Chapter Twenty-Four

Tristan

“How’s my favorite little brother?” Keller rubbed Tristan’s head, grinning.

“Younger, not little. You had to stand on tiptoe to mess up my hair.” Tristan patted his hair back into place. “I’m fine. How’s school?”

“It’s school.” Keller shrugged. “Engineering, math, fifteenth-century British lit for fun.”

“You’re reading old English for fun? Way to make me look like a slacker, butthead.” Tristan felt pride swell in his chest anyway. His brother was a genius, and how many people could say that? “It’s good to have you home.”

“Yeah. I can’t wait to watch you play Friday.” Keller threw a furtive glance at their parents, who were already at their favorite table in the country club’s restaurant. “Can Mom tell the difference between balls and strikes, yet?”

Tristan snorted. “No. And Dad’s still baffled by double plays. How can two smart people have that much trouble with a pretty simple sport? Football has about a thousand more rules than baseball.”

“Don’t worry about it.” Keller led him toward the table. “I’ll cheer enough for both of them. And maybe elbow them a little when you do something spectacular.”

Only if my hitting keeps improving. He turned his head to hide a smile. Alyssa was definitely his secret weapon on Friday. The game was in San Antonio, so she probably couldn’t come, but he’d make sure to steal a kiss or two Thursday night.

“What’s the grin for?” Keller was watching with narrowed—amused—eyes. “Ah, who is she?”

“I’m that easy to read, huh?” Tristan paused beside the buffet, the smell of bacon calling to him like a siren song. His stomach rumbled. “Her name’s Alyssa. That’s all you get before I’m fed.”

After filling plates, they joined their parents. Tristan concentrated on eating, especially when the conversation turned to thermodynamics. The rest of his family chatted easily about stuff that made his brain hurt. Sure, they loved him, but sometimes he felt he was on a different planet than the rest of them.

“Hey,” Keller shot him a look. “How about this kid. The team is in the semis. That’s hard-core, right?”

“Um…yes?” Mom’s forehead wrinkled. “Is hard-core good?”

Dad chuckled. “It’s rad.”

Tristan groaned and laid his head on the table. “Please, make them stop.”

“No, really, we should let them go on.” Keller was snickering. “I want to see how long until Dad dredges up ‘gnarly.’”

“Hey, don’t mock our generation’s teenage exclamations,” Dad said. “You people say things like ‘yasss queen.’ I have no idea who you’re talking about. Queen Elizabeth?”

“Noooo,” Tristan moaned. “This has gone too far. Stop talking. Please, for the love of God.”

“You know we love you, honey.” Mom shook his arm, smiling when he looked up at her. “And we are proud of the baseball. You do well.”

Wow…what praise. Not great, just well. “Thanks Mom.”

“Now, about that girl.” Keller waggled his eyebrows. “What’s the story there?”

“Girl?” Mom asked, perking up. “There’s a girl? I thought we were still in the post-Raina grief cycle.”

“Mom, I know you did a psych rotation in med school, but there was no grief cycle.” Not entirely true, but he was definitely over it—it’d been almost a year already. “And yes, there’s a girl. She’s, uh, like me. She’s into baseball, but she’s also a dancer.”

“Ballet?” Mom’s eyes were shining now. “Please tell me it’s ballet.”

“It’s ballet.” Tristan rolled his eyes. What, did she think he was going to tell her Alyssa was into exotic dancing? “She’s trying out for the Dallas Ballet Conservatory camp in the summer.”

“How wonderful. A cultured young lady. I bet she knows all about classical music, too.”

Tristan’s heart sank a little. Hearing Alyssa was like him hadn’t interested Mom—the parts that were like her did. “Maybe. I guess. I don’t know.”

“Is she a junior? Does she know where she’ll go to university?” Dad asked.

“I…I don’t know, exactly.” Tristan swallowed hard. He really didn’t know as much about Alyssa as he should. They spent a lot of their time together working on his hitting issues. Well, and worrying about Swing Away. For some reason, not knowing more bothered him. He wanted to know her. There were a thousand questions he wanted to ask her now, from her favorite ice cream flavor to whether or not she planned to go to college in-state or across the country. “I’ll ask her when I see her again.”

That satisfied Dad, but Mom was like a hound with a scent. “What does she look like? Do you have a picture? If you’re still together at homecoming, can I make her a mum? Oh, where does she live? Do you know her mother’s name?”

“Mom, go easy on him.” Keller pointed a piece of bacon Tristan. “He looks like he’s going to drown under all the questions. Let him get to know the girl before you do, okay?”

“Oh, of course.” Mom’s cheeks turned a light pink. “I’m sorry, honey.”

“It’s okay.” Tristan gave her a wry smile. “Give me another month or two, and I’ll not only answer all your questions, I’ll bring her over to meet you.”

Mom nodded, satisfied. Or so he thought until she said, “Keller, what about you? Any young ladies we need to chat about?”

Keller held up a hand and called, “Check, please.”

Tristan sat cross-legged on his bed, staring at his phone. After he’d finished his homework, he’d texted Alyssa. An hour later, she hadn’t responded. Maybe it was nothing—maybe she was at work and couldn’t get to her phone.

Still, he couldn’t shake the feeling that something was wrong. He had no idea why, but sometimes gut feelings were right even without any evidence.

For a while, he thought maybe he was paranoid, but when he hadn’t heard from her by Monday morning, doubts began to crowd out any reason he could muster up. He looked for her in the halls on his way to his locker and struck out. She had to be here somewhere. What was going on?

Dylan was leaning against his locker when Tristan walked up. Stealing himself for the silent treatment, Tristan forced a friendly smile. “Hey. How was your weekend?”

“Okay.” Dylan stared at the tile floor. “Look, I was kind of a bastard last week. I had some time to think about everything, and I get why you didn’t tell me at first.”

Shock coursed through Tristan. “Seriously? You’re…okay?”

Dylan shrugged, but he was smiling a little, too. “Yeah, man, I am. I’m not in a good place for a girlfriend anyway. I want to make the minors in a year, and I need to focus on my game. My ‘no girls’ rule was for a good reason, and I’m sticking to it.”

Tristan elbowed him in the ribs. “There’s always Lauren.”

Dylan’s expression said it all. “Honestly, she’s scary. I get the feeling she doesn’t like it if she doesn’t get her way. Not what I’m looking for, even if the package is nice.” He jerked his chin at Tristan. “How about you and Alyssa? What’s going on there?”

“I’m not sure… Well, I am, but…” He opened his locker and pulled out his binder for first period. “I like her, a lot. She’s cool, and pretty, and a batting coach. I’ll tell you right now, she’s how I’m busting my slump.”

“For real?” Dylan laughed. “I wondered how you got it back all of a sudden.”

“For real.” Tristan laughed, too. “She diagnosed my swing in, like, two tries. Just thinking about her smile is enough to slow me down so I can connect with a pitch.”

“That’s great. I really mean that.” Dylan hoisted his backpack onto his shoulder. “Look, I better run. See you at lunch.”

Tristan waved at his friend, then took one more look down the hall. He could’ve sworn he saw Alyssa’s back, but by the time he waded through the students crowding the hall, she was gone.

His good mood fizzled. What was going on?