Page 37 of Game On

When I turn back to the table, Shawn and Matt are squirming. Matt’s the first one to say, “I’ve got like five dollars on me. That’s it.”

I pinch the bridge of my nose. They didn’t do this to us. They did it to me. “Don’t worry,” I tell them. “I got it.” I pull out the credit card I’m allowed to use in emergencies and take it up to the counter. The Ballers can think they’re fucking me over. The truth is, they really are. I don’t get an allowance. My dad always says if I want money, I have to work for it. I have picked up jobs here and there, but it’s hard to do when I have to quit once basketball season starts. I refuse to let a job interfere with that, so mostly I just ask my parents for money when I want to do something like every other kid in America. My only saving grace for this charge might be if I use the Ballers as an excuse.

When I return with the copy of the receipt, I take a picture and send a text to my dad that I paid for the Ballers dinner. His response:Glad you’re having fun, Honey.

I roll my eyes.Yeah, I wouldn’t call it fun.

“Thanks, Tessa,” Shawn mutters. “I had no idea they were going to do that.”

“None of us did,” I said. It’s not even buying the Baller’s food that makes me angry. It’s buying the girls’ food when neither one of them look at me, and if they do, it’s to give me a look like I’m a dirty whore when they’re the ones who are always hanging off the guys.

I put everything back in my purse and then head out across the street with Shawn and Matt. While we were inside the diner, Preston started to get busy with cars heading toward the game. We end up finding the Ballers in the away team’s side. Before we sit behind them, though, Sloan stops me. “Tessa, why don’t you be a doll and ask if they need a water girl?”

My hands clench to fists. I want to shove a water bottle up his ass. Shawn and Matt go to get up with me, but Lake says, “No, no. Not you guys. Just her.”

The acting as a team thing must have been all talk. They’re actively trying to split us up.

I turn and make my way down the outdoor bleachers. With a quick swallow, I step around the dugout. In Preston, there’s an actual dugout lined in wood, so you can’t see the players until they come out onto the field to play. The coach of RHS’s basketball team is standing right there, flipping through sheets on a clipboard. “Coach,” I call out, my tongue thick. I really wouldn’t mind being the water girl, it just pisses me off that I was singled out. I look to my left. The nice part about this is that I get a way better view from in here.

He looks up. “Yes?”

“Do you need help handing out water and keeping the bottles filled?”

Coach looks around like he can’t believe I’m bothering him with this. These games may not count, but it’s obvious they take the summer season seriously. If they win tonight, they’ll even go to this quarter season’s playoffs. If they lose, it’s the end of the road for them. And I’m standing here asking him about water.

A few of the guys in the dugout appraise me. From the opposite, Alec looks up from inspecting his bat. He sees me gesturing toward the water bottles, so he stands and walks over. “I’ll show her what to do, Coach.”

Coach just walks away, shaking his head.

My face is flaming. I can’t believe those assholes are making me do this. “Bastards,” I mutter under my breath.

Alec hears me, but thankfully, he pretends not to. He points to two caddies filled with water. “Make sure everyone who comes off the field gets offered one of these. When one gets low, there’s a cooler over there.” He points to the opposite end of the dugout where he just was. I nod once, telling him I understand. “You can sit right here,” he says, backing me up until I hit the bench. It’s the spot furthest away from everyone else. He bends over me, and I immediately stiffen. I don’t know if he’s going to say something or if I even want him to say something. He doesn’t. He just stands back up and heads over to the opposite end of the dugout again while I try to catch my breath.

Being the water girl isn’t that bad of a job at all. I was right in that the view of the game is the best from here. I’m so close I can hear what the Coach tells the players. I even hear the banter between the guys, which reminds me of being on an actual team. I’m fired up through most of it, making sure I offer the water bottle to every guy coming off the field. When they charge back in from being on defense, I just hold both caddies up, and they take swigs before dropping them back down again. Actually, most of the baseball players are nice. Not one of them gives me shit for being the water girl, and I even get a few, “Thanks.”

Alec, however, is serious through the whole game. He doesn’t even look at me when he gets off the field after batting. He’s been on base twice and struck out once. There’s one inning left, and RHS is down by two runs. From what I hear in the dugout, they’ve been playing from behind this whole season. Coach is telling them that if they really want it bad enough, they need to get their asses in gear and play like they want to win.

I’m leaning forward in my seat. We’re the last ones up, so it will come down to the bottom of the inning. When Preston goes up to bat in the top of the inning, they don’t score, which is a good thing for us. We already have to come back from a deficit, we don’t need to make it an even larger one. By the time the first batter goes up for RHS, my stomach is tumbling over with nerves. I want so badly for Alec and his team to win this game. I can tell they’re trying. They’re shouting words of encouragement to one another, and I can’t help but get into it myself. Unfortunately, the first batter goes up and is called out on strikes. However, the next player in the line-up hits a single toward the shortstop who botches the catch, so we have one person on base. The run to tie the game is now stepping up to the plate. At that moment, I decide it’s more nerve-wracking to be watching a game you have no control over than it is to be in the position yourself. At least when I’m out on the court and it’s a tight game, I can try my best to win it. Now, I’m completely useless. All I can do is cheer and keep my fingers crossed.

The next batter gets two strikes right in a row. My stomach plummets. But the next pitch he hits goes into the outfield…and drops. I stand up screaming along with the rest of the guys. The player on first makes it to third and the batter makes it to second before the center fielder can throw the ball back into play.

Holy shit. Alec is up next. I hold a breath in my chest as he saunters up to home plate. There’s one strikeout left. How can it be that this whole game now rests on Alec’s shoulders? Shit. Maybe baseball is more nerve-wracking than basketball? How can this be?

Alec hits the first pitch and my heart beats once in my chest. It’s going straight toward the third baseman, but it goes right out of play. Foul. I catch my breath. One strike. Behind the dugout, I can hear the Ballers screaming for Alec. He looks cool as a cucumber even though I’m practically shaking with adrenaline all over. With the next pitch, there’s another crack of the bat. This one isn’t anywhere near the foul line. It’s going straight for the outfield. I stand, watching it just like everyone else. The left fielder runs toward it. It’s going to be so close. Eventually, it drops to the grass. I turn toward the infield. The player on third is just now tagging home base. My mouth drops as I jump up and down. The player on second is rounding third. Coach is out on his feet, waving his hands wildly. “Home! Home!”

The outfielder throws the ball in. He’s throwing it toward third just as Alec runs toward it. He slides. Everything happens so slowly that it feels like forever until the umpire calls him safe.

The crowd goes nuts.

Alec jumps to his feet and fist bumps the air. He’s just hit a triple. RHS is now tied with Preston. I scramble for the water when I notice the two guys who scored are coming in. They slap hands with their teammates and then I’m there, holding up the water bottles to them. Their chests are heaving as they gulp the water down. “That was awesome,” I say, unable to keep my mouth shut.

“Christopoulos has a way of always showing up for us,” the first guy says.

The next one smirks. “Screw basketball, he should be playing for the major leagues and he knows it. A fucking triple?”

I immediately swing my gaze toward Alec. Alec pursuing baseball instead of basketball? I almost don’t even believe it. I understand that he plays baseball, but…wow. That would change everything.

I don’t have much time to think about it though because the next guy up hits a line drive past the first baseman. It just barely curves inside into fair territory. The whole team jumps up as Alec sprints toward home.

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