Page 22 of Betting on Lizzie

“I wasn’t always so tough.”

“What do you mean? Have you been in the same situation?”

The conversation was derailing to somewhere Lizzie didn’t want to go. Especially with a teenage stranger. In all her years of dating, she’d kissed a lot of frogs. And every once in a while, one of those frogs would get too handsy and not want to take no for an answer. She’d learned some self-defense moves and how to talk tough. And though she’d never been in real trouble, the skills came in handy occasionally.

“You know how scar tissue makes the skin tougher? Well, let’s just say, I have some scars. You gotta be careful who you hang out with.”

“I know. And I will be from now on.” She paused for a second. “Bella says you date a lot of guys. How do you get them to ask you out?”

Lizzie could tell there was something behind the question and trod carefully. “You like someone at school?”

Maya nodded. “And he doesn’t know I exist. Well, I mean, he knows I exist. But he runs in different circles and goes out with girls different from me. Cheerleaders. Girls that like to party.”

“Maybe he’s not the right boy for you then,” Lizzie said. “Any time you’re tempted to act differently or do something you wouldn’t or shouldn’t to get a boy’s attention, you should rethink it.”

“Yeah, you’re right. So, how do you know when someone’s right for you?”

“Pft. If I ever figure that out…”

“Is that why you date so much? You’re trying to find who’s right for you?”

She wasn’t about to get into her insecurities and reasons for never getting serious. “I’m just looking for someone who doesn’t bug the crap out of me after three dates.”

Maya laughed. “That sounds reasonable.”

They talked about school, basketball, holiday plans, and other innocent topics until they arrived.

“My dad got stuck at work and is still fifteen minutes out,” Maya announced after checking her phone. “Can you come in with me?”

“Well, I’m not gonna leave you on the curb.”

They lucked into a parking space right next to the ER doors, and she helped Maya in. Only one other person was in the waiting area, so they were immediately escorted to a room.

Lizzie told the nurse that Maya’s dad would handle the paperwork once he arrived. She was just there for moral support. They brought in an X-ray machine and took a picture of Maya’s ankle, which had swollen to the size of a cantaloupe and was the color of a Super Red Honeycrisp.

The nurse left, and she and Maya were alone, chitchatting, when Lizzie heard a strong, gruff voice asking for Maya Mansfield. Mansfield? The name sounded familiar. And just as she placed it, Ben strode into the room.

Lizzie’s eyes darted from Ben to Maya. “This is your dad?”

At Maya’s nod, Lizzie turned to Ben, narrowing her eyes and giving her best if-looks-could-kill glare. A flash of chagrin crossed his face before he glanced away.

“Honey, are you okay?” he said to Maya, taking a long step to be by her side.

“Yeah, Dad. I might miss the rest of the season, but I’ll be fine. It hurts really bad though, and they won’t give me any medicine till you tell ’em I’m not allergic. Will you go talk to them?”

Just then, a nurse came in, wheeling a cart with a computer on it. Lizzie took it as her cue to leave. “I hope you get better soon, Maya.”

“Thank you, Lizzie,” Maya said. “By the way, this is my dad, Ben.”

“We’ve met.” She turned and stormed out.

Halfway to the exit, she felt a warm hand on her shoulder.

“Lizzie, wait.” He sounded exasperated, like being caught was a burdensome hassle he couldn’t be bothered to deal with.

She spun around, crossed her arms, and raised an eyebrow.

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you Maya is my daughter.”

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