TJ came over to my house Saturday night after I got home from the airport.
“I threw a bad pitch, and the girl hit it over the fence. We lost 5−4.” I was relieved it wasn’t Rusty who messed up, but I really felt sorry for TJ — she hates to lose.
“Don’t worry about it too much. It’s just one game, and if you weren’t such a great pitcher, the score could have been higher.”
“I would have done better if you were playing short. I get nervous with Rusty there and it distracts me.”
“You know, Rusty is a better athlete than I am. She’s quicker and taller, so she can get to balls faster. She just needs to build her confidence.”
“Whatever. How was Arizona?”
“It was okay. The jet ride was fun. Something weird happened with a reporter, and I sort of got in trouble for talking to him. But that’s just between you and me. Don’t tell anyone else.”
TJ grinned and leaned closer to me.
“And I have a secret for you.”
“What?”
“Breanne wants to find out more about Flip.”
“That’s no secret.”
“I know. But she’s planning to come to your photo shoot this weekend, and she wants to follow him home — if he has one.”
“That’s not nice.”
“Yeah, but it’s interesting. Don’t you want to find out where he lives?”
“I guess.”
“So are you in or out?”
“What do you mean?”
“Do you want to check it out with us? I’m going to go too. We don’t have a softball game this weekend. We could tell your mom that you’re coming home with us, and then we could follow him.”
“I don’t know. Sounds like a dumb plan. Why don’t we just ask him where he lives?”
“Rileeeeey . . . come on. It’ll be like solving a mystery. You can be Nancy Drew.” (TJ and I always used to pretend to solve mysteries when we were smaller. We took turns being Nancy and George.)
I didn’t want to do it. But then I thought it could be a way to get back to normal again with TJ. We hadn’t had any fun together since the whole shoe thing started.
“Okay. I’ll do it. But if we get caught, I’ll just pretend I didn’t know what you guys were doing, and I’ll say you forced me to come. I don’t want Flip mad at me.”
“We won’t get caught.”
All week I worried that my parents might find out. I also wondered if it could get me fired from my shoe contract. If that were the case, maybe it would be a good thing to get caught.
At least I didn’t worry about Rusty starving during the week. Her dad got his unemployment money on Monday, so they were able to go buy a bunch of food. I also got to give her a little gift at practice on Tuesday.
“Hey, guess who won the shoe giveaway in Arizona?”
She shrugged.
“You.” I handed her a box of size eights in a brand-new Riley Mae design — the Teal and Steals. (They have sparkly teal lightning bolts.)
“No way. I can’t take these.”
“You have to. You won them, and I’m not allowed to give them back. Anyway, they’re your size, and you steal a lot of bases, so they’re perfect.”
“How did I win them if I wasn’t even there?”
“God worked it out.”
“What does he have to do with it?
Why did she keep saying that? God has everything to do with stuff like this. Didn’t Rusty know that? I was silent for a minute, and then I remembered something Mrs. O’Reilly said during her Armor of God lesson:
“For a Christian, our shoes are the Gospel of peace. Having Jesus in our hearts is the only way we can experience true peace . . . we need to share that peace with others.”
I believed that, and I wanted to share it with Rusty, but I didn’t have a clue what to say, except:
“Well, he loves you a lot.”
Rusty looked down at the ground and shook her head.
“I’m not so sure about that — for me, I mean. But it’s okay. I think I understand why. But I’m glad you’ve been so nice to me.”
Why would Rusty think that God doesn’t love her?
I still had no idea what to say.
So the rest of the week when I wasn’t worried about following Flip, I was trying to figure out what to say to Rusty about Jesus.
“Mom, what would you say to someone who isn’t sure Jesus loves them?”
Mom pulled up a barstool and answered right away. “I’d tell them that they’re crazy. He died on the cross to prove it.”
I asked my dad too. “I’d tell them about Christmas. How he left heaven and became a man so that he could be our Savior.”
I even asked Brady. “I’d tell them that I know he loves me. So that proves that he loves them, cause hardly anybody even likes me.”
Crazy, but Brady’s answer made the most sense to me. And then I felt bad for my brother but happy for him at the same time, since at least Jesus is his friend.
But I still didn’t know exactly what to say to Rusty.
So I got back to worrying about following Flip.
The Swiftriver photo shoot was at Woodward Park on Saturday. I was supposed to model some cross-training shoes while working out on the fitness course that surrounds the park. It was really cold again, but at least it was sunny. Everything was going great until Breanne and TJ showed up after lunch.
“We told your mom we’d take you home.” TJ tried to do a secret wink, but she wasn’t very good at it. She just looked like she had something in her eye.
“Need eye drops?” Flip pulled a bottle out of his pocket.
“Check the expiration date on those.” Fawn laughed.
Breanne came strolling over to us wearing — a dress?
“Hi, everyone.” She was walking with her hands on her hips, like she was a model or something. Tilting her head back and forth too. “So, Flip, how’s work going today? Is Riley cooperating?” She patted me on the head like I was a baby.
“She’s a pro now. No trouble at all,” Flip said.
“We’re giving her a ride home later. Would you like one too? I noticed you have your . . . uh . . . bike again.”
Fawn laughed some more as she walked away.
“No thanks, I’m good. I like riding — it’s good exercise.”
Breanne walked over and put her hand on Flip’s shoulder this time.
“Are you sure you don’t want a ride? It’s awfully cold out here, and you’re not wearing much.” That was true. It was the faded t-shirt again, with shorts and flip-flops.
“Nah, I’m good. Really. Plus, you might try to kidnap me.”
“Huh?” Breanne tossed her head again. Gross.
“Whenever I get around a bunch of ladies, they never want to let me go. Too much charm, I guess.”
TJ and I cracked up. Breanne frowned and stomped over to sit on a bench. Score one for Flip.
As soon as the shoot was done, Breanne was all over us again.
“Riley, don’t forget we’re taking you home, honey.” Honey? She gestured to me to hurry up. On her way over to the car, I saw her pick something up off the picnic table where Flip had all his equipment. Whatever it was, she stuffed it in her purse. There was no turning back from the plan now.