One of Us Is Next(56)
The door opens, and a guy my age walks in. I squint until I place him—it’s Intense Guy from a few weeks ago. The one who came looking for Phoebe until Manny and Luis scared him off. I glance at the counter, but nobody’s there. This time, the guy doesn’t stride forward but drops into a corner table and slouches low in the seat. Ahmed, one of the servers, heads over to bring him water. They speak briefly, but nothing about the conversation seems to raise red flags for Ahmed, who leaves the table with his usual pleasant but preoccupied expression.
Intense Guy puts his head down when Manny makes a brief appearance at the counter, but otherwise he scans the room like he’s watching a movie. Ahmed brings him a cup of coffee, and the guy just keeps sitting and staring without drinking it. I’m glad now that Phoebe’s not working, because I have the feeling he’s looking for her again.
Why? Who the hell is this guy? Emma’s ex Derek, maybe? I’ve already forgotten his last name. I grab my phone and pull up Instagram, but it’s pointless—there are millions of Dereks.
After about fifteen minutes of me watching Intense-Guy-slash-Maybe-Derek watch the room—which is just as riveting as it sounds—the guy tosses a bill on the table and takes off without ever having touched his coffee. I’m left with the same vague, uneasy feeling I had in my parents’ kitchen earlier.
I’m missing something.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Maeve
Thursday, March 19
Cooper tenses, winds up, and hurls a blistering fastball across home plate. The opposing batter looks like he’s swatting at a fly when he misses, and the entire stadium erupts into cheers. The batter, down on strikes, hurls his bat toward the dugout in frustration and stalks away.
“Poor sport,” Kris murmurs beside me, putting out an arm so Cooper’s grandmother, seated on his other side, can lean against him while she gets to her feet for a standing ovation. She does it every time Cooper strikes somebody out, which has been a lot this game. It’s the cutest thing I’ve ever seen.
We’re at Goodwin Field at Cal State Fullerton on Thursday night, part of a capacity crowd watching Cooper pitch against UCLA. The stadium seating is like a horseshoe around the field, and we’re almost directly behind home plate in a section that’s full of Bayview High students, past and present. I got a ride here with Addy, who corralled Nate as soon as he showed up and is forcing him to be social. I think I caught a glimpse of Luis sitting with a bunch of Cooper’s ex-teammates, but I looked away before I could be sure. After two weeks of total silence, I don’t even know what I’d say if I ran into him tonight.
My phone buzzes in my hand. I expect a text from Bronwyn, who’s been checking in on Cooper throughout the game, but it’s just my mom asking what time I’ll be home. I still can’t get used to how quiet my phone is ever since I disabled the PingMe alerts. I’m glad I listened to Phoebe about that, especially since the Truth or Dare game ended on its own. I’d like to think whoever did it stopped out of respect for the fact that Bayview High is mourning Brandon, but it’s more likely they just realized they’d lost everyone’s attention.
Every once in a while I still wonder who was behind it all, and whether they had a personal grudge against Phoebe, Knox, and me. But I guess that doesn’t matter. My real problem is that I haven’t figured out how to make things up to Knox. Now that I’ve managed to alienate both him and Luis, my social circle has shrunk once again to Bronwyn’s friends.
Well, and Phoebe. At least she’s still speaking to me.
Cooper throws one of his infamous sliders, and the UCLA batter just stands there looking confused while it’s called a strike. “You might as well sit down right now, young man,” Cooper’s grandmother calls. “You’re already out.”
My mood lifts a little as I lean toward Kris. “Nonny heckling batters might be my favorite thing ever.”
He smiles. “Same. Never gets old.”
“Do you think Cooper will go to the majors next year?” I ask.
“Not sure.” Kris looks extra-cute in a green polo that brings out his eyes, his dark hair full of golden glints from sitting in so many baseball stadiums. “He’s really torn. He loves being at school, and the team has been great. Not just about baseball, but—everything.” Kris gestures wryly to himself. “The majors, on the other hand, still aren’t particularly welcoming to gay players. It’d be a tough transition, especially with all the added pressure. But the reality is, his game won’t advance the way it needs to if he stays at the college level much longer.”
I watch Cooper on the mound, disconcerted by how impossible it is to recognize him from this distance. With his hat pulled low over his face, he could be anyone. “How do you make that choice?” I ask, almost to myself. “Between what you need and what you want?” I feel like my sister’s going through her own version of that.
Kris’s eyes are on Cooper, too. “You hope they become the same thing, I guess.”
“What if they don’t?”
“I have no idea.” Kris sucks in a breath as the batter makes contact with Cooper’s next pitch, but it’s a harmless grounder that the shortstop fields easily. “The Padres keep checking in,” he adds. “They really want him, and they have a high draft position this year.”