Heroine(57)

The crowd makes a noise, a collective intake of breath from both sides, an acknowledgment of how damn much that had to hurt. Lydia dashes to where the ball is lying, dead, and tries to make the throw to first, but too late. Carolina is on her knees, face white, teeth gouging into her bottom lip.

“Time,” I call, throwing off my mask and shouting back over my shoulder to the ump as I run to my friend, Coach closing in from the sidelines. We reach her at the same moment, but Carolina waves off help, coming to her feet just as I waver a little on mine, the sprint not doing me any favors.

“Carolina, are—Jesus, Mickey, what the hell happened to you?”

“I’m f—” I try to talk but suddenly there’s too much strength required to force words out from between my teeth. I sit down hard, shin guards buckling and chest protector pushed up into my chin.

“Mickey?”

Carolina has followed me down to the ground, her arm cupped protectively in her glove. There are dots in my vision, and if they were white like snow instead of black this could almost be the night of the crash. Me crumpled, Carolina standing over me, both of us hurt. I clear my throat and spit, wiping a fresh wave of sweat from my brow.

“You okay?” I ask her, strength returning now that I don’t have to stand.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m okay,” she says. “Just some ice, I’ll be fine.”

Lydia and the third baseman get underneath each of my arms and get me to my feet, something the crowd applauds even though they have no idea why I went down in the first place. I make eye contact with Mom and give her a little wave as they escort me into the dugout, where I collapse on the bench, happy for once to see it. I’m surprised when Carolina plops next to me, close enough that our legs touch.

“You’re both done, rest of the game,” Coach says, the brim of her hat almost touching our upturned faces. “I’m not crippling my starting lineup playing Peckinah. Nikki, get this gear on. Brit, you’re pitching.”

Her face lights up, but Nikki is nice enough to apologize as she strips me of my gear, undoing the left leg as I work on the right.

“I got it. You rest,” she says, with an even mix of concern and excitement in her voice.

I let Nikki take my gear, leaning forward so she can pull the chest protector over my head. The helmet is still in the dirt halfway between home and the mound, where I left it. She runs onto the field, the relief pitcher by her side, both of them damn near giddy.

“Shit,” Carolina says, her head sagging to rest on my shoulder, all the friction between us erased by shared misery and embarrassment.

“Yeah,” I agree, closing my eyes. “Shit.”





Chapter Thirty-Six


pretend: to represent falsely; to put forward or offer as true or real something that is untrue or unreal

I won’t hear the end of it if I go home looking anything less than better.

I did a good job of bullshitting Mom in the dugout, telling her I didn’t have enough to eat and hadn’t been feeling so great to begin with—something Carolina actually backed me up on. Our team won the game, but Carolina and I still felt like we’d lost something as we trudged into the locker room together, me clenching everything I’ve got shut, Carolina trying hard to hold her arm naturally, which is almost impossible to do when you’re thinking about it.

I don’t know if my friend believed what she said in the dugout when she told Mom that I had a touch of stomach flu, but I can’t exactly stick around to ask her about it, either. What’s wrong with me needs fixed—now—and there’s only one person who can help me out.

Josie was desperate enough to hand over her car to Jadine in order to score at Edith’s the other night, but seemed fine when I saw her before the game. The only way she had steady enough hands to redo her nails was if she’s got a stash at home. I won’t make it through the night without screaming, and I can’t count on Mom’s faith in me to stand up against that. I head over to Josie’s place, aware of the screws gouging into bone every time I shift gears.

I don’t bother texting first, hoping that somehow the surprise of me showing up unannounced will jolt her into handing over some of her stash, enough to get me through to the weekend, at least. I’ve got no cash, nothing to give her except well-polished words . . . and those aren’t my strong suit. But need is stronger than pride, and I’m knocking on her door before I’ve put together anything close to a convincing argument.

“Hey,” Josie says when she opens the door, looking me up and down in my uniform, the knees permanently dirtied. “What’s up?”

“I need some of whatever you’ve got,” I tell her, squeezing the words off my dry tongue. “Please, Josie, my mom thinks something’s up and if I—”

Josie motions for me to be quiet and steps out onto the porch, closing the front door behind her. “Yeah, well, I don’t need my mom on the same page as yours,” she snaps. “What the hell are you thinking, showing up here?”

Stung, I step back. “You invited me!”

“Not now I didn’t,” she says, through clenched teeth. “How’s it going to look if someone she’s never met before just drops in for a second to get something from me and then leaves?”

“I don’t care,” I say, squeezing my eyes shut, terrified that I’m about to cry.