Page 62 of Hot Shot

A crack, and Remy hits a blooper into the outfield for a double. Jessa looks so proud, you’d think she did it herself. A few people nearby offer her high-fives, and she takes them gladly.

“That is the wildest thing I’ve ever heard,” Molly says, still gaping at me. But then she laughs. “Wait, his name is Wilder.”

“The man lives up to his name,” I note.

I hear Cricket crying before I see her, and fear hits me square in the chest. I don’t know when I got to my feet, but I’m heading in her direction. Tears roll down her face, and she’s clutching her elbow, which is skinned to all hell.

“Oh, baby—what happened?” I asked, inspecting it.

“I f-f-fell on the s-sidewalk and I…I…” She sniffles, whispering, “Avery pushed m-me,” she says before her voice breaks.

I pull her into my arms, wondering who the fuck’s Avery and what the hell’s her problem. But I try to remind myself Avery is probably only a child, which is like nine-tenths of her problem. I instantly hate the kid anyway.

Cricket has melted into my chest, the worst of it seemingly passed.

“Come on, let’s get you fixed up,” I say, and she pulls away, sniffing and adjusting her glasses. They’re all foggy from tears, so the first thing I do when I sit her down between Jessa and Molly is wipe them off. The women dote on her, and I dig around in the monstrous bag I brought for my little first-aid kit. I started bringing a Mary Poppins bag sophomore year when, at an away game, I not only cut my finger bad enough it wouldn’t stop bleeding, but I ended up soaked from the rain. Thus, The Bag was born. In it is a variety of helpful things—a Turkish towel I can also use as a blanket, an umbrella, my first-aid kit. There’s a little bag of various medicines, tissues, writing utensils, gum. Deodorant. Sunscreen. Snacks, obviously. Most of the time, I never have to use anything I pack, but then things like this happen, leaving me with bone deep satisfaction that I have what I need in a moment of disaster.

Tonight, my relevant addition is the first aid kit.

“Owie,” she whimpers as I dab it with an antiseptic wipe to clean the dirt off a little.

“I know. Almost done. Now, what happened with Avery?”

For a second, she’s quiet. “I don’t like her.”

I frown. “Why?”

“She’s in Ms. Panko’s class and she’s…she’s not very nice.”

“How come?”

“She says mean things,” Cricket starts. “She said Caden has elephant ears and that I look like a mouse. She took my glasses at recess today and I couldn’t see. Caden went and got them fromher, but then he got in trouble because Ms. Panko said he can’t take stuff from girls.”

My lips flatten as I finish putting on a little Neosporin and unfurl a Band-Aid. “What happened today?”

Cricket shakes her head.

“It’s okay, you can tell me.”

She glances up at me through her lashes. “Promise not to tell on her to her mom?”

I stick out my pinky. “Pinky swear.”

She hooks it but doesn’t speak right away. “She called me a crybaby and told me to go cry to my mama. But then she laughed and said I couldn’t ‘cause my mama’s dead.”

The flames of rage stop me dead and consume my brain, crackling so loudly, I can’t hear. When I regain my faculties, I finish bandaging her silently.

“Cass?” she asks, wary.

“It’s okay,” I assure her. “I won’t tell on her.” All I have are unkind thoughts and imaginings of the horrific mean girl her mother must be. Or maybe it’s not that at all. Maybe things are bad at home. Maybe there’s abuse. Something.

Surely no child is born so cruel.

“Listen to me,” I say quietly, staying eye level with her. “Sometimes, people will try and hurt us. And they’ll try and find the thing that hurts the most. We have to learn that what people say doesn’t matter unless we decide it does. She doesn’t know anything about you. She doesn’t have any idea who you are. What she said was cruel, Cricket. And cruel people do not deserve our time or energy. I want you to stay away from her, okay? If she says something mean, roll your eyes and saywhat-ever.” I bob my head like a valley girl, earning me a tiny smile. “They hate that. But if she puts her hands on you again, I’m talking to her mom. She needs to know so she can help Avery understand, just like I’m going to try and help you. Deal?”

She nods.

“Good. Now, you stay here with Jessa and Molly and I’ll go get you a popsicle.”

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