Girl at Heart Page 3

  Smooth. We’ve already established that, Charlie. And now he thinks I’m a moron. Why? Why am I such a spaz?

  Jace’s mouth curves up into a crooked smile as though he thinks I’m adorable. It makes me blush. “Yeah.” He chuckles. “I’m asking you to go to a baseball game with me. If you want to.”

  That sounds like a date. An awesome date. Not the usual dinner and a movie. But a casual outing where we can just hang out and watch the game we both love. But, do I want to go on a date with Jace? Why shouldn’t I? Eric doesn’t want to go out with me.

  After a moment’s deliberation, in which Jace patiently waits for me to answer him, I decide why not? Pity invite or not, Jace is nice. It could be fun, and I could use the distraction. “Okay.”

  Jace’s eyebrows fly up in surprise, but he flashes me that killer smile as if I’ve just made his day. “Really?”

  I’m not surprised by his surprise. I know everyone on the team probably thinks I’m the stuck-up rich girl because I don’t talk much and never invite people to do stuff. I’m not stuck up. At least, I don’t think I am. I don’t think I’m better than anyone; I’m just awkward.

  Jace is totally surprised that I said yes. It’s obvious he expected me to say no. But he’s clearly happy with the outcome. I can tell. Maybe it’s not a pity invite after all.

  Something flutters in my stomach. Just a quick flash of pleasure and excitement. I push it down, though, and try to play it cool. “Yeah. I mean, I already go to all the home games. I have season tickets. I usually take one of my friends with me, but if you want to come sometime, they can sit one out.”

  Jace studies me a minute, as if he’s trying to figure out some hidden meaning in my words, but then he nods like he’s solidifying our plans. “Sure. That would be awesome.”

  Oh my gosh, I just planned a date with Jace King. I have a date with Jace King!

  I try to reassure myself that this is a good thing and that I’m not betraying Eric. Just because I’m excited that I got asked out on my first date, and just because I like Jace as a person, doesn’t mean I’m suddenly in love with him and over Eric. And what does it matter? Eric doesn’t love me back. I need to get over him. What better way than going out with Jace? It’s not like Eric will be mad about it. He’ll be happy for me.

  Suddenly, I realize I just made plans with Jace, and I have no idea what to do next. Shyness grips me to the point where it’s crushing my chest. My face catches fire, and I can barely meet Jace’s eyes. I tuck a lock of hair that’s fallen free of my ponytail behind my ear and try to speak. “Um…” My voice shakes, and I have to clear my throat. “Okay, yeah. Great.” Ugh. I sound like an idiot. “Um, do you have a favorite team you’d like to see?”

  Jace gives me a weird look. “Uh. The Pirates?” His lips twitch, and he adds, “Duh.”

  Ugh. Ugh. Ugh. I am a SPAZ! “Right.” If my face gets any hotter, it’s going to melt off. “Of course the Pirates. Um, I meant any opposing team you’d like to see play?”

  He gives me that smile again and sits back in his chair. “Nah. I don’t really care who we’re up against so long as they lose.”

  Good answer. Perfect, actually. I finally crack a smile. Probably the first one of the day. “All right. I’ll text you the schedule for the rest of this home stand, and you can let me know which day works best.”

  Jace pauses. “You already have my number?”

  “Yeah. It’s on the team roster…Captain.”

  I can see the mental facepalm Jace gives himself. “Right. I knew that.” He cringes, and his cheeks turn the slightest shade of pink. It’s really cute, and I smile again. Jace has officially cheered me up.

  Jace and I walk to lunch together where we always sit with each other. Sort of. Kinda. Okay, we’re at opposite ends of the same table with pretty much the entire baseball team and a few random girlfriends and whoever between us. Today, when we split up—him to go sit by Reynolds, and me to sit next to Eric—he gives me this small smile that seems to say we’re sharing a secret. My stomach does that fluttery thing again. “See you at practice,” I mutter before I can blush more.

  His grin turns playful, almost sly. “I look forward to it.”

  It’s all I can do to keep my eyes their normal size. Did he just flirt with me? Guys don’t flirt with me. Ever. What am I supposed to do now? Am I supposed to flirt back? I don’t know how to do that!

  Maybe I don’t keep the surprise off my face as well as I hoped, because Jace chuckles. “I’ll see you later, Hastings.”

  “Bye,” I croak, and hightail it to my end of the table.

  When I sit down between Eric and Diego, they’re talking about prom…again. They both lean forward so they can talk to each other around me. “We have to go somewhere nice,” Eric says.

  “Yeah, but not too nice, rich boy. Kev and I aren’t country club members like you and Hastings.”

  Eric waves off Diego’s concern like it’s nothing. “Don’t sweat it. My dad already paid for the limo. All I have to do is tell my mom he did, and she’ll fork out the money to make sure we go to the nicest restaurant in town.”

  While Eric’s not as rich as me, his parents are both really successful attorneys. He’s not hurting for cash, and his parents love to spend it on him. Mostly because they like to one-up each other. Sure, it bothers Eric that they use him as a pawn in their dysfunctional relationship and both think that caring for their child means throwing money at him, but he has no problem working the system to his advantage.

  “Sweet.” Diego doesn’t hesitate to accept Eric’s offer to pay. He and Kevin have learned over the years to let Eric and me spoil them. I love that they let us and don’t make it weird. They know we’re not trying to throw our money in their faces. Eric and I—and especially my dad—are all generous, and we love being able to do nice things for the people we care about.

  I’ve always felt insecure about being so rich because it makes me different from everyone else around me. Dad could have put me in some pretentious private school with other super wealthy kids, but he comes from a humble background and wanted me to have at least some exposure to how most of the country lives. (Heaven knows I need it, considering my home life is definitely Lifestyles of the Rich and Famous.) Plus, Roosevelt has one of the best athletic programs in the state, so public school it was. And then he talked Eric’s parents into letting him attend, too. They’ll do anything my rich and famous father asks. Especially if it’s about their son, whom they live to brag about and show off like he’s some kind of trophy.

  “Awesome,” Eric says. “I’ll talk to my mom. Where do we want to go?”

  I open my lunch, a little hurt that they’re having this discussion as if I’m not even here.

  As if Eric senses my feelings, he nudges my arm with his elbow. “What do you think, Hastings? Where do you want to go?”

  Diego drops his sandwich and grabs my shoulder. “Whoa, wait. You coming with us, Hastings? Seriously?”

  The guy may be as shocked as Eric was on Saturday that I’d want to come, but I’ll give him this: he grins like he’s excited that I’m joining them. Unfortunately, I’m not going. “I would, but I don’t have a date,” I mumble. “Nobody’s asked me, and I’m pretty sure prom is one of those things you don’t go to by yourself.”

  Diego frowns. “Hmm. That is a pickle.”

  Geez. Does he need to make it sound like it’d be impossible to find me a date? I might be pouting a little as I dig into my lunch.

  “Who can we get to take Charlie?” Diego asks Eric. “She has to come. Charlie in a dress? That I have to see.”

  I frown. “I’ve worn dresses before. At my dad’s award ceremonies and stuff.”

  Diego rolls his eyes. “That was years ago. Now that you’re all…you know…grown up…” He mimes having boobs. “I can’t picture it.”

  I knuckle punch his arm, and Eric reaches behind me and punches his shoulder. “Dude. That’s Charlie you’re thinking of.”

  “OW! Stop
!” Diego punches me back, lighter than I punched him but hard enough. Then he leans across my plate to punch Eric, too. “I was not thinking of Charlie like that. Gross.” He shudders. “I was just saying I can’t picture her looking like a girl.”

  I growl in frustration. “I am a girl. How many times do we have to have this conversation?”

  Kevin, having been shoved when Diego hit Eric, decides to join the conversation. “You’re a girl?” He gasps with mock surprise. “How did I not know this?”

  “Ha, ha. You’re so hilarious.”

  He grins. “I know. What are we talking about?”

  Diego elbows me. “Hastings wants to go to prom.”

  Kevin blinks at me, and I sigh. “Yes. I’d like to go to prom. Is that so wrong?”

  “You wearing a dress, with your hair all done up and stuff? Dancing? Dating?” Kev nods. “Yes. That’s all kinds of wrong.”

  This time when I frown at my lunch, I’m not pouting. I’m genuinely hurt.

  “Don’t sweat it, Hastings,” Eric says. “I’ve got you covered.” He raises his voice and shouts to the whole table, “Hey! Listen up!”

  Everyone shuts up. They’re all shocked that Eric is addressing them. Seriously, he’s worse than me at being social. I’ve never known anyone more in his own world than Eric. I’m just lucky I’m part of that world.

  When Eric has everyone’s attention, he throws his arm around my shoulders. “Hastings here is in need of a prom date. Any of you dateless shmucks desperate enough to volunteer as tribute?”

  I suck in a breath. I know he’s joking, but still. Desperate enough to volunteer as tribute? Like a guy would have to be desperate to want to ask me, and going with me would be akin to surviving the Hunger Games? Jerk!

  My face is on fire again. I’ve never been so insulted, and so humiliated. Eric has no idea what he’s just done. And then, as if that’s not bad enough, there’s a pause while the entire team gets over their shock, but then they all burst into wild laughter.

  I swallow hard and glare at my lap. I hate being the center of attention, and I really hate being the butt of a joke. It happens enough at games because I’m a girl. I don’t need it in my social life, too.

  “Hastings?” somebody cries, laughing hysterically. “At prom? In a dress? Yeah right!”

  Diego elbows me playfully. “Nah. Hastings will probably show up in a tux.”

  Everyone laughs again.

  Nobody offers to be my date to the dance.

  Nobody realizes that I’m upset.

  The laughter dies down, and people go back to their lunches. I put mine away. I’m not hungry anymore.

  . . . . .

  I’m on the brink of tears the rest of the day. I can’t tell my friends I’m upset. They wouldn’t understand. They’d just accuse me of being on my time of the month and tell me to relax. I have no one else to talk to.

  I can’t do this anymore. I’m sick of being the only girl in an all-boy world. I’m sick of being overlooked and laughed at. I’m tired of feeling like a freak or that I can’t let myself feel things. I always have to be strong. I have to try to be like the guys all the time, but I’m so sick and tired of it. I’m not them. But I don’t have any girl friends to hang out with instead.

  When school ends and I have to go to practice, I feel like I’m about to break. My heart is hammering, my eyes are stinging, and I think I’m having a panic attack. I don’t want to go out there. I don’t want to face any of them. I don’t want to be the freak girl on the guy’s team anymore. I want to be normal. A normal girl, who looks nice and hangs out at the mall with her girl friends drinking smoothies and checking out cute boys. Is that so much to ask?

  Instead of heading for the girls’ locker room, I go to the athletic office, hoping to catch Coach Stanton before he heads out to the field. His door is open, but he’s talking to someone, so I sit down on the bench outside the office to wait.

  “Heard back from anyone yet?” Coach asks, his voice easily carrying to the door. I don’t hear any reply before he speaks again. “Try not to be too disappointed. There’s still time left. A lot of places don’t make offers until after the season ends, and there’s still the state finals. There’ll be plenty of eyes on us then.”

  It must be Jace he’s talking to, because they’re talking about scholarships, and like I said, Jace is the only one besides Eric who has a shot at one. Sure enough, Jace mutters, “You mean eyes on Sullivan and Hastings.”

  I’m a little surprised by the tone of his voice. He’s usually not a negative guy, but he almost sounds bitter.

  There’s a long pause. I’m sure he’s getting one of Coach’s famous looks. Coach is really good at those looks that weigh a hundred pounds and say a million words. He isn’t one to let us ever mope or feel sorry for ourselves, either.

  “Sorry,” Jace says, sounding defeated.

  His voice isn’t as easy to hear as Coach’s, but if I listen carefully I can make it out. It’s a total invasion of privacy, but I can’t make myself stop listening.

  “I’m happy for them both,” Jace says. “I know they deserve the attention. It’s just tough to play in their shadows, you know? Sullivan is one of the MLB’s top prospects for this year’s draft. There’s no doubt he’s going pro. And Hastings, well, she gains a whole different kind of attention.”

  I cringe. There has been a lot of media coverage of our team this year with all the rumors of me playing collegiate ball circulating. A lot of people have asked me for interviews. They make a big deal out of me being as good as I am and being a girl. I’ve even had scouts and other various coaches that have come to check out Eric compliment my game. But that’s where it stops for me. They’re looking because I’m a novelty. They aren’t taking me seriously.

  “I’m no Sullivan,” Jace continues. “I know that. I’m not even as good as Hastings. But with them both on the team, it doesn’t matter how many scouts and recruiters come to see us play. They’re only looking at the two stars. The rest of us are just background.”

  My heart sinks for him. He’s probably right. It’s hard enough for me to be playing in Eric’s shadow. I can’t imagine Jace having to play in mine.

  There’s another long pause and then another apology mumbled on a sigh. “I don’t mean to be jealous. I’m just frustrated. I need a scholarship, or I don’t know how I’m going to pay for college. My parents have five kids to take care of on a teacher’s and a firefighter’s salaries. Leila and I are both going to school in the fall. I can’t afford not to get at least a partial scholarship. My grades are good, but not scholarship good. Baseball’s my only shot. Not to mention, I don’t know what I’ll do with myself if my career ends with high school. I can’t imagine not playing anymore.”

  My chest is heaving by the time he’s done with his rant. I’ve never seen Jace lose his composure, but he sounds desperate. Why do I feel like it’s my fault? If I weren’t on the team, would he be getting the attention he deserves? Have I been hurting his chances this year? I shouldn’t even be on this team. It’s pointless. I’m not going to get to play college ball. All I’m doing is hurting Jace’s chances.

  I can’t do this anymore.

  Unable to take it any longer, I stand up and knock on the open door. When they both look up at me expectantly, my throat closes up and my body starts shaking. My panic attack is coming back.

  Jace hops up from his chair across from Coach Stanton’s desk and guides me to it. I’m out of it enough that I simply let him make me sit.

  “Hastings? You okay?” Coach Stanton asks.

  I shake my head in quick, jerky movements. “Sorry to interrupt. Can I talk to you, Coach?”

  The word privately is implied, and both Jace and Coach Stanton pick up on it. Coach gives Jace a look. “We’ll talk more later.”

  Jace nods. His eyes flick to me, face full of concern, but he doesn’t ask what’s wrong. “See you on the field,” he says instead.

  No, you won’t.

  Once Jace
leaves, Coach says, “What’s wrong, Charlie?”

  I close my eyes, trying to hold off tears. Now that I’m face-to-face with Coach, all of my feelings hit me full force.

  “Charlie?”

  “I’m quitting the team,” I blurt out. “I’m sorry, but I can’t do it anymore.”

  Coach’s head rears back in shock, and Jace, who was clearly eavesdropping the same way I was earlier, comes storming back into the office. “WHAT?”

  I flinch at the outburst, and Coach throws Jace a reproachful look. It doesn’t do any good. Jace is in serious freak-out mode. “What do you mean, you’re quitting? You can’t quit. We’re two weeks away from the state finals. We need you.”

  The next look Coach gives Jace has more warning behind it. Jace takes a breath and clamps his mouth shut like he’s afraid he’ll be kicked out of the room, and he really wants to be part of this conversation. He’s not making this any easier.

  “Jace, calm down. Charlie, honey, take a deep breath, and let’s talk about this. What do you mean, you’re quitting? What happened?”

  Coach’s concern has my emotions storming again. He’s a good guy. I’ve really come to respect him over the four years I’ve played for him. The way he cares about all of his players and helps us to be our best is unlike any coach I’ve ever had before him. Even the worst guys on the team are important to him, and he’s constantly pushing us to be better both on and off the field. He deserves better, but I just can’t do two more weeks of this. I’ll crack.

  “I’m sorry.” I clear my throat, but my voice still shakes and cracks several times. “I’ve already made up my mind. You guys don’t need a girl on the team anyway. With me gone, people will stop laughing at us, and the scouts will take you all seriously.”

  Jace grabs fistfuls of his hair and glares at me. “Nobody’s laughed at us since you shut them all up freshman year, and you know it. We need you.”

  Why is he making this so difficult? This will be good for him. “You have Springer. You’ll be fine,” I say, but the argument is weak. Springer sucks.