Chapter Thirty-One

Alyssa

Friday was way too quiet. Alyssa kept glancing at Tristan’s empty chair at lunch, feeling just as empty. Dad had told her to dismantle the two broken pitching machines last night…and it had felt too much like giving up. Plus, the assistant manager at Top Sports had called her on the way to school to make sure they were on for the interview.

So far, this Friday was shaping up to be more like a Monday.

“He’ll be back soon.” Lauren gave her an encouraging smile that she quickly turned on Faith. “You, too, mopey face.”

Faith rolled her eyes. “This is the first time Kyle’s been gone since we started going out. I didn’t think it would be a big deal…but it is. He sent me some flowers, though. Mom called to say they’d been delivered to the house.”

Lauren mimed gagging. “These guys are so sweet I’m getting a cavity.”

Alyssa had to laugh. Faith and Kyle could be a little annoying. Cute, but oh-my-God-stop-making-googly-eyes annoying.

“Hey, remember that you were caught with your hand up Tristan’s shirt, missy. If anyone gets to be tickled by this situation, it’s me.” Lauren jabbed a thumb at her chest. “I’m still boyfriend-less.”

“You had your hand up his shirt?” Faith leaned forward. “I didn’t hear about that.”

Alyssa groaned. Her face was so flushed, it felt sunburned. “I think we should focus on finding Lauren a boyfriend.”

“She’s deflecting,” Faith said.

“Totally.” Lauren tossed a napkin at Alyssa. “And before you ask, I’m not going out with Dylan. He’s a friend is all. And he’s also a little too…uptight for me.”

“Pitcher,” Alyssa said, and Faith nodded.

“Anyhoo, I heard Jackson still has his arms, and he’ll be pitching today.” Lauren took a bite out of her muffin. “He better not screw this up, or else.”

“He’s arrogant enough to do fine. I’m more worried about Tristan.” Alyssa scooped up a forkful of salad, stared at it, and dropped it on her tray. “I wish I didn’t have that interview today. I’d rather be in San Antonio.”

“I’m going tomorrow if they win tonight,” Faith said. “You should come with me. Road trip!”

Alyssa’s shoulders rounded under the weight of everything else she had to do. She wished—wished—she could go, but that wasn’t possible. “Thanks for the offer, but my dad said something about family time this weekend. Plus, we have a lot to do at Swing Away.”

“If you change your mind, let me know.” Faith gave her a secretive smile. “What are you doing Sunday? If the guys win, there’s going to be a big celebration thing at the baseball fields.”

“I’m definitely going to that.” Was that the surprise Tristan had mentioned? It would be so great if the guys did win. The entire time she’d known Tristan, he’d been a little stressed. What would he be like when the pressure was off?

What would he kiss like when the pressure was off?

“Lord, I don’t even want to know what you’re thinking,” Lauren said, waving her fork. “I better go. I have some things to do before class.”

Faith checked her watch and yelped. “Oh! Me, too.”

“Like what?” Alyssa looked between them. What was so important that they’d leave fifteen minutes into lunch period?

“School project,” Lauren said.

“Drama stuff,” Faith said at the same time.

Alyssa leaned back in her chair. “You two are acting weird. What’s going on?”

Lauren flashed her a bright smile. “Not a thing. Enjoy your lunch!”

The two girls hurried out of the cafeteria, heads close together. Definitely suspicious, and it had something to do with her—Alyssa was sure of it. But what were they up to?

“You have a lot of experience,” Ms. Compton said. “Even mechanical—that’s impressive.”

The assistant manager for sports programming at Top Sports turned out to be younger than Alyssa imagined. All the managers, including the GM, were younger than her dad by ten years or more. What would it be like for him, starting over in a place like this?

“A place like this” was spotless, gleaming, and plastic. The entire complex oozed money, but not in a good way. The batting cages were high-tech, with the best pitching machines on the market and perfect nets. Ms. Compton told her they were replaced every year. “Whether they need it or not,” she’d said. “We want to preserve the aesthetic.”

Which was a fancy way of saying “we want to be newer and shinier than everyone else.”

Now, Alyssa sat across from Ms. Compton in a small office in the main building. Outside the door, employees bustled to the bar—a full bar, that included a limited restaurant menu—or to the driving ranges, or the cages, or wherever else the thirty-seven people on shift went. The place was huge, and intimidating.

Alyssa could barely control her distaste. Her blood pulsed with helpless anger. This place was here to put the bowling alley on Main, the driving range off Porter Road, and Swing Away out of business. Pure and simple. Top Sports management had seen the money in Suttonville and come running.

“So you’ll be managing a staff of three on every shift,” Ms. Compton was saying. Her sky-blue polo, with Top Sports embroidered over her heart, strained across her chest, and her smile looked like something out of the Miss Texas pageant. That was another thing—most of the staff looked as plastic and pretty as the complex.

Alyssa gritted her teeth. “Mostly high school students?”

“No, the majority of our staff is eighteen and up. You’re the youngest person we’ve considered hiring.” Ms. Compton’s smile twitched. “But your father is very persuasive.”

Someone didn’t like the conditions of Dad’s employment. Alyssa could see why—she didn’t fit the Top Sports mold. And there was no way she was capping her teeth for a job that paid eleven dollars an hour. “I’m very mature for my age.”

“That’s what I hear. Well, your schedule in the summer will be very busy. We require supervisors to work no less than thirty hours a week during the summer. You will probably close some nights and open the next day on occasion.” Ms. Compton’s smile turned into a smirk. “New supervisors pick shifts last. Seniority, you know.”

That wasn’t what her dad had said. He’d said she would have a flexible schedule. “How late do you close?” Alyssa looked over Ms. Compton’s shoulder at the huge lights lining the edges of the complex. “And when do you open?”

“In the summer, we open at eight and close at midnight.” Ms. Compton steepled her fingers. “Surely that won’t be a problem, right?”

Alyssa met her gaze. “So, I’ll have less than eight hours between shifts in the summer. Doesn’t that violate child labor laws?”

“No.” Ms. Compton’s fake smile faded. “You’re seventeen. The law says you can work the same hours as an adult. And you will be treated just like every other supervisor who was hired directly.”

Alyssa heard what she wasn’t saying—Dad had talked Compton’s boss into hiring her, but that didn’t mean the other assistant managers had to like it.

That didn’t mean Alyssa had to like it, either. Flipping burgers or making smoothies would be better than this. So what if she loved being around batting cages? Losing Swing Away didn’t mean Top Sports was her only option, and she had to stop thinking about it that way. This place was giving her hives, and Ms. Compton reminded her of a fembot. If she had to get up every morning this summer and come here, how much damage would be done? Who would she be by the time school started?

No, she couldn’t do it.

Alyssa stood. “I thank you for the time, Ms. Compton, but I prefer not to sell out at this time. I’m sure you’ll find a willing college student for my position. Have a nice day.”

“What? Wait, where are you—”

Alyssa shut the door between them and leaned against the wall. Dad was probably going to come home wearing a very stern expression, but it would be worth it. She’d been practical her whole life, and lately that had caused nothing but trouble. Not anymore. From now on, she was going to sing with the car windows rolled down, walk barefoot outside, and look for a job she could do without feeling like she needed to shower.

And she was going to do it her own way.