Stupid Girl(94)

I couldn’t afford him to.

I yanked my beanie down further over my forehead and picked up the pace. I liked how the jolt of my feet against the pavement sent a shockwave through the muscles in my legs, made my lungs burn, and I ran faster still. Rounding the corner I hit the sidewalk and straightaway toward the sports complex. People passed by, recognized me, blew their horns. Yelled out the windows. I ignored them all. None of them really knew me. Only liked the thought of me, what they believed me to be.

When I reached the cages, Cory was parked, leaning against the door of his Camaro.

“Bout time you got here, douchebag.” He shouldered his pack. “You see her?”

I bent at the waist, hands resting on my knees, catching my breath. “Yeah. Said a horse threw her.”

“Is that it?” He started toward the entry, and I followed.

“No. She told me she wasn’t mine to be concerned about anymore.”

“Man, you should just tell her.” Cory stopped at the door. “Stop fuckin’ around and just tell her. We’ll figure things—ugh, Christ!”

Cory grunted as I grabbed him by the shirt, slung him away from the door and shoved him against the brick wall. I pushed my face close to his. “You know I fuckin’ can’t. That means you can’t either.” I shoved him again, hard, and stormed through the doors.

The minute I hit the entryway, old Henry looked up. He didn’t move; barely changed facial expressions. But he knew I was pissed.

“Take it easy on my cages, boy,” he said as I passed by. “You got hellfire in those crazy eyes of yours today.”

I said nothing as I pushed out into the walkway, stepped into a booth, and grabbed a bat. Slinging my beanie off, I yanked a helmet over my head and slammed my fist against the start button on the wall. Squared up to the plate. Waited for the pitch. It came, firing out of the pitching machine at ninety-eight mph, and I swung the hell out of the bat. The familiar slam with the baseball sent vibrations shooting up my arm. I crouched, swung, hit. Over and over, I didn’t miss a pitch. Just kept swinging as hard as I could.

“We need that arm you’re rippin’ on,” Cory said behind me. “Take it easy, man. You pitch tomorrow.”

Anger fueled my swings. I could care fuckin’ less about that damn game. Again. Again. The harder I hit, the better I felt, and I swung until the machine quit pitching and I ran out of breath. I dropped the bat and flung off my helmet, squatted and held my head in my hands. Cory stayed behind me, silent. Finally, I rose and stared out across the pitching bay. “This is more than some dumbass college dare, Cory.” I wiped my forehead against my shoulder and looked at probably the only real friend I had. “More than her tires being snaked, and more than some goddamn insulting graffiti. It could fuck up her life, man.” I shook my head, spit, looked at him again. “I can’t let it go.”

Cory looked at me, then away, then back at me. “Son, you’ve got to make a choice. Either talk to the girl and tell her everything—which would be they way I’d go. A girl like that doesn’t come around often.” He rubbed his jaw then shrugged. “Or let it the fuck go.”

I stared off, beyond the pitching bay. I hadn’t known the full depth of what’d happened to Gracie before that night. What that prick fuck Evans had done to her, and the shit senior year that’d followed. And when I left Gracie that morning, I hadn’t truly known what a psychotic bastard Evans’ father was, either. But I damn sure found out.

Thinking about it now smoked a hole in me so deep I felt like I was going to fucking explode. But I was crammed in a corner where Gracie would suffer more if I pushed the issue. If I tried to change things. Jesus fuck, how did this all get so goddamned turned around? Dammit to hell.

I looked at Cory, bent down, grabbed my beanie, and pulled it on my head. “Guess I’ll just let it the fuck go.”





October dragged by. Humanities class was a test of endurance since Kelsy sat in front of me, and Brax off to the side in the back. I was acutely aware of Brax, though, and my concentration during lecture just pure out sucked. Thank God it was the only class I had with either. Blessedly, both had left me alone. Some twisted, in love part of me, though, wished every day Brax would just pop up out of nowhere, have a reasonable and forgivable explanation for what he did, and we could resume our relationship. I missed him. Really and truly missed him. I couldn’t help it.

He’d changed, too. At least, from what I’d noticed. Before he’d been rowdy, full of life, endearingly rude. If that made sense. Now, even several rows over and forward, I could sense his anger. He was like a big pot of molten metal, ready to boil over at any given moment. It’d only take a toe to push it over. A slight shove. And I had no idea why.