Page 57 of Curveball

“Prettier? You two are identical.”

She lets out a long breath. “Her outgoing, funny personality makes her prettier. Most people can tell thedifference between us because they’re just something extra about her. Only strangers can’t tell the difference.”

“I can’t answer that because you two look different to me. Neither being better than the other, and both drop-dead gorgeous.” I bite my lip. “Do you enjoy softball, Bails?”

“Honestly? Not like her. We both know I never would have been given a scholarship to play at a top softball school like UCLA if it wasn’t for Kam telling coaches she wouldn’t come without me. Don’t get me wrong. I love my sister. She has always stood up for me and looked out for me, but she’s the star.”

I start to speak but she holds up her hands. “I know I’m a good softball player now. Maybe even a great one—”

“Youaregreat.”

She gives me a small smile in gratitude before that smile turns almost Kam-like. “Do you know what she sucks at?”

“What?”

“Being around kids. It’s painful, yet equally amusing, to watch her struggle with little ones. You know what I’m really good at?”

“Being around kids?”

She nods. “Yep. I love it. I know it’s my true calling. It’s something I have that she doesn’t. Maybe I’ll stick things out with softball a little longer because being in the Olympics with you guys would be awesome, but I’m equally okay if that doesn’t happen for me. The three of you practically live for it. It’s your dream. It’s not mine. Softball is something I do, it’s not something I am.”

I’m considering her words when my phone buzzes with a text notification. The phone is on my bed, closer to Bailey. I nod at it. “Can you hand that to me?”

“Sure.” She briefly looks down at the phone as she handsit to me.

“It’s Quincy.”

Oh shit. I hope he didn’t say anything incriminating. I look down.

Quincy: Can you help me with something tomorrow?

That’s not so bad.

“Let me see what he needs. He’s probably been trying to get in touch with Arizona. She’s been on the phone all day.”

I begin typing.

Me: Sure. What is it?

Quincy: Get your sexy ass here at ten tomorrow morning. I have to be at the ballpark for our game by about three.

Me: Can you give me some details?

Quincy: Wear shoes that can get dirty.

Me: Please define dirty.

Quincy: Your mind is always in the gutter. Actual dirt.

Me: What the hell are we doing?

Quincy: You’ll see, Shortcake. Wear something tight.

Me: Why do I need to wear something tight if we’re getting dirty?

Quincy: You don’t. I just want to see you in it.

Me: You’re a dick. See you at ten. I’ll be in baggy clothes.

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