Chapter 9
MYLES
I sit in a chair beside Mrs. Humphrey’s desk, mindlessly hole punching a stack of papers she needs for her next class. It should be easy, something I’ve done a million times, but my hands shake as I shove the paper into the slot.
Mrs. Humphrey is cool, which is the reason why I wanted to be her TA in the first place.
She’s the kind of teacher who makes learning fun.
I’ve taken three of her classes since I started school here and we get along great.
She trusts me too, which only makes the knots in my stomach tighten as I glance at her while knowing what I’m going to do.
I have to steal the answers for Mallory.
Hot beads of sweat plow down my back. How am I supposed to find them with everyone here? She has twenty plus students inn the room, not to mention she’s like a hawk. She can spot a cell phone in a heartbeat.
I haven’t even stolen the answers and I want to throw up. I know there’s a high chance she’s going to catch me, but the alternative is somehow worse. I’m already risking so much already I can’t stop. If I don’t try, Mallory is guaranteed to blow up my entire baseball career.
Mrs. Humphrey stands in front of her whiteboard with a dry-erase marker in her hand. On the board she has Momentum written in big letters. Underneath it she has the equation: p = mv.
“So,” she says, drawing a car underneath the equation. “Let’s pretend this car is moving.” She draws some lines to represent wind. “To figure out the momentum we need to multiply the car’s mass by its velocity.”
I finish hole punching the papers and set them on her desk, scanning the area for anything that could give me a clue as to where the answers are. Her desk is organized with a folder marked sixth period, the class we’re currently in, next to her computer.
I’ve seen those binders plenty of times. She keeps them in a filing cabinet underneath her desk. There’s one for each of her classes, and if she has the answers to Mallory’s test anywhere, it’s probably there.
But it’s not like I can open it up and search through it in front of her and the entire class. I need to find a way to get to it when no one else is around.
Thomas’s hand shoots up into the air.
“Yes, Thomas.”
“But what if the car isn’t moving?”
“Then the velocity would be zero, which means . . .” She gestures for him to finish the sentence. “The momentum is?”
“I don’t know.”
If I wasn’t so stressed, I would’ve laughed because I swear Mrs. Humphrey just died a little inside. She takes a breath and turns to the whiteboard to explain what she’s already explained about seven times by now. She writes in giant letters momentum = mass x 0.
She taps the equation with the bottom of the marker and looks straight at Thomas. “So if this is your equation, what is the momentum?”
He shrugs. “I don’t know the mass.”
“You don’t need to.”
“Why?”
I think she dies a little more. “Because anything multiplied by zero is zero.”
“Oh yeah,” he says.
“So what is the momentum?”
“Zero?”
“Correct!” She’s a little too excited, but to be fair, she had to work way too hard for that answer.
The final bell rings and the entire class immediately starts packing up their things and talking.
“Don’t forget to write down your homework assignment. Your test is on Friday, and it’ll count for forty percent of your grade for the semester,” she says, pointing to the page numbers written on the corner of the whiteboard.
There’s a choir of groans that ensue.
“I’ve been reminding you all week, so don’t say I didn’t warn you,” she says, walking back to her desk. “I’m going to need a drink after this one.”
I stand up, but I don’t leave. I’m stuck, eyeing the file cabinet.
Mrs. Humphrey picks up the stack of papers I set on her desk. “Thank you for getting these ready. I’m sorry I didn’t have more for you to do today.”
I scratch the back of my head. “Don’t worry about it. I didn’t mind.” I preferred it that way since I don’t think I would’ve been able to focus on much else. I feel like I’m being pulled in a million different directions and torn apart.
“Is everything okay?” she asks.
My back stiffens. “Yeah, why?” I internally cringe at how tight my voice is.
She shrugs. “You’re just usually itching to get to practice right away.”
My eyes drift back to the file cabinet, needing to find an excuse to get her to leave but coming up dry.
“Do you not have practice today?”
I’m still standing here like a fool with nothing to say. I’m terrible at thinking on my feet, but I have to do something.
“I almost forgot to tell you, but Ms. Simon wanted to talk to you.”
Mrs. Humphrey’s mouth twists and her brows come together. “She did?”
I nod, heart speeding up as another lie leaves my mouth. “Yeah. I think it had something to do with the fundraiser at the end of the month.”
“Huh,” she says, tapping her chin. “I can’t imagine why she’d want to talk to me about that, but I’ll catch her on my way out.”
I rock on my heels and raise my shoulders. “It kind of seemed important.”
“Well, I guess it wouldn’t hurt to track her down now.” She stands, pushing in her chair. “I’ll walk out with you.”
Right. I have to walk out too.
I step forward, following her to the door. As soon as we step into the hallway, I say, “I better head to practice. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“I hope practice goes well.” She smiles and continues down the hallway in the opposite direction.
I take a few slow steps, but as soon as she turns the corner, I quickly walk back to the classroom.
My body is on fire, electricity shooting through me as my nervous system teeters on the edge of a total meltdown. I hold my breath as I head back to the desk. Every step is a blur, and my heartbeat screams in my ears.
“Myles?”
I whip around as a shiver ripples down my spine.
It’s Mrs. Humphrey.
“What are you doing?” she asks, tilting her head.
I can feel the redness of my face. “I uh—I forgot my phone.” I slide it out of my pocket. “But I got it now.” I tap it against my chin, not wanting to make eye contact to see if she believes me or not. “Did you find Ms. Simon?”
“No, I made it halfway there when I realized I left my key.”
She passes me to grab the red lanyard on her desk. “I meant to lock the door since my purse is still in here.”
I nod, but I stuff my hands in my pockets to hide how much I’m shaking. “That makes sense.”
There’s no chance of getting a copy of the answers today. Not when she’s probably already suspicious about finding me in her room.
As I watch her lock the door behind us, I feel my chance of playing baseball slipping through my fingers. Now, I only have one more day to figure out how to get Mallory the test answers.
I stand across from Sam, practicing pitching.
Sam throws the ball and I bend my knees, leaning to catch it in my glove. It hits the leather and I catch it like it’s automatic. I grab the ball and stand tall, raising my leg and winding up to throw it back. It flies through the air, way too high.
He reaches up, but the ball speeds past him, rattling off the metal fence. “Man, what was that?”
Heat rises to my face, and I hope the rest of the team didn’t notice how bad my throw was. I don’t usually miss, but for some reason I can’t seem to focus.
“Sorry, the ball slipped,” I say, fixing my stance to get ready to catch it when he sends it back my way. “I’m ready.”
Sam raises a brow. “You sure?”
Out of the corner of my eye I spot Coach in his navy cap and blue pullover sweatshirt that’s slightly too tight. He’s watching me with stiff posture.
I hold my glove up and nod at Sam.
He pulls his arm back and throws the ball. It comes quick, whipping through the air and straight toward me.
It’s supposed to land dead center into my glove, and yet on impact, the ball bounces out of my grip and onto the ground.
“Green, a word!” Coach yells.
I suck in a breath and bite my lip. I can’t afford to be making mistakes because it’s the first game of the season. I slam my fist into my glove, kicking myself for messing up right in front of Coach.
My head hangs low as I jog up to him.
“Green, what’s going on?” His hands are on his hips, and his square shoulders face me. He's a tall, large man who reminds me of a steel wall, towering over me and casting a shadow over my face.
“Nothing’s going on.”
“Then are you going to tell me why my starting pitcher is acting like he’s never held a baseball before?”
I can’t meet his gaze. It’s too strong. Too heavy. “I’m sorry, Coach. I’ve had a long day.” My face is scuffed and my body is bruised from Emma, not to mention how mentally exhausted I am from talking to her.
He rests his hand on my shoulder. “Listen, kid. I know how important this game is for you, but if you can’t perform, I’ll have no choice but to let Lukas start on Friday.”
“I can do it,” I say. I’ve worked so hard to be on the team again, and I refuse to blow this opportunity.
“Then show me.”
“Yessir.”
He pats my shoulder. “Get back out there.”
I have to clear my head and focus. He’ll be watching me for the rest of practice so I have to be perfect.
I jog back over to where Sam tosses the ball in the air, catching it repeatedly as he waits. “You good?”
“I’m good,” I say. My jaw tightens and I ready my stance. I won’t make another mistake today.
And I don’t. I throw every ball with all my might and I don’t let it show that I’m sore. My side burns where Emma kicked me, but I don't flinch. I stay concentrated and bury the pain because I refuse to let anything ruin this opportunity for me.
After about fifteen minutes Coach has us switch to hitting drills and then base running. By the end of practice I’m drenched in sweat and my pants are covered in dirt from sliding.
I quickly shower in the locker room and pull on a fresh T-shirt and faded blue jeans. I scrub my head with a towel to dry my sopping hair. My damp curls stick out in every direction. I run my hands through it, but I don’t think it does much good.
“What’s the hurry?” Sam asks, leaning against the lockers. He’s still in his soiled uniform and has a towel draped around his shoulders as he tugs on both ends.
I check my phone for the time and cringe.
“I’m already late for dinner,” I say, lifting my foot onto the bench near my locker to tie my shoe.
Sam groans. “Come on, man. Don’t tell me you forgot again.”
“Forgot what?”
He rests his head back on the lockers and sighs. “We’re all going to the premiere of Blue Vortex.”
I scrub my hand over my face. “Sorry. I totally forgot. Adam is barbecuing and I promised my mom I wouldn't miss it.”
I still haven’t gotten used to having him around even though he married my mom this past spring. I was so sure things wouldn’t get serious between them, but before I knew it, she was walking down the aisle toward a man who’d soon be infiltrating my entire life.
“Why did it have to be the same night as the premiere?”
“I know. I’m sorry, but I’ll make it up to you,” I say.
“Don’t worry about it.” His eyes cast down, and his shoulders shrug slightly. He’s been wanting to see this movie forever. He has all the comic books lined up, some framed, in his room. He loves that story like I love baseball, and my gut hurts that the premiere slipped my mind.
“You sure?”
He nods. “You better make it up to me, though.”
I grab my bag. “I will.” I start to walk backwards. “I’ll be around so much you’ll be sick of me.”
He laughs. “You better be.”
“I swear!”
He motions to the door. “Get out of here already.”
I dash out the door and run to my car, throwing my bag into the passenger seat.
My phone vibrates, and my stomach lurches as Mallory’s name shows up on the screen. Can’t I have one moment of peace?
She probably wants to know if I have her answers and the thought makes me queasy all over again.
I set the phone down and ignore her call.