Page 36 of Fake Dates and Home Plates
“Sadly, I don’t think it’s an option,” I say regretfully.
We sit in silence for a few minutes, their video game forgotten.
“If we can’t fuck him up, we need to find a way to fuck with him,” Ezra announces.
He’s a sophomore, but he fit in with us easily when he joined the team as a walk-on last season. He’s a damn good shortstop, and his batting average is insane. Despite not having much field time last year, he stayed dedicated, and I’m almost sure he’ll be in the starting lineup this season.
With all his body art, plus that he rides a motorcycle, he has no trouble scoring off the field either. Ezra’s brought around so many different people, we can’t keep up anymore.
Lukas grabs his phone and starts scrolling through it. “He seems like a player who believes in superstitions. There’s got to be something we can find.”
It only takes him a few seconds before he’s showing us his screen. “His lucky bat.”
I remember that now. He’s talked about it at parties before. It’s the same wooden bat he’s had since Little League.
Bash slaps a hand on the arm of the couch. “That’s right. I heard him telling someone once that it has to be in the dugout while he’s playing, but it stays in his locker to keep it safe. I bet it’s there now, even though training hasn’t started.”
All my teammates are looking around the room at each other then back at me. Wherever this is going is either borderline insane or completely fucking illegal. Possibly both.
“So we steal the fucking bat. There’s probably no one at the field, considering it's nowhere close to the season,” Ezra says with a manic look in his eye.
Bash and Lukas immediately agree, all in on the plan, but I’m hesitant.
Dakota is already acting unhinged, and this could cause him to lose it. He seems like the type to check up on his things regularly and would notice it missing sooner rather than later.
But also…he deserves it. If his behavior escalates, maybe we can just beat the hell out of him and call it a day.
“They probably have cameras everywhere; we’d be caught eventually,” I say. It should be obvious.
They all roll their eyes, disappointed in my logical contribution. Clearly, being the voice of reason is inconveniencing their criminal plans.
“I might have something that can help with that,” Bash says as he jumps up and gestures for us to follow.
When he opens the door to Sunny’s room, we all protest, but he waves us off. “It’ll be fine. When I tell her why we were in her room, she’ll be thrilled. She’s been talking about inviting Henley over for dinner since game night. Pretty sure she’s obsessed with your girl.”
Great.
I actually love the idea of my friends liking mygirlfriendand wanting to hang out with her, but the idea of sharing her limited time—that, I don’t like so much.
I’ve never seen Sunny’s room before. When they host, her door is almost always locked, and we’re all forced to use Bash’s bathroom. I’m not sure what I expected.
I’ve known the girl just as long as I’ve known her brother. I’ve gone to the mall with them and watched her pick out girly shit to decorate their apartment. I’ve seen her screech over a spider then cry when Bash tried—and failed—to kill it with his shoe.
But I’m completely thrown off guard by her chosen bedroom decor.
The walls are painted a matte charcoal, though you can barely see it, because horror movie posters cover almost every inch. On the bed, there are throw pillows with popular scary movie villains' faces.
“What the fuck?” Ezra voices for all of us.
“Sunny is a bit of a horror movie enthusiast. You name it, she’s seen it. Even if it’s terrible or a spoof, she will watch it,” Bash explains. “Our parents had her see a therapist in elementary school because the only way she could go to sleep was by rewatching the same slasher film every night for three months.”
I don’t think I’ll ever look at the girl the same again. I might be a bit frightened of her now.
“Now help me look through these boxes. She’s bound to have some costumes and masks in here somewhere,” he says as he grabs a plastic tote labeled ‘props’ from the top of her closet.
I’m reaching for the next one when I hear a scream. I’ve never heard a guy make a sound like that, and I immediately assume someone’s been stabbed by a prop knife Sunny must keep around for shits and giggles.
Turning around abruptly to see what’s happened, I nearly drop the tote on my head.
