Page 10 of Call My Bluff
“Alright. You know what you’re doing?” he asked.
She put on the helmet. “Yeah.”
“Okay, then.” He held the gate open as the mechanical pitcher whirred to life. “Have at it.”
Olivia stepped up to where home plate was painted on the artificial turf. Noah pressed the button, and there was an audible click as a ball fell into place. She raised the bat to her shoulder and bent her knees. The first pitch flew through the air in a perfect arc, and she swung hard.
“Strike one!” he shouted. He leaned against the fence and hooked his fingers into the chain link above his head. She turned around, and he couldn’t help but grin at her obvious annoyance.
“Shut up!” she snapped, and she prepared for another pitch. The second throw followed the first in a beautiful curve, and she swung again. This time she tipped the ball, making contact but sending it behind the plate.
Noah cleared his throat with a strangled noise, trying not to laugh. “It’s supposed to gothat way,” he said, pointing toward the far end of the lane. Olivia turned and glowered at him from beneath the brim of her helmet, and he wisely shut his mouth.
She seemed to find her rhythm with the third and fourth pitches, sending them rolling back toward the wall as harmless grounders, and the fifth finally met her bat with a satisfying smack.
Noah watched it fly through the air and bounce off the wall with a thud. “Again?” he asked, already moving toward the console with his second token in hand.
“Again,” she confirmed.
She went through another five pitches, hitting all but one with a solid crack, and when the machinery wound down again, she ripped the helmet off her head with new light in her eyes.Several strands of damp hair clung to her cheeks, which were red with exertion, though somehow that only made her prettier.
“Why haven’t I thought of this before?” she said, panting slightly.
“You don’t have the same juvenile tendencies that I do,” Noah answered.
“Cheaper than therapy and more fun than prison,” Olivia echoed as she opened the cage door and walked through. She set her helmet on an overturned bucket, leaned against the fence and sank down until she was sitting on the concrete. Then she tipped her head back against the chain link, soaking up what was probably some of the last warm sunshine of the season.
Noah lowered himself down beside her and stretched his legs out across the sidewalk. “So, Big Brothers Big Sisters, huh?” he asked, nodding toward the logo on her shirt. “Is that for your major?”
“Sort of. I’m in social work, so any work with kids is relevant, but I’ve been a BBBS volunteer since high school,” she answered.
“Why?”
Olivia turned to look at him with a curious expression. “Why not?” she asked. “There are so many kids in the world who just need somebody to show up—somebody to cheer them on from the sidelines, listen when they need to talk, push them on the swings. If I can be that person, even once or twice a week, then I want to do it.”
Something warm surged through Noah’s veins. “So, you’re Super Pixie?”
She ducked her head with a soft smile, and Noah felt like he’d done something incredible. “Maybe,” she said. Then her face fell, and she let out a long, tired sigh. “But some kids have more problems than just listening can fix.”
Noah looked across the lawn where it stretched toward the arcade. A father and his young son had just exited the main building, and their matching orange T-ball shirts seemed to glow in the afternoon sun. A pang of longing pierced Noah’s chest as a memory flashed through his mind, and he could almost feel the impact of a baseball in the palm of his hand as he and his own father threw it back and forth in a weekend tradition that had lasted for years. Until, one day, it was over—that old glove discarded beside all the other things his dad had left behind.
“You’d be surprised what just showing up can do, Pix,” he said. “You can’t control what they go through at home, but you can make sure they always have someone in their corner.” He paused to clear his throat, pushing the words past a knot in his chest. “Just being around will do more than you’ll ever realize,” he finished.
Olivia didn’t answer for a moment. Finally, she gave a small smile and bumped her shoulder against his. “You know, there might be hope for you yet, Campbell,” she said. Then she seemed to pause and think for a moment. “Do you drink soda?”
He frowned, confused by the topic shift. “Umm, yeah. Doesn’t everyone?”
“Can you start keeping your can tabs? And maybe ask your friends, too? I need a whole bunch of them, like, a whole,wholebunch.”
He cocked his head. “Is this about a kid?” he asked, trying to piece the puzzle together.
“Yeah. And an owl and an art project.”
“Got it,” he replied, though he wasn’t totally sure he did. “Yeah, I can keep the tabs,” he agreed. Then a perfect segue popped into his mind. “Soif I’m collecting can tabs for you... does that mean I can have your number?”
She turned sharply and leveled him with a serious stare, though humor still danced behind her eyes. “I’m not going out with you,” she said firmly.
Noah felt his eyebrows go up. “Well, that’s irrelevant since I didn’t ask you out.”
