Stealing Parker

Chapter 10


the mascot
30 days until i turn 18

Do I look different?
I’m staring at myself in the mirror.
I let Brian touch me, and I can’t stop thinking about it. It’s not like I lost my virginity or anything, but I feel like I gave away part of me. I turn sideways and examine my figure, arching my back, making sure I look slim in my jeans and navy blue cotton long-sleeved shirt. Cute for today’s game. But I’m not sure who I’m trying to look cute for. I’m not sure it’s Brian anymore, and I shouldn’t want to look pretty for Will. Honestly, I doubt Will would care that my lip gloss is perfect and my nails aren’t chipped.
I drag a hand through my hair, my fingers shaking. Drew saw me with Brian…and I’m not proud of it. I blow air out, trying to breathe evenly.
I’m not totally sure why, I guess I got caught up in it—in him, but last night after Brian touched me, I felt him too. He shut his eyes and leaned his head back against the seat while my fingers moved up and down. I could tell by the noises he made that he liked how I made him feel, but it was almost as if I could be anybody. It didn’t matter who I was, it was only that somebody was giving him pleasure.
I don’t want to be just anybody.
I want to matter, to be loved. I want the real.
???

The Hundred Oaks Raiders just beat Winchester, six to five. It was a close call, but Will drove two runs in during the eighth, edging us ahead. I dropped the stats book on the dusty dugout floor and jumped up and down, screaming his name as he rounded first base. He stood on second and took off his batting gloves, grinning over at me.
I really did miss this game.
Now we’re packing up our equipment and getting ready to leave.
A bunch of the guys are horsing around over at the concession stand. Sam asks if he can buy out their pizza supply for the bus ride home.
“We only have two pizzas available right now,” the worker replies.
“How many slices is that?” Will asks.
“Twenty or so?”
Will consults with Sam. “Maybe we should get Coach to take us to Domino’s, dude.”
“I hate Domiblows,” Sam replies.
“How about Papa John’s?” Will asks.
“Gag me with a spoon,” Sam jokes.
While they argue, I clear my mind. The sun is blazing. It’s not spring yet, but it feels very close, and I love standing here under the blue sky, thinking about how Mom’s tulips will bloom soon.
That’s when two guys from Winchester approach me.
“Hey,” one of them says, checking out my chest.
“Hi,” I reply, wishing I had a drink to throw in this guy’s face. I look around. Will and Sam are still arguing about pizza, Drew is texting like there’s no tomorrow, and Brian is chatting with the Winchester coach.
“Want to hang out?” the Winchester player asks.
“No, thanks,” I say, stepping backward.
“C’mon.” He gives me a smile that’s actually kind of cute. Too bad he already revealed that he’s a jerk.
“No.”
Out of the corner of my eye, I see Brian coming toward me.
“Fine. Another time,” Winchester guy says, and I’m thinking that’ll be the end of it, but now Will has seen Brian coming to my “rescue.”
“Parker?” Will calls. “You okay?”
Sam begins taking his bat out of his bag (oh my God, he’s so ridiculous!) and I’m about to laugh at these guys making a big deal out of nothing. Testosterone is powerful stuff, I chuckle to myself. I love how these guys have become sort of like a family to me.
“Leave her alone!” Paul Briggs shouts at the Winchester players. “She’s ours. She’s our team mascot!”
Team mascot! Does that mean what I think it means?
Will glances at me as my eyebrows furrow. “All of you on the bus. Now!”
The team rushes toward the parking lot. The two Winchester guys vanish.
Will grabs Paul by the jersey and says, “You owe Parker an apology. And if I ever hear you say something like that again, I’ll make sure Coach benches you. Got it?”
“Got it,” Paul squeaks out. He must outweigh Will by about a gazillion pounds, but he looks freaked. I’ve never seen Will Whitfield so pissed. Not even when I won valedictorian over him. When Dr. Salter called us into his office, to tell us the results, a sad knowing smile spread over Will’s face. He shook my hand, said congrats, and that was that. Today, fury fills his eyes.
“Sorry,” Paul mutters to me before escaping to the bus.
I don’t know what to do with my hands. I bite on my pinky nail, chipping the polish, and rock on my heels. Brian’s forehead wrinkles as he comes over.
“You all right?” he whispers.
No, I want to say. I feel alone. I thought you were different, but you’re not treating me like an adult. Like someone who matters. You’re treating me like a plaything. And a*sholes play both softball and baseball.
My eyes water. “I need to use the bathroom.”
Brian squeezes my shoulder and nods. I brush his hand away from me and go into the bathroom to find a toxic warzone. Gross. No way I’m using that. I step back out of the bathroom and see Brian and Will in a hushed conversation, so I decide to eavesdrop on them from around the side of the building. I tiptoe over.
“You showed great leadership today,” Brian says to Will. “Taking care of Parker like that. You’re a good captain.”
“She’s a nice girl. She doesn’t deserve that.”
“What did Paul mean when he called her the team mascot?”
Will pauses. My heart pounds. “Uh, she’s hooked up with a couple of guys on the team.”
Holy mortification.
“Really?” Brian asks.
“Yeah,” Will says quietly.
“But not anymore, right? It wouldn’t be good for the team if she’s dating a player—”
“She’s not dating anyone,” Will interrupts. “She told me herself.”
Brian hesitates before asking, “Are you into her?”
“Why?”
“I’m your coach. I should know if there could be any potential problems down the line.” He’s jealous.
“Nah. She’s not my type. I’m not interested in a girl like her.”
My heart putters to a stop, and a clammy feeling rushes over me and settles in my stomach, hollowing it out.
Will Whitfield couldn’t be interested in a girl like me…
Figures.
I turn and sprint back to the bus, my Converses smacking the asphalt. I climb the steps and curl up in my seat. I slip earbuds into my ears, turn on my iPod, and let the Rent soundtrack steal my thoughts. Let it erase the hurt. As if it could. My chest heaves in and out. Someone taps my knee. I open my eyes to find Drew slipping into the seat next to me. I pull my earbud out.
“What’s wrong?” he whispers.
I turn to stare out the window, hating myself. “Everything’s normal.”
???

Drew invites me over after the game. He makes himself a PB&J. Sitting on a bar stool at the counter, I eat some celery with a bit of peanut butter.
He raps a knife on the counter like he’s a woodpecker.
“Why are you so nervous?” I ask, biting into my celery.
“I, um, well…”
“Out with it,” I say before swallowing.
“Tate asked me to play mini golf in Nashville tonight.”
I squeal. “Really? Did you say yes?”
Drew bites into his sandwich and chews. He takes another bite, and my grin fades as I wait. I dip my celery into the peanut butter.
“You just double dipped your celery into my peanut butter!”
“Stop evading the question,” I reply, chewing and double dipping again.
“I said yes,” Drew says quietly. He studies his socks. “Please don’t tell anybody.”
“I won’t.”
“Especially not Corndog.”
“You got it. So you and Tate have been talking…?”
“Mostly messaging on Facebook.” He takes another bite of PB&J. “It’s good…it’s good to know someone like me. It’s good to have a friend.”
“I’m glad.” I can barely sit still I’m so happy for him. “Do you think you’re interested in anything more with him?”
Drew’s face goes all distorted. “Why are you so interested in what I think of Tate? Is it because of Corndog? Because if I don’t like him, you can?”
My chest hurts. My face flushes. “Drew…please…”
“Sorry,” he murmurs, opening the fridge and grabbing the milk to pour himself a glass.
I set my celery on my plate and try to ignore the guilt rushing through me. I vow not to tell Drew about baby-sitting with Will tonight, because he’ll never believe it’s a just-friends thing.
I can have a secret relationship that takes place in a Ford F150 with a guy who’s six years older than me, or I can admit my feelings for Will, a boy who’s not interested in a girl like me, and lose my best friend in the process.
Or I can be same ole, same ole.
I take a bite of celery sans peanut butter.
???

Will opens the front door, and the edges of his mouth slide into a grin. Those blue eyes drop to mine, and he invites me inside the farmhouse that’s been in the Whitfield family for something like five generations. “Bo’s finishing dinner,” he says, taking my jacket to hang it in the closet. “You hungry?”
I wave a hand. “I’m good. Where are your other brothers?”
Will leans against the doorframe. “Rory went to a movie, and Trey’s at a friend’s house.”
“So it’s just me, you, and Bo?”
“Yep. Come on.” He grabs my hand and leads me to the kitchen, where Bo’s playing with his food, dipping chicken nuggets into applesauce.
He scrambles out of his chair and into my arms. I bury my face in his neck, taking in his smell of crayons and juice. Will grins to himself and starts cleaning up Bo’s dishes.
“Hey, Bo,” he says. “Want to show Parker your birthday party stuff?”
I act surprised. “When’s your birthday?”
Bo looks to Will for help.
“You turn five on April Fool’s Day, right?” Will says, and his little brother nods. “When Mom called Dad to say she was in labor, he thought she was kidding and was way late to the hospital. I stayed in the delivery room until he rushed in at the last minute.”
“That’s sweet,” I reply, smiling, even though I’m kinda envious of his family.
“My birthday’s on April fifth,” I tell Bo. “Our birthdays are in the same week.”
I leave Will washing dishes and follow Bo to his room, where it looks like his mom has been working on invitations. “You’re having a baseball and dinosaur themed party?” He nods, and shows me dinosaur streamers and baseball party favors. Cute.
Bo plops down on the rug to play with Matchbox cars, so I kneel with him and drive a yellow racecar up onto his bed and back to the rug and then up my legs and arms. His mouth forms an O as he watches me.
Will appears in the doorway. “How about a movie?”
“Is that what you want to do?” I ask Bo, who nods. He sure does a lot of nodding. I read online that people with Asperger’s usually have repetitive quirks.
Will brings apple slices and cheese, and I carry Bo down the steps to the basement and soon we’re watching School of Rock, ’cause Bo loves the music. He likes to say “gee-tar” over and over.
Will sits on the cushion right next to me, and Bo wedges himself between us, and after eating his cheese and apple, he promptly falls asleep against Will’s side.
“He’s adorable,” I say, gently mussing Bo’s brown curls.
“Thanks,” Will replies, focusing on the screen. “I love him.”
Bo lets out little snores. “I can see why.”
“You’re one of the only people he’s ever spoken to.”
I touch Bo’s tiny hand and study his fingers. “That’s so sad.”
“Mom and Dad are pleased he likes you.” Will glances my way. “It’s hard for them.”
“They’ve got you and you’re great. That’s gotta count for a lot.”
“You’re pretty great yourself,” he murmurs, but I pretend not to hear. This afternoon, he told Brian I’m not his type. Would he lie about that? He doesn’t know about me and Brian. Could Drew have mentioned something about me and Brian, to keep Will away from me?
No. No way Drew would do that. I want to ask Will what he’s thinking, but I can’t betray Drew. So we sit here with only a little boy separating us. My life is a twisted pretzel.
“You’re going to Vanderbilt, right?” Will asks.
“Yeah.”
He chews on a thumb. “Remember how you said on the way to church, how you wished we had been friends before now?”
“I meant it.”
“I never did understand why you started ignoring me. I mean, I’m a dork and you’re beautiful but you were always so nice–”
“You’re not a dork.” I take in his blue eyes. “I stopped talking to you because of Laura. She liked you, and I didn’t want to get in the way of that.”
Will’s mouth falls open. “Naw, I know she didn’t like me. Not really.”
Damn, he’s observant. “What school are you going to?” I ask, changing the subject. “Harvard, right?”
He kisses Bo’s head. “My great-grandparents started a trust fund for me, before they died, but I’m giving the money to my dad for Bo. So he can go to therapy and a special school.”
“What? Can your parents, um, not affo—”
“Things have been hard on the farm lately. Gas and water prices are up and sales have been down…It was a hard winter. I’m going to college somewhere nearby where I can get a full ride instead.”
“You’re all right, Will Whitfield.”
That’s when he slides an arm across my shoulders. “I’ve been giving Vandy serious thought. I’d be close to the farm and my parents and Bo…and you’d be there too.”
“Yeah,” I say before thinking, glancing at his face, which is focused on me. Holy seriousness. He must’ve told Brian he’s not interested in a girl like me because he doesn’t want me to have to stop being manager. “It would be nice having a good friend on campus,” I add quickly.
Will’s hand is warm on my shoulder. He rubs the side of my neck with his thumb, and it feels so good I shut my eyes and concentrate on not making a sound. And then I’m thinking about how he’s a virgin and how I’d love to learn what making love feels like with him, as friends, as partners, with someone who listens to me and cares. We’d do it in our own time.
As soon as the movie ends, I make my excuses and ride my bike home, where I’m alone except for text messages from Brian asking where I am and if he can come over.
The irony. I finally found a boy, Will, a boy I’m willing to risk everything on, to risk breaking my heart, but I stay still. Unmoving.
???

Dad studied architecture at UT Knoxville, where Mom played softball.
When he was a boy, he loved poring over floor plans in house catalogs. He still loves reading those magazines today. He wanted to design homes and skyscrapers and bridges, but ended up working in the housing office at Franklin City Hall. And he’s fine there, because they pay him pretty decently and he doesn’t have to work terribly long hours. He had the opportunity to watch Ryan and me grow up. Mom got to stay home with us instead of having to work.
I remember taking a trip to Asheville, North Carolina, when I was twelve, and Dad was so excited to point out his favorite parts of Biltmore, this huge estate where the Vanderbilts once lived. He loves showing me diagrams of things like the Chrysler Building and the Shanghai Expo. His favorite building ever is the Pantheon in Rome, but he’s never been there.
He’s never been there because he saves all his money. He doesn’t want Ryan to work while he’s in college. He doesn’t want me to either. Dad’s made a lot of sacrifices for me and my brother.
If there’s one thing I want, God, it’s for Dad to take a trip to Italy. I want him to explore the Vatican and see the sculptures at the Medici Chapel in Florence. I want him to study the Bridge of Sighs in Venice.
I want so much for my father, Lord, because he wants so much for me.
Written while tucked under my covers on March 7. Burned.
???

When I don’t answer his texts, Brian calls my cell.
“Can we get together?” he asks, sounding upset. I can hear a hockey game in the background. Maybe he’s watching the Predators on TV?
“I’m sick of being in your truck.”
“Yeah?”
I whisper, “I deserve more than that.”
He hesitates for a long time. “I want more, but I don’t know what I can give you right now.”
Will, Will, Will. I want him. Just thinking of him makes my skin tingle, and I keep reliving that afternoon we spent napping in my bed. Wondering what might’ve happened if we’d kissed. I doubt we’d be close like we are now. It’s like relaxing during a long snow when the streets are so covered with ice, school closes. Things with Will have been sorta delayed. I’ve gotten a chance to settle in, to get to know him for him, and him for me.
Wild to think that, a couple of weeks ago, I wanted Brian bad. And I’m not sure I do anymore. Admitting this, I feel stress pulsing through me. And it’s not only because of Will that I’m thinking this way. It doesn’t feel right.
“Maybe we should be friends?” I ask Brian, my voice shaking like crazy.
“Come on, Park,” he murmurs. “We’ve got something.”
“But…”
“Yeah?”
I summon some courage. “I want you to listen to me when I talk. I want to do something other than sit in your truck. Am I even your girlfriend?”
He clears his throat. I listen to the hockey game in the background. “You know I like you and want you, but we can’t date for real.”
“Okay, well I guess that’s it then. I’ll see you at practice Monday,” I say, and as Brian tries to interrupt, I quickly add, “Bye” and hang up.
I’m proud of myself for doing that.
Aaron Pritchard and Matt Higgins and other guys had a thing for me, but I treated their feelings like they didn’t matter, believing that guys don’t mind one-night flings. I thought I liked Brian seriously. But the way he’s treating me sucks. Shame fills my heart, when I think of the guys I used to prove that I’m not like Mom.
???

On Sunday evening, Drew lets himself in the front door, carrying a bowl of popcorn and the Half-Blood Prince DVD. We decided to have a Harry Potter movie night at my house, because his mom recently started dating this guy, Otto.
Otto always wants to play dominoes. Drew and I have nothing against dominoes, but Otto takes the game very seriously and rolls his eyes when we start building fortresses and then knock them down with a catapult made out of a spoon and a salt shaker.
We curl up on the couch, and he lets me lean against him. Television light brightens the dim room.
“Ginny Weasley sure grew up to be a saucy minx, eh?” Drew asks, shoving a handful of popcorn in his mouth.
I’m grinning. “So did Neville Longbottom.”
“You think Neville Longbottom is a saucy minx?”
“No, no. He grew up to be kinda cute. So did Ron.”
“Don’t you think Draco is hot in an evil way?”
“No way,” I say, shoving Drew with an elbow. “He must spend hours a day gelling his hair. I could never date a guy who spends so much time on his appearance.”
“I bet Coach Hoffman spends a lot of time on his hair. It always looks perfect, even if he’s been wearing a cap.”
“We’re not dating.”
Drew turns to look at me, giving me a hard stare that says he doesn’t believe me.
“It’s true,” I say quietly. “I asked if I was his girlfriend and he said we can’t date for real. I guess he only wants to fool around.”
“Is that what you want?”
“Not really.” What I want is a two-way relationship. “I hung up on him last night after I basically said I’m not hooking up again until he lets me have a say in what we do.”
“Good for you.”
“But it sucks because I thought he really liked me.”
Drew pauses the movie. “Some guys are straight-up jerks. You can’t do anything about that.”
“He’s not a total jerk…” He’s confused and down and wants to stay young. Nothing wrong with that, but I wish he would consider my feelings more.
Drew puts an arm around me and whispers, “Did you do it with him?”
I shake my head. “He said he wanted to when I turn eighteen. But I’m not ready for that. With anybody.”
“I wish I’d waited…To have sex, I mean.”
“You regret doing it with Amy?”
He hesitates. “I love her. But I want to sleep with someone I’m in love with.”
“How was mini golf?” I’ve been dying to know how Drew’s date thing went last night. I couldn’t get any details out of Tate this morning at church.
He stuffs a handful of popcorn into his mouth. He smiles a little. “It was good. I won by a landslide. I have no idea why someone so not athletic would want to play mini golf.”
I snorggle. “Maybe that’s why he wouldn’t give me any details.”
Drew glances at me sideways. “He didn’t mention me?”
I get the feeling that, if not for Drew, Tate never would’ve said anything to me about himself, about his life. He seems kinda private. “He didn’t say anything. But he smiled when I brought you up. Are you going to see him again?” I’m excited for my friend.
“We want to get to know each other.” He blushes. “I haven’t even told Mom about me yet…Hey, listen. Corndog looked at my article about if the Braves should make a trade for a new bat in the middle of the order. He said he loved it, but gave me some edits. Can you read it to see if you have ideas on how to make it stronger?”
“Yeah, no prob—”
The front door opens, and Dad walks in. He says hello to us and pats my head softly.
“Were you out with Veena?” I ask, turning to hang over the back of the couch.
“She’s hot,” Drew says, chomping on popcorn. “I saw her out the window when she came over to your place last weekend.”
Dad’s face turns pink. “I don’t think we’re going to see each other again.” He says it matter-of-factly and makes his way toward the kitchen. Drew and I exchange looks.
I leap to my feet and follow Dad. “What? Why? Did you have a fight?”
He opens the fridge. Bright white light tumbles out. “Jack Taylor mentioned his wife is concerned about my relationship with Veena.”
“So?” Mrs. Taylor used to be Mom’s friend; you can guess how that turned out.
Dad stares inside the refrigerator. “She and Jack don’t think I should be off dating a younger woman when I should be taking care of you and your brother.”
“What? We don’t care. We like Veena!”
“That’s not the point. This isn’t the right time for me to try dating again.” He sighs heavily, and rubs his eyes with a finger and thumb. He can’t really believe that!
“We want you to be happy!”
He pulls out the orange juice. “It doesn’t matter what I want.”
“That is such bullshit,” I exclaim.
“Watch your mouth.”
Ryan appears in the doorway, wearing jeans and a T-shirt. He got a haircut yesterday and now looks a lot more like he did pre-Vanderbilt. I can’t help smiling.
“What are you arguing about?” he asks.
“Dad broke it off with Veena,” I reply slowly.
My brother is silent, but sadness takes over his face. He turns and leaves the kitchen. His bedroom door shuts.
I close my eyes, lean my head against the wall and pray to God, to anyone who might be listening, to please help me. Please help my family. Hasn’t our church taken enough from us?
And now they have to take our new happiness too?
Why?
Why is Dad letting these people factor into his happiness so much? Why do we care? We can’t control what those a*sholes say, but we can ignore them. If we were to just forget them and focus on God, would everything be better?