” Sam whispered back.

“We had our weekly council meeting tonight and you didn’t show.” Now I recognized the other voice as Tuttle’s, who continued, “Thought you might be sick or something.”

“Nah, just studying. Sorry, man. I totally lost track of time.”

“No prob, but we need to fill you in on Plan B.”

“Plan B?”

Tuttle’s voice got quieter. “Yeah, you know, getting rid of enemy number two.”

Barrett sighed. “You guys haven’t given up on that yet?”

“No, man, we’ve got to get back at this place for what they did to McCarthy. Besides, this whole thing was
your
idea in the first place. You know, the guys have been talking, and we’re not feeling the love from you lately. You miss meetings, and when you’re there, you never say anything.”

“Yeah, sorry. Just got a lot of stuff going on these days.”

“What? With your parents again?”

“I don’t really want to talk about it,” said Sam. “If you want, I’ll meet you guys tomorrow.”

“Cool. Usual place?”

“You got it.”

There was a quick slap of hands, and then nothing else. I think I had my proof. He
was
trying to help. I tossed a note over the desktop: “What’s the difference between sine and cosine? –A Trig Failure”.

He stood up at his desk and leaned over the top of the cubicle. “Hi,” he whispered, giving me the biggest smile.

I couldn’t do anything else but smile back. At that moment, I asked myself,
What are you getting yourself into, Taylor?

Sam pulled his chair around to my cubicle and began teaching me everything he knew about Trig. Not only was he really smart, but he was surprisingly patient, even when I asked him to repeat every other thing.

After about an hour and a half, my brain was worn out. I wasn’t sure if it was from the studying or from the mental stress of sitting next to him for so long.

True, my guard was down, but I was pretty sure I could trust him.

Now, it was more about not letting him know how attracted to him I was. Yes, he had found it in himself to protect me from his stupid Statesmen friends, but I couldn’t assume that meant he was also interested in me. I let out a big yawn.

“You’re beat, aren’t you?” he said.

“No, I can keep going if you want,” I said, trying to suppress another yawn.

He laughed quietly. “I think we’ve done enough for one night.”

I nodded. “Honestly, I think I stopped listening twenty minutes ago. I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay. Same time tomorrow?”

“If you have the time . . . I mean, I’m sure you have studying of your own to do,” I said, feeling a little guilty he’d be spending so much time on me.

“It’s no problem.” He started packing his book bag. “So tomorrow, then? Same place?”

I got up and slung my bag over my shoulder. “Okay. I really appreciate it.”

“You know I wanted to do this weeks ago.”

“I guess.”

“So, just one question,” he said as he got up from the desk.

“What?” I asked as we walked slowly, side by side, toward the exit.

“Why did you finally decide to trust me?”

I felt guilty about my earlier eavesdropping, so I said, “I figured I’d just take a leap of faith.”

“And if it proves to be a bad leap?”

“Then you’d better make sure you’re wearing a cup next time you bat against me,” I said, opening the door for him.

He raised an eyebrow and smiled.

I
spent the next few nights in the library sitting shoulder-to-shoulder with Sam Barrett. It was the best time I ever had studying. After we finished one session, he walked me back to the Richards house. It took a good ten minutes, and I enjoyed every moment with him in the dark.

“So, I’ve been meaning to ask, why were you guys so upset about what happened to Mike McCarthy?” I turned to him.

“You don’t know?” he asked, looking surprised.

“I know he was expelled for missing curfew, but what’s that got to do with me and Gabby?”

“Well, he
is
kind of the reason you’re here,” Sam said.

“What do you mean?”

“Well, the abridged version is that Mike, who was in my class, was rumored to be having an affair with one of the teachers, Ms. Abernathy.”

“Ms. Abernathy? Oh, the one suing the school?” I said.

“Yeah. They fired her last spring, which is when they threw Mike out of school.”

“So what does that have to do with me?” I said.

“Well, Abernathy sued the school, saying they were discriminating against women, and that they were looking for any reason to get rid of her. There was a lot of bad press. A lot of the alumni stopped making donations,” said Sam. “You and
Gabby and Kwan were supposed to make Hazelton look good again. You know, bring in some girls, prove the school’s not sexist. You get the picture.”

“So Gabby was right.”

“About what?”

“She figured our being offered scholarships had something to do with money.”

He nodded. “You have no idea how much some of the alumni donate to this place.”

“And that’s why they told Gabby she could come back, even after they thought she was stealing—because they were afraid to lose more donations,” I concluded.

“Exactly.”

“I guess this should piss me off, huh?” I said.

“I don’t know. Does it?”

“I’m not sure, to be honest. I guess they’re using me for good press, but I’m kind of using them, too.”

“You are?”

“Yeah. Well, I’m using them for baseball,” I said. “And my dad is using them to help get me into college.”

“Didn’t college recruiters scout your old school?”

“Yeah, sometimes. They saw me pitch and were thrilled to talk to me, but then they saw my grades. My dad thinks if I can just get decent grades here, scouts will assume I must be smart.”

“You didn’t have to take the entrance exam, did you?” he asked, smiling and shaking his head.

“Nope. Neither did Gabby. The headmaster said our grades were fine.”

Sam laughed. “They do whatever they want here. They just change the rules whenever it suits them.”

“So that’s why the Statesmen were angry about Mike?” I asked, kicking at a rock on the walkway.

“Yeah. Mike was a good guy, and the school didn’t buy his side of the story.”

“Do you think he had an affair with the teacher?”

“Nah. She’d never have done that,” Sam said, shaking his head. “She was a beautiful woman, but she was too responsible to do something like that.”

“Did you ever ask Mike about it?” I asked.

“Yeah. He said all he did was give her a ride to her car one night when it was raining downtown. He was really into her, but nothing happened.”

“But somebody saw them together?” I said.

“And turned it into a big scandal,” he said.

“A lot of games go on around here.”

“And you’ve only been here a few months.”

“Speaking of rules and games, what about Plan B?”

Sam didn’t say anything at first. He had a look of shame in his eyes. “I’m sorry about all this, Taylor. I hate being a part of this stupidity. I—”

“Barrett, relax. It’s okay. Just tell me what I should watch out for,” I said.

“Promise you won’t be mad?” he asked, stopping and turning toward me.

“Spill it, Barrett,” I said, as I stopped walking.

“They figured since your grades were bad, they’d just make sure they stayed that way, so you’d flunk out.”

I crossed my arms. “And you’re supposed to be helping me fail Trig?”

“That’s what they think, but I guess the joke will be on them when you ace your quiz tomorrow.”

“I hope you’re right,” I said, heading again toward the Richards house.

“You know this stuff, Dresden. You’ll be fine.” He skipped forward to catch up with me.

“I guess the fact that I’m a pitcher pisses Tuttle off even more, huh?”

“Doesn’t help.”

“I just gotta know one more thing,” I said.

“What’s that?”

“Why did you decide to go against them and help me?”

He breathed out, looked up at the Richardses’ house, and shook his head. “I don’t know exactly. One day, I looked at you in the gym, and you were trying so hard to look tough and—”

“You pitied me,” I said.

“No, it wasn’t pity,” he said. “I just realized you were a human being, with feelings. There’s something about you, Dresden, that’s . . . that’s got to me, I guess.”

There was a warm glow coming from the dining room window of the Richards house. I wished we had farther to walk so the conversation wouldn’t have to end. I was getting spoiled having someone to talk to the last few nights, not to mention just being able to look at him two hours every night.