“You gonna join us for the charity softball tournament next month, E?” asked TJ. “It’s our last one of the year, and we could certainly use you.”
Quirking an eyebrow, she snorted. “How do you know I’d be any good?”
“Looked ya up,” he said with a grin. “You were quite the pitcher in your high school days.”
She rolled her eyes. “That was twenty-two years ago. Haven’t picked up a ball or a bat in all that time. I could really suck.”
“Nah. It’s like riding a bike. You never forget. Pitch to us a few days before for batting practice and it’ll all come back to you.” He shrugged. “Even if it doesn’t, you’re new. You’ll be a good distraction.”
“Umm, we’re sitting right here. We’ve met her. She’s not new,” Crash pointed out.
“Yeah, but you’ve never seen her on the field,” TJ replied. “She’ll be like a secret weapon. So secret, she’s right out in the open, and you’ll never know what’s coming. I mean, it’s not like the fire station can beat us without cheating anyway.”
“We cheat?” Crash asked. “I think you better look in the mirror, Rock.”
Elyxandre laughed at their trash-talking. Eventually, Quint whistled high and loud to get everyone to quit yelling at each other, even if it was friendly.
“Ignore all these knuckleheads, E. Seriously. Both sides would love to have you play.”
Warmth spread through her from the kind gesture. “I’ll think about it, okay? We’ve got a lot going on with homecoming. Speaking of which, the student council vice president is looking for a couple of flag football referees for Wednesday’s activities. Can’t find anyone up to the task. Any of you willing to give it a whirl?”
Crash volunteered. “I’m in. Penelope?”
The woman gave a nod. “Why not? We’ll bring the guys on call, bring the truck. Should be fun.”
“Thanks. I appreciate the helping hands. Between the job and then all the activities, my days are forever long, and now, on top of that, my air-conditioning conked out. I hated turning him down when he asked me, but there just aren’t enough hours in the day.”
Quint looked at her questioningly. “Didn’t you just buy that place?”
“Yep.”
Crash added, “Didn’t you just have a major leak you were fixing? I swore you were talking about that at the barbecue.”
“Yep.”
“Sounds like you had a really shitty inspector.”
“I suppose. I mean, it’s not a new house, and the roof, as well as the air-conditioning, hadn’t been replaced in a while. Just bad timing.”
“Anything else goes wrong with that place,” Quint said, “I’d be contacting that inspector and working to get that fee back.”
“We’ll see. It’s more the inconvenience of it, although I wish I weren’t spending the extra money. Anyway, once we get through homecoming, and then I get that repaired, I’ll think about the softball game. No promises though.”
Despite the depressing topic of home repairs, it felt good to be doing something social again, even if it was in a work setting. Baby steps to building real friendships outside of work. Hopefully.
A-RAIDING WE WILL GO
ELYXANDRE
What she foundwhen she arrived at school this morning made her blood pressure spike. It was the start of homecoming week, and she probably should have been prepared for the annual “raiding” party, but somehow it had slipped her mind. The trees in front of the building were flocked in toilet paper, and the windows were heavily painted with washable markers.
But when she got closer, she saw it wasn’t just the windows that had been painted. In bright-red spray paint, the phrases “Seniors Rule! Freshmen Drool!” were front and center on the theatre load-in door. Not washable. The door would need to be repainted, and even then, it might not keep the red paint from showing underneath.
She did a quick canvass of the grounds around the building, noting other acts of vandalism. Picnic tables and bike stands overturned. Official road signs spray-painted over, as well as more doors.
Her brow furrowed. Something here wasn’t right. Toilet-papering and window-painting aside, something nagged at the back of her mind.
As she came around to the front entrance, she ran into two custodians attempting to pull the toilet paper out of the trees with long poles as they spoke with Lucas, an insulated coffee tumbler in hand, who’d clearly just arrived. His son, Ezra, was just entering the building, likely for morning weight lifting with the football team.
