Page 64 of To Have and to Scold

In a break between sets, where Beck’s team, Busta Spike, narrowly beat their opponent, Portia places a hand on my shoulder. “I’m working on an email to you with a bunch of sample photos of things I’d like to use in the wedding.”

“Great. I’ll look over it tonight.”

“You don’t have to. It’s outside of working hours. You and Billy should just hang out.” She winks and flips her long, shiny black hair over one shoulder, her smile lighting up her face.

I decide to ignore the Beck slash Billy comment, mostly because I really wish that I could do just that—hang out with him tonight. “Girl, work is fun for me. I’m going to love poring over your ideas and seeing what finishes we can find that will work. Besides, we’ve got to get going. There are only three months until the big day.”

She flashes a bright smile, showing her even, white teeth. “I’ve always wanted a short engagement, although it does make it harder to plan everything. That’s why I don’t want anything too elaborate. It has to be about us as people, you know?”

“Definitely.” A feeling of apprehension stalls me for a moment. It’s not lost on me that Beck’s brother’s wedding is a big deal. I need to get this right.

“That is the most important thing, Portia,” I continue. “And it will happen. We’ll pull it all together.” A little pep talk I’ve made a hundred times, but this time it’s sitting heavy on me because it’s Beck’s relatives.

The next set, Beck’s team loses and Leo, who’s arguably the best on the team, is getting heated. Like, he’s actually red over his sunburn, and he’s sweating under his sandy head of hair. But there’s another vibe going on, too, and Beck can sense it. He’s staring at Leo like he has to decide whether or not to pull him from the game and bench him.

During the break between sets, Beck takes Leo away from the rest of the team for some serious and businessy coach talk. I can’t tell exactly what he’s saying, but it’s intense, whatever it is, and Leo’s only staring past him, no sign of recognition on his face that he even hears anything.

Elliott chuckles. “Billy’s gotta remember this is teen beach volleyball, not the Olympics.”

“I appreciate the passion,” I say, before I realize what I’ve said. “For the game,” I add hastily.

Both Elliott and Portia give me side-eye.

I deserve it for saying something like that, but I still squirm under their gaze.

Busta Spike ties the third set, putting them into a sudden death situation. At least I think that’s what’s happening. All I know is there’s this big weighty cloud over everything, an intensity amongst the players and crowd.

My attempts to figure out what’s going on falter, but then it’s over, and from the groans of the parents as the team lines up to shake hands, I fear the worst. “They lost, right?”

Portia laughs. “Pretty sure, yes. I’m not well-versed in beach volleyball.”

“Me, neither! Man, this whole time I thought I was the only one who didn’t know what was going on.”

She slings an arm around me and laughs. “Next game, we’ll commiserate together.”

And I don’t know what’s wrong with me, maybe the phantom of Beck’s and my little human-shaped forms that I swear are still there in the sand, but I actually feel a little sentimental over that comment from Portia. Like I somehow belong here…like I belong in the Billingsleys’ lives.

We approach Beck and his face is grave.

“Hey.” I hope my voice is kind, but not condescending or peppy. “You’ve got a good team on your hands. Sorry it didn’t end in your favor this time.”

His face is etched with concern, and he shakes his head. “It’s okay. Have you seen Leo?”

“I don’t know. He was here at the end of the game, right?” I swing my head around to look, and Elliott and Portia do the same.

“Yeah. But he beelined out of here right after shaking the other team’s hands. Something’s wrong.”

“It’s the first game of the season and a loss. He’ll be okay,” Elliott says.

“No, it was something from before. He came to the game like that.” Beck takes out his phone from his bag and types quickly. “His mom had to work late, so she couldn’t make it, but I’m texting them both. Maybe she’s heard from him.”

Elliott and Portia wait until he’s done texting before they talk a little more about the game.

After they’ve gone, Beck asks a couple of players if they know where Leo is and when they say no, he presses his phone to his ear, pacing, scanning the horizon. His concern is sweet, andI’m struck with the thought that Beck’s going to be a good dad someday. What I’m supposed to do with that knowledge, I don’t know. But he will be.

This thought somehow invigorates me. I need to help him find Leo. “Any luck?” I ask him when he puts his phone back in his bag.

He shakes his head. “He might have gotten a ride home from someone on the team.” He lets out a breath. “I’ll keep trying to get ahold of him. I’ll go to my place and see if he turns up.”

---