He walked out and Cade said, “You ready?”
She took her place center stage and he turned off most of the lights except for a spotlight right on her. The seats disappeared and she was alone in a sea of darkness.
“What song? I have all the recordings back here,” Cade called. “The nightmare sequence?”
She swallowed down the last of her tears. “‘People Will Say We’re in Love.’”
Chapter Thirty-Two
Kyle
Kyle headed to practice early, leaving most of the team joking around in the locker room. Seeing Faith in the hall this morning had rattled him more than he expected it to. He’d spent the rest of the day with his hood pulled up whenever he could get away with it, and his earbuds in. It didn’t stop him from hearing the rumors flying all around him, though, until he almost couldn’t take it anymore.
All he could think was, what have I done? He needed the green of the field to clear his head and set him straight.
On his way out of the locker room, a few guys were waiting outside the chain link fence surrounding the field. Cameron, flanked by two of his football buddies. The three of them were glaring right at Kyle, so they must be there for him. What a surprise.
Actually, it kind of was—the rest of the baseball team would be out any second. What did they think they could do to him on his turf? He decided to play it cool. “What’s up?”
Cameron leaned against the fence. “You need to stay away from Faith.”
Showed what he knew, but he wasn’t going to give Cameron a reason to think he pushed Faith away from him. “Yeah? And why’s that? Last I heard, she wasn’t taken.”
Out of nowhere, two more guys grabbed his arms from behind and slammed him into the fence. Cameron got in his face, glaring at him. “Because you’re not good enough for her. You know it, I know it. Leave her alone.”
Kyle struggled, pushing against the guys holding him, but they didn’t let up. The chain links from the fence ground against his face. “You don’t have a say. She’s her own person, asshole. She has the right to go out with anyone she wants. Or are you just mad she went after me?”
“You’re nothing but a loser, Sawyer.” Cameron poked him hard in the chest. “Leave her alone, or next time I’ll hurt more than your pride.”
“What in the Sam Hill is going on out here!” Coach shouted.
Footsteps pounded, and the guys holding him abruptly let go. The three guys on the outside of the fence ran for it, but Tristan had the other two by the backs of their shirts—underclassmen by the looks of it. They glared defiantly at him.
“Simons, Carrier.” Coach sounded disgusted. “I don’t know what that was about, but I have zero tolerance for fighting. If you paid attention in my history class, you would’ve remembered that.”
“We weren’t fighting, sir.” Simons jerked free of Tristan’s grip. “We were just talking.”
“With Sawyer slammed up against the fence?” Coach’s eyes lit up with anger. “Get off my field, both of you. I’ll see you in the principal’s office tomorrow—if you’re lucky, you’ll only get three days’ in-school suspension.”
“But—” Carrier said.
“Go. Now.” Coach turned his back on them, trusting the rest of the team to take care of the problem.
“You heard him,” Tristan said cheerfully. “Off you go!”
The rest of the team herded Carrier and Simons out the gate at the edge of the field, and many of them watched until they disappeared into the parking lot. A moment later, tires squealed.
Tristan turned to Kyle. “What, is Cam a Mafia boss or something? Or is he so afraid of you he had to bring four guys to keep you away from Faith?”
“How do you know that’s what he wanted? Maybe he wanted to kick my ass just because.” Kyle rubbed at his cheek. He’d have a weird octagonal bruise across his cheekbone tomorrow. That would be a tough one to explain to Grandpa.
Tristan rolled his eyes. “Warning off the guy who made out with his ex in public? I’d say it’s all about Faith.”
Kyle didn’t answer.
“All right, guys. Enough chitchat. We have a game tomorrow.” Coach checked his stopwatch. “Let’s do some sprint drills.”
Everybody groaned and lined up. Kyle took a few slow breaths. The adrenaline from the ambush still roared through his veins, so when Coach shouted, “Go!” he took off like a shot. Back and forth from home to first, touching the bases at each end, not counting how many turns, or seconds, or anything. He just ran, trying to focus his roiling mind.
“Stop!” Coach was shaking his head. “Sawyer, you made eighteen turns. Save some of that speed for tomorrow, kid. Starters, head out for catching drill. The rest of you are on the batting machine.”