Page 86 of Wild Hit
A truly toxic one wouldn’t care, though. So does he?
I pull away enough to give him a false sense of relief. “So threaten me all you want, but if you come for my wife or my daughter, you’ll find out that I don’t threaten back because I don’t have brains for it. I sure have brawn, though, and I havea lotof big sticks.”
CHAPTER 31
AUDREY
Ilike that the armrests at this stadium can be tucked away. Thanks to this, Marty has her head on Consuelo’s lap, and her legs on mine as she takes a nap. It’s a mutually beneficial arrangement too, because Marty isn’t bothered about me propping up my popcorn tub on her calves.
“You guys look so at ease with each other,” Hope points out—with her lips—at the scene next to her.
She catches me in the middle of lifting a handful of popcorn toward my gullet. I pause to say, “I have terrible news for you two. Marty’s my best friend now. Not sorry.” Then I stuff my face with popcorn. The caramel kind, because I’m a monster.
Hope releases an exaggerated gasp. Rose leans forward for visibility and says, “How dare you betray us this way.” Even someone who doesn’t know us would see our silly grins and know we’re having a blast.
I lean a bit toward them, hoping that the stadium noise is enough to drown my voice. “Actually, she reminds me a lot of me when I was a kid. But she doesn’t have a cool older brother to amuse her, you know?”
“Not all older brothers are cool, trust me.” Hope shakes her head, but then she pats my shoulder. “But I get it, you’re trying to fulfill the role.”
“A little bit, I guess,” I admit as I chew, with an elegance previously unseen in these here WAG stands.
“Do you miss him?” Hope asks. The problem is that Miguel’s walk up song is starting to play, but his daughter is passed out, drooling on her nanny’s lap.
“Who?” I shout back.
It’s hard to understand when everyone around is yelling like they’re seeing Babe Ruth in the flesh, but also I get it. Every time Miguel Machado steps up to the plate, there’s a collective understanding that magic’s about to happen.
And if you’re in the opposing team, it jiggles your bones in fear. It’s fun. My brother would’ve loved to watch him play.
That’s when it clicks who Hope was referring to. I tear my eyes away from Miguel performing his jinx ritual. “I do,” I say at last. “Every single day. But it’s been so long that now I just miss him in the back of my mind. Is that bad?”
Instead of cringing, Hope bobs her head. “No, I get it. I feel similar about my mom, and I didn’t even get to meet her.”
“Ugh.” Rose leans forward again. “I can only hear bits of your conversation but it’s so freaking?—”
Whatever descriptor she was gonna use completely fizzles in the air as basically the whole stadium jumps to their feet. The most impressive part is how they still had even more gas in the tank to produce more noise. Marty jerks awake and honestly, I’m glad because I was gonna worry. Consuelo tosses me a wink, like she finds the whole thing amusing.
Marty swipes at her chin as she shifts to sit up, glancing around with one eye more open than the other. I can’t hear her but I know her mouth just formed the wordwhat?
Your dad, I voice back, not even sure if I tried to use my voice box at all.
She makes a face and goes back to laying down. I can’t help but howling at this kid. I have a feeling that even if she knew about all the other kids of all ages that line up to meet her dad, she’d still be bored about the whole thing.
And that sets off an unexpected eureka in my brain. They have such a good relationship. Marty’s not compelled by fear of her dad to fawn over him. He doesn’t demand anything of her other than doing her homework and being a good kid. Everything he does is in one way or another for his daughter, from ice cream to moving across the country so she stops getting bullied, including something wild like marrying a virtual stranger for her sake.
Marty’s not like me. She’s a blessed child, with a dad who deserves awards outside of baseball.
I notice that I’m smiling from ear to ear only when I take the next handful of popcorn to my mouth.
People start sitting down at last. Even when we’re so far, Miguel is so larger than life that he takes all the focus as he rounds the bases. His hand is raised, pointing upward. So that was a home run, then.
From two seats away, Rose asks, “Are you thinking what I’m thinking?”
“I am.” Hope shrinks a little. “But I’m worried that even thinking it is gonna jinx us.”
I need no explanations. I’m thinking the exact same. How incredible is it that someone like Miguel Machado came into our lives, into our team? It makes anyone start to dream big.
It makes even a girl like me start to dream about things she had forbidden from her life. Things like dancing in the rain and being held by strong arms that won’t ever let you fall.
