Deep Betrayal Page 0,24

ridiculous. Screw it. I needed air, at least air that didn’t smell like Pine-Sol.

Outside, a storm front was rolling in. It was the kind of weather that made me feel boxed in. I pulled on my running shoes and ran out the front door and up the berm on the far side of the road, through the pine forest, and along a well-worn deer path. There wasn’t any harm in this. It wasn’t like I was going to run into a mermaid out here. I wasn’t breaking any of Calder’s rules.

I picked up my pace, reveling in the feel of the wind against my face, until the path dipped into a mud-slick ravine and slowed me down. I crept down the steep slope, carefully inching my way along the edge, clinging to pine branches to keep my shoes semi-clean. I thought I was past the worst of it when I slipped on a patch of loose pine needles and had to catch myself against the trunk of a tree. A layer of amber-colored tree sap smeared against my palm.

As I looked for something to wipe my hands on, my eye caught a movement on the path ahead. I watched as a guy dressed in a dirty baseball uniform approached. He didn’t see me. His eyes were on his shoes as he kept track of his footing. Baseball cleats hung around his neck. He was about my age and not much taller than me, stocky, with brown, shiny skin—like an acorn—and gelled, spiky black hair.

He held his expression in a serious scowl, and when he got ten feet from me, he inhaled sharply and looked up with a panicked expression. Surprisingly, his wide, frightened eyes were a pale sky blue.

He said, “Whoa! You’re a long way from home.”

“I’m sorry,” I said. “Do I know you?”

He gave me a puzzled look. “Huh. Guess not. Thought you looked familiar for a second.” His face fell back into its serious frown, and he looked over his shoulder as if he were being followed. “What are you doing out here?” he asked.

I wanted to retort with It’s a free country, but just because he was impolite didn’t mean I had to be. “I thought I’d get some exercise. Go for a run. But the path’s a mess.”

The serious boy laughed, startling me with his volume, like I’d said the funniest thing he’d ever heard. I took a step closer, but my foot caught on a tree root, and I stumbled forward. I reached out to catch myself on him, but he leaned back, letting me fall in the mud.

“Careful!” he said. “Don’t touch me.”

“Geez, what’s your problem? Ah, crap, these are newish pants!”

“Listen.” He looked over his shoulder again, as I got back on my feet. “I’m not supposed to be talking to you anymore.”

“Anymore?”

“You know what I mean.”

Behind him, the muffled sound of voices grew louder. Then he whispered, “I gotta go. Do us both a favor and hide behind that tree. I don’t need my brothers to see you. They wouldn’t like it if they caught us talking.”

The approaching voices rose and fell with bits of laughter.

“But—”

“Go on,” said Serious Boy. “Hide.”

I ducked behind a massive cedar, muttering, “Whatever.” As ridiculous as I felt, something made me take Serious Boy’s advice. From my hiding spot, I watched as several boys with baseball bags slung over their shoulders made their way up the path. Their once-white pants were pulled up to their grass-stained knees.

“Too good to walk with us?” yelled one.

“That’s right,” said Serious Boy.

I peeked around the side of the tree and swiped at a bee that buzzed by my head. One of the boys turned around to look, and I ducked back before he saw me.

“What’s wrong, G?” Serious Boy asked.

“Nothing,” said the other. “Thought I heard something.”

“Quit being so jumpy. Maybe if you got your nerves under control, you’d stand a better chance of hitting the strike zone.”

“That’s big talk from Mr. Oh for Three.”

I listened as their feet sloshed away through the pine needles and last year’s leaves. When I thought it was safe, I snuck another peek, and found Serious Boy walking backward, thirty yards ahead but still looking at me. He shook his head and gave me a patronizing look; then he turned, talking loudly and forcing a laugh.

I watched until they were out of sight. After they were gone, I stood—baffled—behind the tree, wondering why I was hiding and why a gangly bunch of ballplayers posed any