Part 21 (1/2)

In my right arm. Right leg. Right side of my head. I try to move-have to.

I'm in the street. I think. Must move.

But some strange weight holds me in place. Don't move. Hands test my body. Conner? No. That was last summer. My eyes work hard to focus.

The hands belong to a lady. Don't know her. I don't feel any broken bones, but you could have a concussion. Stay right there. I'll call 9-1-1. But as soon as she lets go, I manage a sitting position. ”I'm okay.

Please. Can you just take me home?”

Sean

I'm Okay Everything I've believed in, smashed into the mud.

All I've worked toward, pulverized into dust. But I'm okay. Who wanted all that, anyway? Who needed an un.o.bstructed road to a tidy little future, when really the fun is in breaking trail toward some unknown destination? Any sane person would say you should not put every shred of hope in one human being, especially not a girl. The perfect girl, no longer mine. But, hey, I'm okay.

Wounded And I don't even know what the f.u.c.k happened. Everything was going perfectly. Graduating with a high B average? Check.

Playing top-flight baseball?

Check. Offered a scholars.h.i.+p to play Cardinal ball? Check.

Accepted into Stanford, an almost impossible goal to realize? Check. Best of all, after waiting for a year, after finding a way to make sure performance would not be an issue, being right there with Cara, both of us naked and hot and ready to go, finally having s.e.x with the girl I love more than life, only to be accused of rape? Check. And check!!

I Thought She Was Over It When she finally called.

Believed she'd forgiven me. How could I have been so wrong? About everything. I thought she loved me, too. How could I have given my heart to someone still-frozen?

Looking back, I see that she never felt about me the way I felt about her. Talk about one-sided affection. What in G.o.d's name do I do now?

Turn down Stanford? I could have gone east to school.

Some place far, far away from Cara. No, d.a.m.n it.

After all I went through to get in there, I'm going to Stanford. With or without Cara.

At Least She Didn't Publicly accuse me of rape.

Tomorrow will be a week since that night, and not one word has surfaced.

All things considered, I figured she might, if only to save face. Reputation is pretty much everything to Cara Sykes. And her standing with the in crowd has plummeted. b.i.t.c.h isn't the only one who has friends in high places. In fact, as of today, she doesn't have much in the way of friends.

Period. Maybe I went a little crazy, posting on Facebook and stuff. I kind of thought she might jump in and defend herself. But no. Not a word.

That p.i.s.ses me off more than anything. The f.u.c.king silence.

The least she could do is tell me what the h.e.l.l happened.

She owes me that much.

The worst thing is, she's all I can think about. School?

What's that? Oh yeah, that place I used to go where I actually became somebody once I started dating Cara.

Homework? Whatever.

I'll do enough to graduate, but why work harder than I have to? Baseball? Now, that's a problem of sorts.

I've accomplished what I set out to do, for sure.

But it bothers me that my bat has grown as cold as Cara.

On One Hand It doesn't really matter.

On the other hand, there are records at stake. I should be number one in the league.

And if I get it back together, I can still grab that t.i.tle.

I have to kick this b.u.t.t- rod pitcher's a.s.s. I need to remember just who the h.e.l.l Sean O'Connell is, with or without his girl.

I watch the windup, try to read the signals. Think about Cara, throwing off her s.h.i.+rt that night. Strike!

What? Wait. I didn't even see the ball. G.o.dd.a.m.n it. No! The pitcher leers- leers! Screw you, dude.

I've got your ticket. I wait for it... mind wandering to Chad's sofa, and smooth skin perfumed with desire.

And she's saying yes, touch me there, all wet.... Strike two.

d.a.m.n it all, O'Connell, concentrate. That fricking pitcher is a goon. I swear if I don't hit him this time...

he pulls back from his windup.

Trying to make me lose it again. No effing way, jerk.

He comes set, draws back.

It's a sinker for sure. A fast- ball is too big of a risk. He lets go of the ball. Here it comes. Fast. And straight.

And I swing right through.

And the G.o.dd.a.m.n umpire dares, Strike three. You're out.

And I Know I'm Out I am so f.u.c.king out. And I know the umpire is totally right, but at this particular moment, I couldn't give a d.a.m.n about right or wrong.