A Stitch in Time Pt. 06

"Where's Tawny?"

I looked to my right, my gaze lingering on a very nice set of tits and then finally drifting upwards to look at the smirk on the face of Debbie Wadsworth.

"She wasn't feeling well. So I took her home."

"I'm glad you came back. Wouldn't be much of a party without the athlete of the week."

"I'm gonna get my picture in Sports Illustrated."

"I heard. Oh, shit, John's going to start in again. I wish I never started dating him. Gotta go, Trick."

I nodded, draining the last of my second beer. My eyes continued to drift, finally coming to rest on a pretty blonde, still wearing both pieces of her bikini, who was walking in my direction with two beers.

"Hi," she said when she got close enough for me to hear her soft voice. "Debbie said you might be needing another."

"Thanks," I relieved her of one of her beers. "Trick Sterling."

She laughed.

"No kidding," she said. "Kirsten Aaron. I'm in your sister's class."

I shifted my butt a little to the right so that she could sit her much prettier one on my left.

"Which one?" I asked.

"Jeanne," she laughed again. "I don't think anyone's in Jill's class."

I smiled at her. Pretty and clever. A devastating combination. Still, I had promised Tanya that shiksas were off limits, so I was more than ready for her next question, two beers or not.

"So you wanna hook up?"

"Thanks," I said, shaking my head in a manner that I hoped conveyed my eternal regret.

"I'm a cheerleader," she offered. "Just made varsity."

"Sorry," I continued shaking my head.

"Girlfriend?"

"Yeah," I answered. It was easier than the truth.

She leaned in to whisper in my ear.

"How 'bout I just blow you?"

I thought for a second, but ultimately decided that no, that would be breaking my promise, too.

She pouted.

"Then how about you do something for me?" she asked.

"What's that?"

"How 'bout if the golden arm meets the golden puss?"

I had no idea what she meant until she put down her beer and took my left hand, wrapping my left arm around her waist. Staring into my eyes, she pushed my hand underneath the waistband of her bikini bottom. My fingers slid through a thatch of sparse hair. She was already slippery, and I simply sat there and let her press my middle finger inside her. With her hand outside the bikini and mine on the inside, she began rubbing herself against me, or rubbing me against herself. She was in complete control, and after a few minutes, she moaned and gave a little shiver.

She released the pressure on my hand, which I took as a signal to pull it out. She leaned down again, and kissed me softly on the lips.

"Thanks, Trick," she smiled.

She picked her beer back up and took a sip.

"Nice place, huh?" she asked with remarkable casualness.

"Yeah," I gasped, taking another sip and looking around. This time my eyes lingered on the doorway to the rest of the house. Two girls were standing there, both of them topless, turned in profile as they talked to each other. They were both silhouetted by the light pouring from the room behind them, giving the entire pool room a look at their dueling breasts. The girl on the left had a smaller, higher pair, while the girl on the right had a much larger, lower set.

Kirsten sighed. I looked back at her.

"I wish I had boobs like that."

"Yours are very lovely," I assured her.

"Not as nice as Jill's," she nodded toward the doorway.

"Jill's?" I felt the hair on the back of my neck standing up.

"Your family just got all the genes, huh? Thank God she didn't go out for cheerleader."

I was staring at Jill, and then realized what I was doing and snapped my head back to look at Kirsten.

"So you sure I can't interest you in anything more?" she asked with a grin. "Something for you, maybe?"

"Uh, no," I said. "I have to be going soon, actually."

I watched her hips sway as she walked away from me, my mind racing at the thought of Jill being here. I decided to play it cool, so after I finished my third beer, I got to my feet and made my way back toward the kitchen. She was no longer in the doorway, unfortunately, and it took me another fifteen minutes of looking until I found her. She was sitting on a couch in the Wadsworths' den, giggling as Paul Scholl touched one of her nipples and then another.

"Scholl," I said sharply.

He looked up.

"Fuck off, Sterling. You're not entitled to claim all the pussy just because you threw one lousy no-hitter."

"I'm entitled to claim my sister, Scholl," I said as soberly as I could. His hands retreated to his own lap.

"My fifteen-year-old sister," I added.

"Sixteen in June," Jill sang out giddily.

"Hey, sorry, man," Paul stood up quickly. "It's just that she looks, like, you know..."

"Yeah," I said. He slipped past me.

"Where's your top, Jilly?"

She had no idea, so I just grabbed one from the kitchen and tied it on her. Then, not quite fully sober myself, I helped her to the car and got her home, driving no more than 25 miles per hour the entire trip. She was dead to the world when I pulled in the driveway, so I carried her upstairs and put her in her bed.

I decided to skip church on Sunday. For one thing, Jeanne was very likely to be there with Cammie, and I didn't want to look like I was taking sides. For another thing, I was going to have to have a talk with my youngest sister. Most importantly, though, I thought that God would probably prefer that I throw up in my house rather than His.

Chapter 21

The look I got from Tanya on Monday morning, when I claimed my seat in Religion, was one of pure contempt. Well, fuck her. I had already gotten the same treatment for Jill the day before. You'd think that after I had saved her from another asshole, albeit a much richer asshole than the last one, Jill would be a little grateful. But no, as far as she was concerned, she wasn't drunk at all, and if she wanted to parade around half-naked in front of strangers, that was her business. She was perfectly happy to talk with me about anything else, but she made it clear that the party was off limits.

The rest of Monday morning wasn't any better. Mr. Anson had assigned yet another history paper. We could choose any topic from 1900 through 1920, probably the most boring stretch of American History. Then there was another surprise astronomy quiz, and I knew for a fact that I hadn't aced it. Cammie told me after class that Jeanne was still taking her casting badly, and I dreaded having to talk to her at lunch. Dad had told me yesterday at dinner that the tension wasn't helping Tiffany any, and that he didn't see what the fuss was about, anyway. After all, weren't they both going to be in the play? Who cared who sang what?

I had pointed out, in all innocence, that if Dave and I were on the same football team and I'd been picked to be quarterback, Dave would be understandably upset. After he finished laughing at the idea of my being a quarterback, Dad just said that was different. He also told me to tell Jeanne he wanted the whole family back at the dinner table tonight. I kept my response to myself this time, which was, first of all, isn't that your job? And second of all, if you think the tension is bad now, just wait until Jeanne and Jill have to share a table.

So if Tanya didn't want to talk to me, that was fine. If she didn't want to sit at our table at lunch time, and instead preferred the company of her yearbook buddies, that was fine, too. As it was, I spent the whole time I was in the cafeteria arguing with Jeanne about coming home. It finally got so uncomfortable that we had to finish it outside in the school courtyard.

"Jeanne, you're going to have to rehearse with her, right?"

"Not if I quit."

"You're not going to quit."

"What makes you so sure?"

"I know you. You're not a quitter. You're gonna go there and glare at Jill for the entire rehearsal, and when she misses a note or a line, you're going to get this little smirk on your face."

She flushed a deep red.

"I'm a better singer than she is," she insisted.

"That may be," I said, watching her eyes narrow as I said it. "Look, I don't know anything about singing. Let's say you are."

"I am."

"Okay."

"It's not okay. You think she's better."

"I don't."

"You do. You think Collins picked her because she's better."

"And you think he doesn't care about how good the team is," I answered her.

"It's not a team," she retorted. "We're not trying to 'win.'"

"I know it's not a team," I agreed. Sort of. But Coach Torianni didn't have anybody playing because of who they were, or what he had promised them. If he could find a guy who could actually field second base, Coach would yank Eddie in a minute.

"Look," I continued. "All Dad wants is to have you back at the dinner table. I'm sure you can ignore Jill just as easily as you ignored me when you thought I was a sicko pervert back in January."

She gave me a crooked smile, her face suddenly softening.

"We were pretty mean, huh? Of course, for all you know, you could have been a sicko pervert before Christmas, right?"

"True," I smiled.

"What happened to Tanya, by the way? Why was she sitting with those girls?"

"We had a fight," I explained.

"About what?"

"I don't know yet," I confessed. Although I did have a pretty good idea.

That afternoon we had another home baseball game. I didn't have any fans there this time. Jeanne and Jill both had play practice, and Tanya simply didn't come. There were a lot of scouts, though, just as there had been at my two-hitter last week. And I gave them a pretty good show. I couldn't pitch, with only three days off since my last game, but I went four-for-four at the plate, with a double and a home run. Just like last week, though, what we lacked was clutch hitting. As soon as someone made it to second base, we started hitting grounders to the infielders. Cary pitched a pretty good game, but we ended up losing again, this time by a final score of 4-3. We were now only a game above .500, a far cry from the team that won the state championship last year.

Jeanne did come home that evening, closeting herself in her room as soon as she made sure that Dad had seen her. She also accepted a ride in to school with me. But it was a strange trip, with her ignoring Jill in the back seat and Jill bubbling away to me as I drove. Lunch on Tuesday was fairly tense as well, particularly since it was Tanya's second day away from the group. Dinner on Tuesday was only bearable because of Dave's announcement that he was going to start taking courses at the community college the following week.

Finally, on Wednesday, Tanya spoke to me after class.

"We need to talk," she said soberly.

I nodded, and we walked out together to the courtyard.

"You went back to the party," she said simply. "Debbie came up to me on Monday morning and said 'Sorry you weren't feeling well, Tawny. But thanks for sending Trick back."

"And it's a good thing I did go back," I responded.

She furrowed her brow.

"You call that a good thing?"

"I call saving Jill from Paul Scholl a good thing, yeah. I call hauling her drunk little ass back to the house a good thing, yeah."

"I didn't see Jill there," Tanya said suspiciously.

"You didn't see anybody who wasn't wearing a top," I pointed out.

"You mean Jill was topless?" she asked breathlessly.

I slowly nodded.

"How did you know she'd be there?"

"I know my sister," I said, truthfully if somewhat unresponsively.

"Why didn't you tell me that?" she asked.

I shrugged.

"I was angry. You were the one who said you'd be available whenever I wanted," I said. "Then I go to this party and see all these girls with the guys on the team, and my girlfriend — excuse me, my friend — says she wants to watch a movie by herself."

"So you're saying you want sex every weekend?" she asked.

Of course I wanted sex every weekend.

"No," I answered. "I just think you're being awfully possessive for someone who doesn't want to actually be my girlfriend."

"I know," Tanya sighed. "I'm sorry."

"Unless you actually want to be my girlfriend," I said hopefully.

"You know, I actually do," she said after a long pause during which she stared off into space. "And my parents really like you. But I can tell that my mother still wants me to find a nice Jewish guy, preferably a doctor, and have Jewish babies."

"But the babies would still be Jewish," I pointed out.

Her eyes snapped back to me.

"How do you know that?" she asked.

"Research," I said. Actually, I had run across it in a magazine article. As long as the mother is Jewish, the kids are considered Jewish.

"I can't believe you looked that up," she leaned forward to kiss me on the cheek. "I am so lucky to have you as a friend. But it still wouldn't be enough."

I almost asked if she meant it wouldn't be enough for her or her mother. But I stopped myself just short. She took my hand and we walked toward the cafeteria. Along the way, we passed Kirsten Aaron, and when she saw Tanya's gaze pass unknowingly over her, she winked at me and ran her tongue along her upper lip. I quickly glanced over at Tanya to make sure she hadn't seen that.

By that evening, Jill and Jeanne had at least reached a sort of truce. We had all learned by that point to avoid the subject of the musical. Tiffany had asked about practice on Tuesday night, giving Jill an opportunity to rave about the chemistry she had with her co-star. Jeanne had simply grunted in response to Tiffany's attempt to draw her into the conversation. That evening, though, Jeanne stormed into my room to fume about Jill's lack of attention to the hard work of singing. And yes, she had good chemistry with her co-star. Robbie Thomas was probably the best-looking guy in the senior class. Anyone would have good chemistry with him. I sympathized as best as I could, but the analogy to baseball kept coming back. Why would this Collins guy put Jill in the lead role if she wasn't the best one for the part?

It was my turn in the rotation for Thursday afternoon's home game, and I was pleased to see that my fan club was back, even if they weren't all sitting together. Apparently today's practice was just for the guys in the play. Jeanne had explained that they were going to need a good bit more work, since the chorus was girls-only. So the girls, with some significant exceptions, according to Jeanne, like I-knew-who, already knew how to sing. They only needed to learn the play. The boys needed to learn to sing as well. That, she claimed, simply made it even more imperative that the girls in the play, such as, for example, Jill, treated their rehearsals with more seriousness.

I could tell that the rift bothered Tanya. She spent the first three innings with Jill, but then when they began to attract a group of eleventh-grade boys, she moved down to sit with Jeanne and Cammie.

It apparently bothered me, too, because I had one of my poorer days. I let in a run in the top of the fourth. It wasn't a really big deal, because we were already ahead 5-0 by the end of the third. But there weren't any errors to excuse this one. I walked the first guy up, and the next guy sacrificed him to second. I hit the third guy, and the fourth guy blooped a single into left field that scored the guy from second.

So with only one out, and men on first and third, that baseball genius Matt Denton sauntered over from third base.

"Everything okay, Trickster?" he asked as he neared the side of the pitcher's mound.

"What the hell do you want, Matt?"

"Just makin' sure you're alright."

"Because we can't afford to have both you and me letting in runs?"

"That was a tough chance," he said defensively, referring to the last ball that had gone just over his outstretched glove. "I haven't made any errors."

"Yet," I snapped. "Don't worry, Matt. We've got a big enough cushion even for a team with you on it."

"Everything okay, guys?" Tommy asked as he trotted out to the mound.

"Fine," I said. "Everything fine with you, Matt?"

"Asshole," Matt muttered.

"Matt's fine, too," I smiled at Tommy. "Now let's strike these next guys out, huh, buddy?"

I struck the first two out, and I got the third to hit a pop fly to the infield. The ball was drifting toward third base, but it was my call as to who would field it. I screamed out Rabbit's name, and he easily made the play. Matt just glared at me as we walked back to the dugout.

We got two more runs in the bottom of the fourth, and four more in the fifth, giving us our first mercy-rule win of the season. Coach called me into his office after the game, though, to ask what Matt and I had been talking about.

"Matt wanted to discuss my pitching," I told him.

"And?"

"And I thought we should discuss his fielding instead."

"He did okay today," Coach said.

"Yeah, I know." He had only had one chance after his grounder, an easy play to second base to end the top of the fifth inning.

"You're the captain, Trick," he said. "You've gotta keep the team together, not push 'em apart."

I left after that. On the one hand, it was true. I was supposed to be the captain of the whole team. But on the other hand, of all the things Matt Denton ought to be worrying about, my pitching was the last thing on his list. I may have finally lost my no-Earned Run Average, but not by much. Still, I mumbled an apology on my way out of the locker room, and Matt mumbled something back.

Tanya and Jeanne were both waiting for me outside the locker room, and Cammie was waiting for Rabbit.

"Jill get a ride home?" I asked, trying not to look at Jeanne, but trying not to make it too obvious that I was looking at Tanya.

"Yeah, some of my classmates," Jeanne said heatedly.

"Sweetie, your boyfriend is a great guy," Tanya said.

"I know," Jeanne sighed. "I'm not jealous. I'm just..."

Jealous. Or just envious, maybe, that the same boys had never paid her the same kind of attention.

We didn't say much the rest of the way to Tanya's house, and nothing at all on the ride back to our house.

Things started to look up on Friday. Tanya pulled me aside after Religion and asked me if my house would be free this evening.

"No," I said. "Tiffany's off her pizza kick. Now she's just having Dad bring her fried chicken every other night."

"Yecch!"

"I know. On the other hand, that baby's just gonna slide outta there."

"Gross!" Tanya hit me on the arm.

"So your house is out, too?"

"Yeah," she said, her disappointment matching mine.

"Tanya getting a little horny?" I smiled.

"Actually no," she grinned at me. "But Tanya needs to make it up to her best friend."

"Bummer."

"Well, we could go out to the point," she said slowly.

"Chapman's Point?" I asked with astonishment. "But that's just..."

"An overlook. I know."

"But you said that you didn't want to, in the back seat of —"

"I know what I said," she stopped me with a finger to my lips. "Do you want to go or not?"

"What time shall I pick you up?" I asked with enough eagerness to make her break into giggles.

I stopped by her house at seven o'clock, so that we could go out for a bite to eat together. Mr. Szerchenko pretty much monopolized the conversation while I was waiting for Tanya to come downstairs, but it was pretty clear that Mrs. Szerchenko wanted to have a say as well. Finally, just as she had drawn a deep breath and was getting ready to cut her husband off, probably with a sharp elbow to the stomach, we heard Tanya thundering down the stairs.

"Sorry," she said breathlessly.

I looked at her, dressed in a pair of jeans and a ribbed yellow turtleneck.

"It was worth the wait," I said.

"Don't forget your coat," her mother said.

"It's actually pretty warm," I told her, a little selfishly perhaps since I was wearing a coat of my own. It didn't make any difference, though. Tanya was already headed for the closet. Mrs. Szerchenko leaned in to whisper in my ear.