“Doesn’t make it any less true.” I snatched a soda from the fridge. “I’m going out.”
“Where?”
I exhaled sharply. “Not sure, but I’ll be home by curfew.”
Earlier, I’d decided I wasn’t going to Rowan’s game, but once in my car, I found myself heading toward the high school anyway. Rows of cars filled the parking lot, and I pulled into a spot near the edge. For a moment, I just sat there with my hands on the steering wheel.
What the hell am I doing?
I didn’t like baseball. I didn’t like crowds. And I definitely didn’t want to cross paths with a bunch of Rowan’s teammates and friends who talked shit in the halls. But he’d asked me to come, and apparently that was enough to get me to sit through a game I wasn’t interested in.
I reached into the backseat for my hoodie and pulled it over my head before stepping out of the car.
When I reached the field, the bleachers were half full of students, and parents sat in folding chairs along the fence. I took a seat on the bottom row, giving myself an easy exit if I decided to leave early.
Rowan stood near the dugout with the rest of the team, listening to his coach. His baseball uniform was white with dark blue lettering across the chest. I’d seen him in it before at home after a game, but seeing him wearing it out on the field made it even hotter.
He glanced toward the bleachers, and our eyes met for a split second. His expression shifted to surprise before he caught himself and focused back on the field, but I still noticed the small smile that tugged at the corner of his mouth.
The game began a few minutes later.
He played second base, and the crowd cheered when he turned a double play in the second inning. I tried not to act too impressed, but I probably failed.
About halfway through the game, a group of guys sat down on the bench behind me. I didn’t turn around at first; I just assumed they were more students who came to watch the game.
Then one of them laughed. “Dude, check it out.”
Another voice chimed in. “What?”
“The emo kid from school is here.”
Great.
It wasn’t uncommon for me to get harassed by some of the kids at school. Usually, I ignored the insults and taunts, but sometimes things turned physical. I’d already gotten suspended a few times for fighting, even though I’d only been defending myself.
The last thing I wanted to do was risk getting in trouble again, and having to deal with my parents being pissed, soI rested my elbows on my knees and pretended to be very interested in the game.
“Why the hell is he here?” someone asked.
I clenched my jaw but refused to look back.
“Maybe he likes baseball,” one of them suggested.
That earned a few snickers. “Yeah, right.”
“Maybe he made a wrong turn on the way to Hot Topic.”
More laughter.
“Hey,” another guy said. “Doesn’t he wear eyeliner?”
“Pretty sure. Maybe he thought the cheerleaders would be here and he could get some makeup tips.”
That comment got the biggest reaction.
I slowly turned around.
The three of them all wore varsity jackets, and I recognized one as Rowan’s friend and football teammate, Westly Ridgway.
