Out of My League - Sarah Sutton Page 0,93
in a little after you left. He doesn’t talk about that kind of stuff with me much—he says it’s inappropriate—but I think he’s just nervous I’ll disapprove.”
“Do you? Disapprove of him dating?”
Edith flipped on her blinker as she slowed down at a stop sign, her tires squealing as she cut across the pavement. “No, I don’t. I think it’s good for him. It’s been almost a decade since Mom died—he needs someone to keep him company.”
“And…Zach? Did you ever find out if he’s with Celia?”
I watched as Edith tensed, but she tried to shake it off by shifting in her seat. “They’re not together, but they do hang out sometimes, which is probably not a good sign. But Zach and I…we talk here and there. We talk until it’s late sometimes, but the other night was the first time he’s come over. It’s…I don’t…” Edith took a long breath and let it out. Color flooded into her cheeks, and I watched her try to turn her face away to hide it. “We’re just friends.”
My lips curved up a little bit, and I nudged her. “Just friends?”
“Just friends,” she repeated, swatting at my hand. “For now. And that’s okay.”
“For now,” I echoed, crossing my fingers.
This time when she glanced at me, there was a gleam to her eyes. “I mean, who knows what the future holds?”
Edith took the last corner that led to the baseball park up town, slowing down for a flow of pedestrians crossing the street. A lot of them carried fold-up chairs and soda bottles, either wearing Bayview’s colors of purple and gold or the opposing team’s green and white.
But they weren’t walking towards the baseball field—they were walking towards their cars.
“What’s going on?” Edith asked, glancing toward her dashboard. “The game is supposed to start in five minutes. Why is everyone leaving?”
“It couldn’t have been rained out, right?” No way it’d rained that much today. It was just a sprinkle, really.
“I wouldn’t have thought so.” Edith eased her car over to the side of the road, pressing the unlock button. “Go see if you can find out what’s going on. I’m going to go park.”
I held my breath as I pulled my hood back over my head, grabbing my plastic bag and pushing out of Edith’s car. There was a line at the ticket booth, but as I got closer, I realized that the people in line weren’t paying for their tickets. The person behind the counter handed back five-dollar bills to those who stepped up.
Too busy watching the line, I didn’t notice someone cross my path until I ran into them, putting my arms out to catch myself. “I’m so sorry,” I said as I looked up, jerking when I met their eyes. “Mrs. Gao?”
Mrs. Gao smiled as she took a step back, and I realized she held a toddler’s hand. The girl was small, probably two or three, with dark hair and eyes. “Sophia, it’s good to see you,” Mrs. Gao greeted with a small chuckle, reaching up with her other hand to smooth back her hair. “What do you have there?”
My poster board made a sound when I slapped it close to my stomach, the plastic bag crinkling. “Something for a friend. What are you doing here? Aren’t you boycotting baseball?”
She lifted the hand of the toddler slightly, swinging it in the air. “Oh, not at all. I love baseball, and so does this little nugget here.”
The little girl giggled at that, snuggling closer to Mrs. Gao’s leg.
“But…what about baseball getting our program’s money?”
Mrs. Gao’s features softened a little. “That was the school board’s decision, not the team’s. They had no say in the matter. It’s not fair to blame them, is it?”
I swallowed hard when she finished speaking. Her attitude towards everything did make sense. Yeah, baseball got a lot of unfair perks, but Mrs. Gao was right. They had no vote in cutting the newspaper. That was all the school board.
All at once, my resentment toward the baseball team felt really, really ridiculous.
“How is your take on the Back to School article coming along?” she asked.
A small pinch took home behind my ribs at her words, but it wasn’t necessarily painful. More resigned. I could’ve told her about the baseball article, about how I had it finished on my desk just yesterday. That it was perfect in format, great in detail. I could’ve even told her how I spent my entire summer working on it, finding out new ways to perfect it.