That's Not What I Heard, page 6
Olivia was trying to think of a way she could tell Kim off that wouldn’t result in Mama K forcing them to have a “deliberative dialogue” about dealing with sibling issues in a constructive way. Olivia didn’t want to have any kind of dialogue. She just wanted to yell at Kim.
“Phan!” Coach Finn yelled at Wendy. “What are you doing up there? It’s not social hour!”
Finally. Shamefacedly, Wendy scuttled back to the pitcher’s mound and tossed the ball to Olivia. Olivia caught it easily, loving the smacking sound as the ball slid neatly into her glove. She threw it back to Wendy, who tossed it off to first.
“Landis-Lilley!” Coach Finn was jogging down the third-base line toward Olivia. She passed Molly and joined Olivia in that no-man’s-land between second and third that had become her home. A freshman, playing shortstop on varsity softball. Olivia still couldn’t believe it sometimes. “You heard anything from your sister?”
“Nope.” Olivia deflated a little. Why did everyone only want to talk about Kim? Like, yes, boo-hoo, the breakup was tragic and all, but didn’t everyone have better stuff to talk about? Coach Finn especially. They had a game against Jonathan Jennings High this weekend, and they’d only barely beaten them last game. Way too close for comfort.
“It’s not like her to miss practice,” Coach Finn said. “She’s only missed two in the past four years, and she had doctor’s notes for those.”
“Maybe the snakes scared her off,” Olivia muttered.
Coach Finn shot Olivia a look. Wendy threw the ball to Olivia and she caught it, grateful to have something to focus on besides Coach Finn. Even the softball field wasn’t safe from Kim-and-Teddy anymore. Olivia threw the ball back to Wendy, hoping Coach Finn realized the conversation was over.
“Car!” Molly screamed.
A gray Honda Accord was barreling down the field, headed straight toward the softball diamond. What was happening?! Instead of slowing down, it seemed to be speeding up.
“Run, ladies!” Coach Finn commanded, and the team scattered for the safety of the dugout.
But Olivia didn’t run. She had a feeling, somehow, that the car was coming for her. She watched, instead, as Coach Mendoza started sprinting toward the car from the baseball field, waving his arms and shouting. She thought he might have been shouting, “The grass was just reseeded!” but he was too far away for her to be sure.
The car certainly didn’t pay Coach Mendoza any attention as it drove onto the diamond. Olivia winced as it skidded to a halt, sending up a spray of red dirt onto her sweats. She had no info on when the grass may or may not have been reseeded, but tire tracks could not have been good for the field. The passenger door popped open to reveal Kim’s best friend, Jess, sunglasses pushed up on top of her head and a crazed look in her eyes.
“Get in,” Jess demanded. “We have to find your sister.”
Usually, Teddy liked baseball practice. He liked it even when Coach Mendoza made them run sprints, like he had today. But today, no matter how fast he sprinted, he couldn’t outrun the fact that everyone—including the entire baseball team—had seen all those posters. He swore that every time he turned around, all the outfielders were clustered together, staring at him. Talking about him, probably.
Man, today just needed to end. First, Teddy had accidentally broken up with Kim. Or she’d broken up with him? He still wasn’t sure what had happened. But before he could talk to her about it, she’d run away. And then she hadn’t been in English after lunch. And then when he got out of class, the entire senior hall was wallpapered with posters calling him a snake. A snake. He couldn’t believe it. Apparently Kim had wanted to break up with him. Because the snake poster thing seemed like a pretty nuclear option after what he’d thought had just been a misunderstanding.
Corey Brooks, over at shortstop, turned to Teddy and pulled up his sweatshirt, flashing the snake poster he’d taped to his T-shirt. Awesome. Corey had now flashed Teddy four times, and Coach Mendoza hadn’t noticed one of them. Coach Mendoza had noticed Elvis flipping Corey off from third base in retribution and made him run five laps around the field. Teddy appreciated Elvis’s show of solidarity, but he couldn’t help but be bothered by a small sliver of doubt that poked at the back of his brain. A poke that wondered why Elvis’s sweater had looked oddly rectangular as they walked to the locker rooms—that wondered why Elvis had insisted on changing inside a bathroom stall—almost like Elvis had been trying to conceal a hidden snake poster …
No way. Teddy gritted his teeth and kicked the side of second base. Elvis wouldn’t do that to him. And Principal Manteghi had promised that all the posters would be gone before tomorrow, and that whoever had put them up would be issued serious consequences. Kim, issued a consequence. Teddy couldn’t even imagine it. The only consequence Kim had ever gotten was because of an overdue library book, and she’d been distraught until the librarian realized she’d reshelved the book wrong and Kim had of course turned it in, right on time. Because that was how Kim did things: right on time.
He wondered if she’d scheduled this breakup, too. If she’d penciled Print Posters into her planner right after lunch.
Teddy had bought that planner with her at Target. He’d stood with her patiently for what had felt like hours as she flipped through the different planners and smoothed their shiny surfaces. Believe it or not, he used to think her planner thing was cute, loving the way she got so excited about a new calendar, her color-coded pens, her plethora of Post-it notes. Well, it was a post-Kim world. And Teddy would never use a planner again.
Not that he used one now anyway.
Kim had gotten him a planner, on that same Target trip. His didn’t have metallic polka dots on it, like hers did. It was just plain black on the front, but Kim had printed out a picture of the two of them at the Target photo center and then taped it carefully into the inside cover. Was that why Kim had broken up with him? Because he never used the planner she got him?
No. Nobody liked planners that much. And Kim had been buying Teddy planners he didn’t use since sixth grade. They were all in his closet, stacked up one on top of the other. If it had been the planner, she would have broken up with him a long time ago.
Maybe that was the worst part of all of it. Not knowing why she’d broken up with him. It was worse than never again hearing Kim laugh so hard she snorted, and then watching her cover her nose with shock, like it was still surprising to her, somehow, even though she always snorted when she laughed. When she really laughed, not pretend-laughed to be nice. Like she’d really laughed last weekend, when they’d gone to the Dairy Star after their games, and Teddy had done an impression of Mr. Dykstra eating soft-serve and getting it all up in his mustache …
A baseball whizzed right past Teddy’s left ear and sailed into the outfield.
“Catch those, Lin!” Coach Mendoza shouted from where he stood by the dugout. “You’ve gotta catch those!”
“He’s distracted, Coach!” Corey Brooks shouted back, smirking. “Girl trouble!”
“I could not care less, Brooks!” Coach Mendoza shouted back. “I’m sensing a distinct lack of focus today, Flying Arrows. Would running laps help us focus up?”
“NO!” Elvis screamed, while everyone else muttered something to the same effect. Elvis really hated running. He always said if he wanted to run, he’d have played soccer. Usually that statement meant five more laps from Coach Mendoza.
“Poor Kim must be awfully lonely,” Corey mused, quietly enough that Coach Mendoza couldn’t hear him, but Teddy definitely could. “She was looking hella cute this morning, too. There’s something about that red sweater, man, am I right?”
Teddy had given Kim that red sweater for her birthday a couple months ago. It made her dark hair look shiny and her brown eyes enormous and whenever she wore it, Teddy couldn’t quite believe someone that gorgeous was with him. Was with him. Emphasis on the was.
“Or maybe it’s what’s under the sweater, if you know what I mean …”
Teddy did not consider himself a violent person. He had, in fact, never been in any kind of a physical fight, unless you counted the time that he pushed Elvis jokingly and Elvis fell off a picnic table, but that had more to do with Elvis’s lack of balance than Teddy’s violent shoving abilities. And so Teddy couldn’t explain why he launched himself at Corey, tackled him to the ground, and started slapping him with his baseball glove.
“Lin!” Coach Mendoza shouted. “What are you doing?! Get off him!”
“Dude! Stop! Ow!” Corey yodeled in pain. Teddy realized that slapping his teammate with a baseball glove was kind of an absurdist maneuver, but it was what he’d started with, and he was sticking to it.
“Aaaaaaaa!” Teddy heard Elvis scream, and before he knew it, Elvis had materialized next to him, vigorously slapping Corey’s calves with his own baseball glove. Teddy assumed the calves were the only body part Elvis could reach, and Elvis wasn’t inflicting some kind of special calf-muscle torture, but you never knew.
“Rodriguez! Are you kidding me?” Coach Mendoza was now running over to them, probably about to pull them off Corey by physical force. Teddy knew he should stop, but he couldn’t. All he did was slap Corey harder.
“What is wrong with the two of you?” Corey whined. “At least hit me like a normal person!”
Before Teddy could decide if he was going to hit Corey like a normal person, deafening sirens filled the air.
“Teddy! Stop, man!” Josiah Watkins must have made it in from the outfield before Coach Mendoza could get there from the dugout, because it was Josiah who shook Teddy’s slapping arm and pulled him off of Corey. “It’s the police!”
Teddy froze, crouched in the dirt of the baseball diamond, Josiah’s arm still restraining him gently. He was vaguely aware of Elvis still slapping away at Corey’s legs. The police?! This was bad. This was so, so, so bad. Could you be arrested for slapping someone with a baseball glove? Would Teddy’s parents murder him if he got arrested, and then they, in turn, would also be arrested? It seemed like the most likely scenario.
“Don’t drive on the—are you kidding me? A second car on the field? What is going on today?” Coach Mendoza was now running across the baseball diamond, waving his arms over his head at the police car barreling through the field and straight toward them. “WE JUST RESEEDED THE GRASS!” Coach Mendoza yelled. “Does no one understand the fragility of an ecosystem that’s recently been introduced to soil conditioner?!”
With a well-placed kick, Corey shook Elvis off him and struggled up to a sitting position.
“You guys are so lame,” Corey said, brushing the dirt off his track pants.
“You’re the lame one, you … uh … lame-o!” Elvis retorted.
“I get why Kim dumped you.” Corey narrowed his eyes at Teddy. “Work on your anger, man. And she was way too hot for you, anyway.”
Teddy tensed. Kim was way too hot for him. But he didn’t like hearing Corey say it.
“Not worth it,” Josiah muttered, keeping a calming hand wrapped around Teddy’s arm. “You’ve gotta relax, man. The police are here.”
Despite Coach Mendoza’s frantic waving, the police car pulled right up onto the diamond, its flashing lights casting red and blue shadows over Corey’s face as he leaned in toward Teddy.
“Slap me all you want,” Corey hissed in Teddy’s face. “I’m asking Kim out. And there’s nothing you can do to stop me.”
“She won’t say yes,” Elvis protested. “No way. Not in a million years.”
“We’ll see.”
Teddy wanted to get his baseball glove back out and slap that smug smile right off of Corey’s stupid face. But Josiah must have taken it away from him at some point, because Teddy no longer had a glove. Probably for the best. Because the police car—well, technically, it looked more like a police truck—had parked, and the driver’s door opened. Teddy was conscious suddenly of the entire team clustered around him, like they were forming a protective shield. He wondered if he should make a run for it, or if that would make things worse. Evading arrest probably wouldn’t earn him any points with the judge.
“Dude.” Elvis slapped Teddy’s arm and pointed at the police truck. “It’s not the police.”
Teddy followed Elvis’s pointing arm to the gold lettering on the side of the police car that spelled out ANIMAL CONTROL.
“Animal Control?!” Corey laughed. “They didn’t even send the real police for you, Lin! They sent Animal Control!”
“That wasn’t even a good burn, man.” Josiah shook his head. “That was weak. That was like the kind of burn you get from a hot glue gun.”
Teddy didn’t know why Animal Control was here. But he knew that the guy walking toward him in a uniform, complete with glinting badge, certainly looked like a police officer.
“Can I help you, Officer?” Coach Mendoza asked, positioning himself between Teddy and the cop. “Maybe I could help you find the parking lot?” he added in an undertone.
“I’m looking for Teddy Lin,” the officer said. Teddy’s stomach plummeted into his cleats. “I was told I could find him on the baseball field.”
“May I ask why?” Coach Mendoza hadn’t immediately given him up. Maybe there was hope for Teddy after all. Maybe they’d form some kind of baseball brotherhood and refuse to turn him in, shielding him forever from the long arm of the law.
“Got an anonymous tip that a student named Teddy Lin released a bunch of snakes on the first floor of William Henry Harrison High.” Teddy exchanged a bewildered glance with Elvis. Someone thought he’d released snakes into the school? Why would he do that? Where would he even get a snake? “Now, I’ve examined the property and I’ve found no reptiles,” the officer continued, “but I’d like to ask Mr. Lin a few questions.”
“Seems unnecessary.” Coach Mendoza crossed his arms. “I was in the school myself all afternoon, and I didn’t see a single snake. No crime. No guilty party. So I see no reason you need to talk to Teddy.”
The Animal Control guy seemed to consider this, shifting his weight from side to side as he scratched the stubble on his chin.
“Seeing as there’s no reptiles,” the cop said, “I suppose that’s fine. But if I even see so much as a garter snake, I’m coming back. Gentlemen.”
The cop nodded at them, then climbed back into his truck. Teddy could practically feel Coach Mendoza wincing as the vehicle tore up the grass on his way out of William Henry Harrison High’s athletic fields.
“There’s only one snake here,” Corey hissed. “And his name is Teddy Lin. Ow!” he squawked in distress.
Teddy was pretty sure Josiah had just slapped Corey with a baseball glove.
It was always nice when the outfield had your back.
Kim had done A Very Bad Thing.
Kim had not intended to do A Very Bad Thing, which is probably what most people who did Very Bad Things would say. But Kim hadn’t intended to do anything, and certainly nothing as bad as skipping school. She’d just started running.
And she hadn’t stopped running. No one had seen her sprint through the doors by the gym, cut through the soccer field, and keep going down the driveway that would be filled by parents in the pickup line in a couple hours. And none of the cars she passed as she headed down Mariner Drive, away from school, seemed to notice her. And if anyone driving down the John J. Crittenden Memorial Highway thought it was weird that a teenage girl was sprinting down the side of the highway wearing jeans—not exactly high-tech performance gear—they didn’t do anything about it.
Kim hadn’t intended to go to the Dairy Star, either. But that’s where she found herself when she finally stopped running, four miles later. The neon soft-serve ice cream cone at the top of the small roadside stand blinked beckoningly at her, like the beacon of a safe haven. Even though it wasn’t a safe haven. She’d gone here with Teddy more times than she could count. But she’d been here with her moms and Olivia first, and at least that was something. Even if she’d been here with Teddy just this weekend. Back when things were normal, and everything was right with the world.
There was nowhere in this town that hadn’t been tainted by memories of Teddy. To get away from him, she’d have to move to a different county. Maybe a different country. For the first time, Kim felt like none of the colleges she’d applied to were far enough away. And now, of course, she was desperate to know where Teddy had applied.
But for very, very different reasons than she’d had not so long ago. How had everything changed so quickly?
Still. Kim wasn’t going to not eat ice cream just because she used to eat ice cream with Teddy. If she applied that logic, she’d have to stop eating altogether. She couldn’t think of a single food she’d ever eaten without Teddy. Except, like, baby food? But Kim wasn’t going to revert to an infant state just because she’d been dumped. Even if curling up into the fetal position sounded pretty good right about now.
Well. She was here, right? Might as well get something. As soon as everyone realized Kim was gone, she was going to be in major, major trouble—with school, but even worse, with her moms. Mama Dawn might like to think that she was more laid-back than Mama K—she was definitely more of the Good Cop—but both of Kim’s parents were going to lose it. They wouldn’t believe Kim had left school. She’d never skipped class. Ever. Come to think of it, Kim couldn’t even think of a single rule she’d ever broken. She studied for quizzes and turned in permission slips on time and never missed curfew and only stayed home from school when she was actually sick, with a note from her doctor in hand. She did everything right. And everything had gone wrong anyway. So what did it matter? She might as well have some ice cream.
Kim pulled the five-dollar bill out of her pants pocket that her moms made her take with her everywhere “for emergencies,” although she wasn’t sure how much five dollars would help in an emergency. Five dollars wouldn’t get you very far. Although it would get you a small butterscotch dip at the Dairy Star.
