Part 15 (1/2)

Xavier Will Be Here Any Minute I made sure his first meeting with Mom would be when Patrick was busy adjusting bands and wires on kids' crooked teeth.

Mom wasn't especially interested in my changing agents. Maxine has been good to us, and good for you....

”Mostly true. Except she just lost a huge contract because of personal problems.

I need someone who will always be there.

Just listen to what he has to say, okay?”

She agreed, and when the bell rings now, I let her answer the door. First impressions and all. She hides her stutter fairly well. Uh... oh... please, come in.

In Mom's world, Xavier Winslow is soap-opera fine. And all charm.

Not To Mention A Natural Flirt We sit around the kitchen table, and though I am the topic of conversation, Xavier is all about Mom. I can see where your daughter gets her beauty.

Did you ever model? No? What a shame.

You could have gone straight to the top.

Mom blushes and smiles and flirts right back. This is a mother I've never seen before, and it's all because this great-looking man is playing her so well.

It takes twenty minutes at least, but by the time Xavier is finished, Mom is beeswax, melting into his smile, and I have a new agent.

When I walk him to the door, he winks.

I'll call you next week. He slips a small bottle into my hand. The label says Meridia.

Sean

My Hand Has long been my dance partner. I learned the routine at eleven.

Early to the game, I guess.

Fifth grade is much too young to understand the nature of uninvited l.u.s.t.

It didn't even take visual stimulation, just the raw sensation of skin against cotton, and the memory is just as vivid as the real thing.

Okay, maybe not quite.

But there was something about the innocence- confusing as it was-that made those first clumsy explorations border on magical.

Used To Be I'd wake up every morning and have to spend several minutes doing the hand jive.

It's a guy thing, I know. But not really sure if it's because of something that went on in a dream, or just because of the Boy rubbing nice against those warm sheets.

Either way, it was a great way to start the day. But now I wake up limp as a worn sock. I've been tempted to test the v.i.a.g.r.a solo, just to see if things will still work.

But it seems like a waste of a roaring b.o.n.e.r if those pills do what they promise.

So I've been saving them up for a little (lot!) Cara action.

I'm Tired Of Saving Up I really want to see her, want to know what it's like to make love to a girl who I really love.

But lately I'm not sure what's going on with her. For the past couple of weeks, she's always had an excuse not to see me.

Homework. Prom committee meetings. Spring musical rehearsals. Granted, she has a lead, but still. Why should other stuff come before me? Yes, baseball practice has come first for me lately, but it's all for her in the long run. Why can't she understand that?

She did promise to come watch me play today, so maybe everything's okay.

Hope so. I've got plans for later.

Great Day For Baseball Well, it is a little cool, but h.e.l.l, it's barely March. At least the sun is out, and we're playing at home, thanks to outstanding snow removal efforts on the part of our grounds crew. Amazing, what industrial strength tarps and s...o...b..owers can accomplish. Not to mention shovels and brooms. I am stoked. Ready to kick a little Reno High a.s.s.

On the field for warm-ups, I notice a couple of things.

One: serious-looking guys in the stands with clipboards and radar guns. Scouts.

Can't know where from, of course. But they're there.

And two: Cara made it.

She's sitting with some girl I've never seen before.

Dark spiky hair. Cute, in a kind of Goth way. Cara points at me, and the strange girl smiles. Then they both wave. Nice. I wave back, still wondering who's sitting beside my girl, when Coach reminds me, O'Connell!

We've got a game to play here. Get your mind off the bleachers or go hit the showers. Some of the guys snicker, but mostly because they're jealous.

I glance at the scouts, one of whom seems to be looking my way. Get ready, dude.

First Inning Reno High goes down, one-two-three, thanks to outstanding pitching by Gary Bell. The scouts are doing some serious scribbling in their notebooks.

Our first two bats retire quickly too, but the third manages to slip one between the short and second baseman.

Cleanup. That's me. On the way to the plate, I peer up into the stands, hoping Cara will smile for me. But my good luck charm looks distracted.

Maybe even worried. Hmm.

Batter up! warns the ump.

Wonder what Cara...

Steeerike! G.o.dd.a.m.n it.