Page 40 of Paper Hearts

“Okay.” Arya and I find a spot up high in the bleachers to see the field. A couple of rows in front of us I spot Kamila wearing a black hoodie with the name James and the number twenty-two filling out the back. She’s wearing his hoodie and her dark hair cascades over the numbers, but I still know whose shirt that is. With thicker hips and a busty chest, she has the attention she wants from most of the boys in the stands, but her eyes remain on Ender.

“And she’s still a slut,” Arya notes, kicking her legs up on the bench in front of us.

“Are they together again?” I ask, gesturing toward Ender with a tip of my head.

“God no. She stole his hoodie and won’t give it back. He hates her. She got him inso muchtrouble right before Christmas.”

I remember talking to Ender on the phone, but he didn’t say what happened that got him grounded. “What did she do?”

“She posted a Snap Chat of them smoking weed but sent it to a bunch of guys on his travel team. He got suspended for drug use.”

Heat rushes to my cheeks. “Oh crap.”

“Yeah, Dad called him a loser to his face.”

“Really?” I gasp. “Why would he say that?”

“Because he knows he’s not supposed to be doing drugs and keeps doing it.” She grasps my forearm, her eyes wide. “But that’s not even the worst part. Dad and him got in this huge argument. Ender punched him, and Dad took his truck away. It was a mess.”

“Wow.” I know Ender and Theo do not see eye to eye, but I didn’t realize it was this bad.

Kamila is whistling, calling out Ender’s number when the game starts.

“Does she realize how stupid she sounds?” I grumble, curling into my hoodie sleeves and cringing at Kamila’s pathetic display. I bet she doesn’t even know what position he’s playing or that Roman’s has a 3-0 count on that batter and he swung at an outside curve ball.

I watch Ender rock to the side as he waits for the pitch, his weight properly distributed for an inside pitch.

God, he’s so sexy. I hope he keeps that catchers gear on after the game.

“Dipshits,” Arya grumbles beneath her breath. She pulls out her ChapStick from her pocket, twisting off the cap to make two passes over her bottom lip before stuffing it away. Her eyes are on Roman as he kicks dirt off the mound.

“What’s with you and Roman?” I ask, nudging her with my elbow and yanking at the sleeves of my hoodie to cover my hands. “Anything new?”

I let my gaze travel from Arya to the field and Ender. He’s crouched down behind the plate, his eyes set on the coach in the dugout. He gets the pitch call and then signs to Roman on the mound. Sweeping his hand behind his back, he rocks to the side to set for the pitch. I can’t take my eyes off him in that damn gear.

Arya rolls her eyes, acknowledging my question. “Nothing is with us.”

“That’s a lie. You seem pretty interested in his mitt.”

“Mitt?” She lets out a sarcastic chuckle.

“You ain’t fooling me.”

“He kissed me last week at a party,” she admits casually, but then I watch as her face contorts into confusion. “We made out until he stopped it. But hasn’t said anything since.”

“I know the feeling.” And though I don’t say who, Arya knows me. I don’t hear from Ender much, if ever. I know each time we leave the lake, I’m summer, but I’ll never have his fall.

“He talks about you, Hads.” She glances over at me. “He does. And he’s definitely not seeing Kamila anymore.”

I frown, knowing she’s trying to make me feel better, but it’s one of the tones that leads into a letdown of the worst kind. It’s the conversation that started withI don’t think it’s spread, but you have cancer. Clearly this isn’t as significant as something like that, but still, the heavy sigh and comforting eyes tells me what she doesn’t say. It’s in her body language, the nonchalant attitude, and the deep, weighted sighs.

I try to play it off, act like I don’t care so much with randomly changing conversations, leaning back to appear comfortable, but I’m not fooling anyone, especially Arya.

The sun sets, night creeps in with the burst of the lights surrounding the field. Reflected from the white lights, Ender’s face mask tipped up shadows his eyes enough I can’t see his expression when he comes into the dugout.

Moments later, he appears and stands to the right of the batter approaching the plate. He’s in the hole and I’m hoping I get to see his face, but he turns away. His stance and the way he arches his back with the bat over his head has me staring at his body, wishing I was next to him again.

“He’s been playin’ good this year,” Arya mumbles, picking at the popcorn she bought from the concession stand a few minutes ago and ignoring Walker as he spits a mouthful of seeds in her direction. He isn’t playing tonight, suspended over drug use, and is instead sitting one row up tormenting Arya.

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