Page 2 of The Third Baseman

I needed to commit it all to memory.

One last time.

“Oh, Jupe! You did it. You did it! I’m so proud of you. A Dodger for life! You’re a Dodger now!” she gasped, tears glistening in her bright, emerald eyes.

Aurora Borealis green I’d told her once, after she’d explained to me what the Aurora Borealis was. She was so fucking smart; my smartest Star.

The tension I was carrying in my jaw was giving me a throbbing headache.

“Babe, are you okay?” Marnie reached her soft little hand up and tried to stroke my cheek, the way she knew I loved.

But this time I stopped her hand from touching me. If she touched me, I’d never be able to do this; go through with it. I needed to let go of her hand, but I didn’t want to.Couldn’t.

I needed to look away from her face, but I didn’t want to.Couldn’t.

She watched me roll my lips, furrows deepening on her perfect, smooth forehead.

I coughed away the tension in my throat, or tried to. “Marnie, we need to talk.”

That did it. I never called her Marnie. She was only ever Marn, only ever my Star. She stepped back; her eyes, which a minute ago had been glistening with love and excitement, were now filled with fear and confusion.

“Jupiter? What’s going on?” she asked, her quiet voice far steadier than mine. The terror in it, however, shot right through my heart like a poisoned arrow through an apple.

I coughed again, but there was no loosening the pressure. “I’m a Dodger now, and I need to think about my future.”

She began worrying at her lip, and it took all my strength not to pull it free from her front teeth.

“Okay.”

“My future doesn’t include you.” I struck the first blow, harder than any heavyweight could handle. “I’ve got a job to do now. I need to concentrate on me, and I can’t do it with you around. You’re too needy, Marnie. You’re clingy and you suffocate me until I can’t breathe.”

I studied her; it was possible she’d stopped breathing herself.

“It’s becoming embarrassing. Everyone at school’s been talking and I can’t bring this with me.” My heart ached from the lies I was spewing. “I don’t have time for a relationship. I don’t have time for you.”

Tears spilled thick and fast, too much for her to be able to see properly, but she didn’t wipe them away. She didn’t attempt to speak which made it easier for me to spit out the words I’d been rehearsing since last night.

I’d prepared.

I rarely won an argument with her, and I knew she’d want to counter any point I made.

She’d want to talk about long distance, tell me what she’d been planning without my knowledge.

And I couldn’t have that. I couldn’t have her ruining her future for me.

“We’re done for good. And when I pick a girlfriend, it won’t be you.”

The only way I knew she’d heard what I’d said was from the wince flickering across her horror-struck features.

“I don’t love you.”

It could have been a sharp intake of breath I heard, or it could have been the final crack of my heart, of my chest breaking open until its contents spilled out onto the ground.

Or maybe it was hers.

I stood there until I could bear it no longer and turned, walking away to the sound of her wail, followed by a thud as she slumped down onto her porch. But I didn’t turn around.

I heard the door open and Noah calling to her, but I didn’t turn around.

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