First Base

Chapter 3 �" First Base

 

“So, who’d you f**k tonight?”  I hear Ezra accuse Amanda. And, as much as I want to go to sleep, this is just too interesting.

Crying, I’m sure, Amanda belts, “None of your damn business.” Then there is silence for a while, and then, “No one, no one baby, I love you.” She’s sobbing. Somehow, for some painfully awful reason, I feel sorry for her. I let out a breath, like I’m somehow part of this argument, and now I’m just done with it. I pinch my ears between the mattress and my pillow and eventually sleep finds me.

 

On my way to homeroom today, I’m upset because it’s only Wednesday, and beyond that, I just can’t wrap my mind around Ezra. That look on his face it was intimidating, his icy cobalt eyes prodding into mine like his girlfriend coming home at nearly four in the morning was somehow my fault. Or, maybe he was just mad that I let her in? I don’t know. It’s a sticky situation that I’m not going to put myself in anymore. If his girlfriend wants to go tramping around, go for it, I don’t like her anyways.

In homeroom today, as I’m about to sit in my normal desk, I see someone waving me over behind a large girl with a frilly sweater, and it isn’t until I get around her do I see Miles. He’s a lot smaller than I remember, I note, maybe that’s why I hadn’t ever realized he was in here; Godzilla was hiding him. “Hey, chicka,” he says, he’s wearing a designer caramel colored vest, with a long sleeved white shirt with his sleeves unbuttoned, and the tightest smile.

“Hey,” I grin, and I sit behind him.

“Don’t you look chipper this morning,” he says turning in his seat to look at me. I have the slightest idea of where he got that notion, yet I’m not going to squash it. It’s better than coming off as groggy and sickly looking; like I was sure I was going to look. I only had maybe five hours of sleep under my belt today, and from the look on his face, I don’t think I’m going to be about to take that much needed nap.

“Did you hear about the party this weekend at the plaza?” He says after seconds of silence and awkward staring between us.

Of course I haven’t heard about it, “Nah,” I shrug, not sure that I even want to hear about it. I’m not a socialite.

“Mattie D is buying three kegs; it’s going to be live.” He says with so much enthusiasm the blonde girl with two braids next to us stares, and I let my brown waves of hair fall into my face blocking her from view. “You don’t look excited.” He states the obvious.

“I don’t really party.” I say taking out my note pad and pen from my satchel.

He looks at me oddly, “You don’t like to drink, is what you mean?”

“Nope, I don’t go to parties is what I mean.” I say, though he isn’t exactly incorrect.

“What kind of teenager are you?” he gasps, and I have to hide my smile as I look out the window. I see the football stadium, little dots of people on the field in the distance running back and forth. “Have you ever been to a party?” He asks.

I shrug, “Yeah, in Ohio, but I didn’t really like it.” I say, thinking of the one party in particular that I got the phone call; the one that changed my life forever, and I sigh.

“Okay, I see the problem now. We party much differently down here.” He says matter-of-factly, and I look at him with assessing eyes. Parties are about sex, drinking, and drugs; I’m sure it’s the same everywhere. “Have you ever seen a ten foot fire or danced on a tailgate to some bad rap music?” He asks.

“Of course not, I’m not some hillbilly missing four teeth with a limp,” I say it before I process it, and he laughs a long drawn out laugh. “What?” I say. Before he can answer Mr. Dane coughs his long three coughs, and class is in session.

 

I hear a few people talking about the party in Math class with the red-haired kid, who I came to find out is indeed The Mattie D. Myra is one of the people deep in discussion talking about getting the girls from the drama club to come, because apparently they are sexy as f**k. Someone is also bringing their father’s moonshine, which is illegal booze, and I’m still not sold.

“Are you going to come to the party new girl?” Mattie asks me whenever I glance over to Myra about to ask her if I can borrow a pencil.

I stutter at first, “Uh, uh,” then swallow, “It’s not really my thing.” I try.

“What?” Mattie asks, looking me up and down, and I feel especially uncomfortable. I should have worn an undershirt. I think he’s looking at my bra through my white polo. I fold my arms blocking his view mechanically. “The party, at the plaza, with the alcohol, and the dancing,” he tries, “I bet you look good in a bikini.” The boy in front of him grins while Mattie is flexing his eyebrows up and down. Then, Myra and I share a look of disgust.

 

It’s on and on about the party in each period, and it’s even worse at lunch. Miles is so animated about it; Sally hasn’t even gotten a word in since she sat down. I can see it in her eyes, how irritated she is, but in all honesty, it’s about time she sees how it feels. “I heard that they are going to high a DJ.” Miles says picking at his roll. “I hope they get that one that performed at Nina’s birthday party last year, he was dope.” He takes a breather.

“I think he moved to Dallas.” Myra says slicking her puffs of brown hair backwards, forming a bun.

“He only played dub anyways.” Sally says, obviously bemused about Miles’ suggestion. “I hope they find someone that likes Green Day.”

“Green Day?” Miles purses his lips. “It’s all about the dub, baby.” He seems to dance along to some music in his mind, and I look away �" for some escape. Maybe, I should go back to sitting with booger-boy and the hunch back. At least they don’t talk as much, and it isn’t like they’re going to force me into going to some party.

“Are you going to go?” Sally finally asks, and I shake my head, no.

“She thinks we’re a bunch of hillbillies and cousin-fuckers.” Miles says flatly.

“I do not.” I interject whenever the other two at the table look at me amazed. “I just said I don’t want to go. I’m not interested. That’s it.” And, I gather my things and my tray and hurry away. I can feel their eyes on my back when I do, and I think I hear Miles call me a square.

I sit in the hallway for the rest of lunch period, waiting on the first bell to dismiss me to sixth period. I still haven’t heard anything about switching out of P.E., so I’m just going to show up thinking that I’m still in that class. Because, who is Caleb anyways? How do I know he has the power to switch me from P.E. to track? I don’t, that’s right, and I’m not going to go about thinking that he can. I’ll just go to my fate each day, getting in the face with ball after ball; maybe I’ll ask my mom to write me a note to get out of baseball. I couldn’t imagine being nailed with one of those.

“Hey,” his voice is almost musical in the hallway as I turn to look at Ezra. His hair is combed neatly to the side, and he’s wearing a formal suit without the tie.

“What’s up?” I answer, already knowing why he must be here, he probably got the job.

He sits next to me on the bench, “Just finalizing some paper work; dotting the I’s, crossing the T’s.” And, it’s awkward like the traces of last night are burning between us. But, I couldn’t imagine asking not here �" not ever. I already decided to butt out of that situation. “I start Monday.” He looks over to me, with those intense eyes again, and I look away automatically.

“That’s good. It’s going to be a big difference for you, you think?” I ask, trying my best to be good at small talk.

He shrugs, “You have to grow up sometime.”

 

You have to grow up sometime. His words haunt me all the way to 6^th period, and to my surprise the coach calls me over and he hands me a sheet of paper that says: Report to the office during 6^th period for schedule change. Maybe, he did come through for me.

So, now instead of being pelted with balls, I get to read and study in the library, peacefully without any tension or worry that I’m going to get a black eye. I finish up my homework, and then I wait for the bell to ring. When, it does, to my surprise he is waiting outside for me. “Didn’t I tell you I would get your out of gym?” He says, like he knew that I doubted him.

I smile, “Yes,” and we’re walking side by side down the hallway towards my sixth period. “What time do I have to meet you after school?” I ask, figuring that’s why he’s here, it couldn’t possibly be just because he wanted to see me.

“Right after school, in the gym, then we’ll walk out to the track with the other girls. We have a few things to go over before we head out there.” He says, and I nod. “Just about certain rules, uniform, all that kind of information,” he continues, looking ahead, and I notice his lips seem much fuller from the side.

“Okay, Caleb,” I say, and then he turns to me, and we both stop in the hallway. It’s almost deserted besides one kid in a hoodie with his headphones on obviously not paying attention.

“It’s Coach Patterson now.” He smiles, flashing those pearly whites and he leaves me with that. The final bell rings, and I’m late.

 

I arrive in the gym as quickly as I can; I think my libido needs some grooming because all I could think about through art was Caleb, his full lips and his perfect teeth… in fact the teacher had to walk across the class room, stand in front of the window I was daydreaming out of, while the other kids chuckled, to get my attention. I was embarrassed to say the least.

 “Ms. Sanders, how punctual of you,” I smile walking across the gymnasium to the far set of bleachers closest to the locker rooms. He gestures for me to sit in front of him, and I do. He’s wearing his basketballs shorts and today a white tank top and I can see his pecks plainly through it. I force my eyes to stay on his, and not roam his manly exterior.

“Okay, well here are the basics. We aren’t state champions or even regional champions; we’re just here for fun mostly. But, we do have to compete �" no pressure.” Yeah, right, speak for yourself. “Anyways, this is your uniform; I figured you were a small in the waist, medium in the chest, correct?” He flings a gray tank top and maroon shorts onto my lap, and I nod. They look about right. “Go get changed up, and meet me back here.”

I hurry passed him, and into the women’s locker room, and I begin to change whenever I hear the door open again, “I forgot to give you,” and I’m only in my bra and underwear whenever he appears, I’m owlish and he turns around quickly, “I’m sorry.” He says, “Here, it’s your locker key… I thought,” He says, holding the key behind him awkwardly, as if he’s hugging himself, and I snatch the gray shirt from the bench and put it on before I take the key from him. My heart is in my throat as he hurries out of the locker room.

“What the f**k,” I mutter to myself as the door shuts behind him, and I slouch onto the bench. I tug on the shorts (which are shorter than I ever thought they would be) and I look at myself in the mirror. I’m so red, so I hurry over to the sink and splash water in my face, because in all honesty, that was so embarrassing and a bit enthralling. I pull my wavy brown hair into a bun, and breathe in and out, inhale and exhale.

I calm down before I exit the girls’ locker room, and I find him just outside, leaning into the wall staring at his Nike’s. The gym is filled with freshman basketball players, and we both walk left towards the glass double doors towards the outside track. It isn’t until we’re outside does he even looks at me, and when I look back, he looks away. “I wasn’t thinking.” He says quietly squinting into the distance. The track is at least a football field away I note as we trek down a hill towards a cement pathway.

“Don’t worry about it,” I say, because in all honesty it’s not like I didn’t slightly enjoy it.

“Should I be?” He asks, to my surprise, and then I remember, he is supposed to be my coach.

I look at him as we reach the cement sidewalk, “I’m not going to tell anyone, if that’s what you’re implying.” I try my best not to steer my eyes away until he meets my gaze, and when he does, I want to melt. He looks like that mischievous boy with a naughty secret as he smirks at me. “Just don’t let it happen again.” I cut my eyes away, trying to stay classy.

“Yes, mam,” he says and we’re nearing the field.

 

“This is Penny Sanders, she’s new,” he says to his all over three other track members; one of which is the hunchback. She’s sitting alone on the bench, while the other two are sharing a towel with dreads and too many piercings between them to count. I can see why he offered me a spot on his team now. “Let’s get started on some stretches,” and they head towards the tar-track and I follow them. We stand about a yard apart from each other, and I sit down and begin to stretch my hands to my feet. He’s walking around us, but his eyes never seem to leave me.

Whenever I finally stand, he’s behind me and I’m leaning over stretching right whenever I feel soft warm hands on my thigh, “move out a little bit more.” He says, and he pushes against my leg and I do. I can get used to this.

Whenever we start running, he runs with us and I’m little bit faster than the other girls. The two with the dreads are Lily and Fran, and the hunchback is Morgan. Morgan seems to wobble way behind us, Lily and Fran are almost walking, and I’m jogging like he suggested. I’m half way around the track whenever he catches up to me, and we’re running in place. “First day, and you’re already better than the others.” He says, and I don’t bother looking around because I know we’re too far away for anyone to hear.

“I’m an overachiever.” I say.

He grins, and we’re jogging along for a while. “I really wanted to apologize though. For back there, I wasn’t thinking.” Does he really want to talk about this again?

I shrug, shaking my head, like it’s no big deal, “It’s fine,” I look from ahead of me, back to him, and then over my shoulder to the other’s. They are still so far from earshot. “All of my teachers see me naked.” I dare to say, because I have this overwhelming over confidence around him now. Maybe it’s because I have something over him.

He laughs, looking at me sideways, “That’s good to know. How many of those teachers get to first base?” And, that question throws me for a loop �" literally, I trip over myself, dumbfounded, and I’m on the rubber track panting. He stops a few feet ahead of me, maybe because he wasn’t expecting that or maybe he didn’t want to seem like he was having an interesting conversation with me.

I’m up before he comes over to help me up, and I swipe the dirt off my behind. “What?” I say, and we’re jogging again.

“Nothing,” he says, looking forwards, and I look over my shoulder; Lily and Fran are too close to be talking about anything besides school or sports.

 

We run for an hour more, before he releases us. My legs are barking at me to sit down, but I force myself up the cement pathway far behind Morgan or the rest of the girls surprisingly. He’s pacing behind me whenever I stop to take a breath. “The first day is always the worst.” He says, patting my back, but it is so tension filled I have to grit my teeth. I have never felt like this before, like I needed something so badly.

“When do we meet again?” I ask.

He turns around, still walking, “Friday; it’s 3 day thing; Monday, Wednesday, Friday.” I start walking to catch up with him, and we I do we’re walking in cohesion. I see Morgan disappear behind the glass doors in the distance and it’s nearly dark outside. I’m almost expecting him to say something else; something humorous or inviting, but we’re just walking along.

Whenever we reach the doors he opens it for me, and I head to the girls locker room. The other girls have already left, and I’m alone. I change quickly, half-expecting him to walk in, but he doesn’t. Whenever I exit, he isn’t waiting outside for me, and my shoulders drop hopelessly.

 

The next day at lunch I’m thankful that they eased up on the Mattie-D-Party talk. Sally talks about what happened to her in Spanish, which was nothing of importance to me, yet every time she turned to me for some kind of gesture, I nod and say something like, “Yeah,” or “Totally,” and it totally sells. Miles looks almost bored to death as he listens, and whenever she looks from us, he mocks her.

“So, what are you going to do this weekend if not go out with us?” Miles finally asks, I knew he couldn’t go all day without saying something.

I shrug, “I haven’t given it any thought.”

“What did you do in Ohio on weekends if not go to parties?” Sally asks. We’re walking down the hall towards our 6^th periods, which all just so happen to be in the same way now that I’m no longer in gym.

“Hung out with friends,” I say, not really wanting to think back to Ohio. I had lost most of my friends by the time I moved. I wasn’t really up to do anything fun. I was depressed to say the least, and now, now I feel almost giddy. And, I know the source of it. Caleb Patterson.

 

Whenever the final bell rings, I head out to my car, and I open up the door to see a small pink & black bag… Victoria’s Secret. I pull the powder pink paper from the top, and I pull out a lacey gold bra and panty set. I find a letter at the bottom, and to my surprise, because in all honesty I was thinking that this was a mistake, and I open it. It reads:

I can’t wait to see you tomorrow.

-      C

Like any love-struck teen I press the letter to my chest, and grin at the bra and undies like it’s a gift from God. I put all of the stuff into the passenger seat and hurry home.