Chapter Twenty-Eight
Tristan
Alyssa’s text came in right as Tristan escaped the dining room, hungry but victorious—he’d managed to pretend he’d eaten a full helping of meatloaf, hiding it in his napkin before throwing it out. Because of the sham, though, he couldn’t go to Snap’s for a quick burger, so he was stuck going to his room with a half-empty stomach.
He’d felt his phone vibrate in his pocket, but Mom had a “no cell phones” rule at the dinner table. When he saw the message, he sank down on the edge of his bed, not sure how to feel. On one hand, it sounded like Alyssa wanted to give it another go. On the other…he wasn’t too busy to see her. So why was she putting it off?
He sat, trying to decide how to respond, for a good ten minutes.
That sounded good, right? Not too desperate? He meant it…every word.
But when he read her text again, he could hear the defeat in her words. Frowning, he texted again:
He didn’t really expect to receive an answer, but little bubbles popped up immediately—she was texting him back. He watched and waited, for almost five minutes, until her reply came.
Their business was closing?
Maybe they would be, but she wasn’t okay right now.
A long pause.
She didn’t answer, but he didn’t care—she was speaking to him again. That was a good start. He’d figure out the rest…but losing Swing Away hurt. For Alyssa and her family, but for him, too. He’d gotten a little of his mojo back there, and much, much more. It would be like watching his childhood Little League fields being razed for a parking lot. There had to be something he could do…but what? How could he possibly find enough money to save it? He doubted his parents would help—why would they?
So he’d have to help on his own, and what did he have other than a passable throwing arm and a decent swing…some of the time?
Tristan glanced at himself in the mirror. He’d pulled off his shirt, thinking he was going to change into something more comfortable than the polo his mother liked to see at her dinner table, but hadn’t gotten around to putting on a T. He’d been too interested in the text.
Staring at himself, though, he got an idea. A really crazy, flat-out insane idea. He’d need help from a bunch of his teammates, but there was something most of them had that might just bring in some cash. Tristan smirked. This could work. Assuming Coach approved it.
He’d have to talk to the guys tomorrow.
Tristan stood outside school the next morning, trying to avoid running into Alyssa before lunch. She wanted space, so he’d give her space. That didn’t mean it wasn’t going to be torture sitting through class all morning.
Kyle walked up beside him. “Everything okay?”
Tristan shrugged, watching a squirrel try to drag a crust of bread from the trash can to a nearby tree. Persistent bastard…kind of like him. “Alyssa agreed to see me at lunch.”
“That good, right?” Kyle asked.
“I hope so. I really like her.”
Kyle gave him a “no shit” look. “She’s not running away cursing your name. That’s a good day, Murrell. Go from there.”
“I will.” Tristan hoisted his backpack higher on his shoulder. “Look, I have an idea to help Alyssa’s family out with their business. Any chance I can catch you before practice, see what you think?”
“You bet.” Kyle glanced over Tristan’s shoulder. “Later.”
Tristan turned to see Faith coming in from the parking lot. Kyle jogged over to her, taking everything out of her arms but her purse. She smiled up at him in a way that made Tristan a little green with envy. Would Alyssa ever look at him like that?
Time would tell. But first, he had to make it through the morning.
That turned out to be harder than he thought. He botched a quiz in Algebra II to start the day. His U.S. history teacher could make the Revolutionary War boring, and today she was talking about the Great Depression…which only made it worse.
After making it through English, spending an entire hour talking about final paper topics, he’d started to doubt everything—the plan for Swing Away, what he’d say to Alyssa, his own swing…everything. He stalked into the cafeteria, not sure if he was angry, sad, hopeful, or disappointed. Probably all four.
Then the cafeteria served him meatloaf. Meatloaf.
“That’s it,” he said when he set his tray on the lunch table. “It feels like the universe might be trying to tell me something.”
“I thought you were excited to talk to Alyssa.” Dylan frowned. “What changed?”
“I’m scared I’ll screw it up, crash and burn.” Tristan stared glumly at the table. Someone had etched “Death and all his friends” into the tabletop. Okay, maybe someone had had a worse day than this at one point. “My nerves are scraped raw, that’s all.”
“Dude, calm down.” Dylan pointed a ketchup-covered French fry at him. “She’s not even here yet. You have time to eat something and chill.”
Tristan pushed his mostly full tray away. “I’m not hungry.”
Dylan snorted. “You haven’t been eating enough for a while. I can tell you’ve lost weight. Not what we need right now. Eat!”
Tristan halfheartedly ate a fry just to shut Dylan up, but it tasted like sawdust. Besides, his stomach wouldn’t settle for anything. Alyssa had agreed to see him, but the more he thought about it, the more he realized she hadn’t sounded super enthused—was that a bad thing? She said she wanted to start over later, but what did that mean? Square one? Negative four?
“Get out of your own head,” Dylan said. “Whatever you’re thinking, it’s winding you up. Take a breath, man.”
Tristan slumped in his chair. “I know, I know.”
“This is what happens to you when you bat, too. Your focus is out of whack. There’s some kind of demon in there, screwing with your swing.” Dylan folded his napkin into a perfect square and lined it up with the edge of the table. “You’ll see. Once everything works out with Alyssa, it’ll be fine.”
But would it work out? “Yeah, sure.”
Dylan started to say something, then stopped and pointed. “Believe me or don’t. Either way, you’re about to find out.”
Tristan followed Dylan’s line of sight, and there she was. Alyssa was in the cafeteria.
Tristan’s heart tried to claw its way up his throat. He couldn’t keep his eyes off her. Doubts or not, she was still the most amazing girl in all of Suttonville. Now all he had to do was find a way to convince her he was the right guy.