Full Count (The Catcher Series Book 1) (27 page)

             “No. It was fine,” she answers, closing her locker.
It may or may not slam, but I
’
m too busy trying to keep up
with Buzz
’
s quick stride. All I can think is
why is she
running away from me?

             “
Buzz, wait up,
” I call after
her, and when I catch up I sling my arm around her shoulder. We
’
re
headed outside to the parking lot with a stampede of our classmates, but I
ignore everyone and just zone in on her. “Hey, talk to me,”
I
demand. She doesn
’
t try to sneak away from me; in
fact, it
’
s almost as if she leans into me.

             “In the car,” she insists somberly.
What the fuck
happened?
I think as I squeeze her shoulder. She disguises her actual mood
to everyone else incredibly well with a fake smile, and I fucking hate it. It
’
s going to kill her to continually bottle everything up inside
of her. But I
’
m glad she plans on opening up to me in
private. At least that has to help her a little bit. We get to my Jeep, and I
throw our backpacks in the backseat, and she props her feet up on the dashboard
like she owns it.

             “B-” I begin, but she cuts me off.

             “Drive first,” she orders. Even though I
’
m dying to know what
’
s going on with her,
I comply with her request. She
’
s the boss. The sooner I
start driving, the sooner she
’
ll talk. Getting out of the
parking lot is kind of a joke, but it
’
s also to be
expected since classes just let out. Luckily Buzz doesn
’
t
wait for us to leave campus before she starts talking since no one is walking
by us anymore. “How was your day?” she asks me, but I see right through her.
She just wants me to flip it back on her.

             “
Boring as fuck,
”
I tell her.
“How was yours?”

             “
Oh, wonderful,
” she snarls.
Tapping her fingers on the window, she elaborates, “I had to tell the story of
what happened seven times today. Luckily the study hall aid didn
’
t
ask, or it would
’
ve been eight. Telling the story led to
pity stares in awkward silence, and I just want to go home where I can be
ignored and alone.”

            Buzz is very well liked in our town and high school,
so it doesn
’
t surprise me that everyone is curious and
concerned in her classes. No one dares to make fun of her for her scar; she
would seriously kick their asses. But she would probably prefer that to the
pity stares she receives. She hates being the center of attention, especially
for sympathy. I’m curious if Chase said anything to her, but I’m not about to
bring up the douchefuck and make her even more upset.

            I want to comfort her and take her mind off of school
and everyone around her, so I offer, “I
’
m sorry. Do you
want to hang out tonight? We can play catch or watch a movie.”

             “I have homework,” she states bluntly. It
’
s the first day, so I know she
’
s lying,
but I won
’
t force her to do anything.

             “Fine,” I drop the subject, equally as irritated as
her. “Are you gonna go with Alex tomorrow morning?” The only real reason I
picked her up this morning was to talk to McCallum. With the way she just
brushed me off I figure that she wants to fucking go with her brother.

            Guess not.

            She finally turns her head in my direction. I feel a
tugging in my chest when I see embarrassment and sadness in her eyes, two rare
emotions from this tough girl. “Um,” she mumbles and suddenly loses all of her
confidence in her eyes, like
I
’
m
somehow denying
her
.

            I refuse to be like Chase fucking Morgan and suck the
confidence out of this beautiful, daring girl. “I can pick you up, B; it
’
s not a problem,” I point out.

             “I just heard Rex say that he was picking up Leah,
and there
’
s nothing worse than being a third wheel with
those two,” she explains.

             “I
’
ll get you,”
I
settle it.

            Leave it to everyone at Central to make a big fucking
deal about me and Buzz arriving to school together. The first day no one saw
us, but the second day everyone apparently fucking does. I pick her up late
because I want to sleep in a little longer than the day before, and, my God,
the whole fucking cafeteria almost goes silent when we walk through the doors.
My favorite fucking part of our entrance is that Buzz is modeling her new
prized shirt that reads, “Take a picture. It
’
ll last
longer.” She literally bought the shirt in five different colors online, and
after her first day of stares yesterday, I think it
’
s more
than appropriate. And it
’
s fucking hilarious. Like normal,
I stop at our table of friends to talk with them before the bell rings to go to
first period, but Buzz walks past us down the hallway towards her locker. She
’
s out of sight in twenty seconds. What she doesn
’
t
realize is that it makes everyone in the cafeteria think she
’
s
mad at me, which is worse than them assuming we
’
re
together.
Ugh, high school.

            At the end of the day I meander down the sophomores
’
hallway again to wait for Buzz. When she approaches her locker
and starts on her lock combination, she doesn
’
t look at
me, but she says monotonically, “People can see us.”

             “Like I fucking care,” I snap, leaning against her
neighbor
’
s locker. “Let them take our picture.” I watch
her emerald eyes try to avoid me, and I watch them fail. Three times in thirty
seconds she looks at me while she
’
s fucking with things in
her locker. I have no idea why all of a sudden she cares what everyone thinks
about her; she never fucking cared before. I
’
m not about
to let her push me away again. “How was your second day?” I ask nicely, trying
to urge her out of her mood.

             “It was great, but I don
’
t like
that you have to remind me how many days of hell I
’
ve
spent here already. All it does is remind me of the number of days that are
left,” she groans, closing her locker and walking in sync with me to my Jeep.

             “Well there
’
s only eight days
until your birthday!” I exclaim, nudging her with my elbow. She barely
flinches. I only notice her eyes flicker in my direction and her lips
start
to turn upward, but she catches them before it becomes anything close to a
smile. This mood swing Buzz is going through is so unlike her and therefore so
bothersome. I
’
m sure it has to do with it being her first
week back at school and having to concentrate, so I can
’
t blame her at all. It
’
s hard enough to do
without a brain injury. But I sincerely hope it doesn
’
t
fucking last forever.

            Tiffany and I know Buzz isn
’
t up
to planning a birthday party, but we also agree that she deserves to have one.
We decide to get a suite at the Marriott for a night with our closest friends.
Overwhelming Buzz with a surprise party isn
’
t the best
idea considering she
’
s still healing from the accident,
but I have a master plan that I
’
m sure will make it work.
Tiffany is in charge of checking into the hotel and getting everyone in the
room while my only task is getting Buzz there.

Tiffany Locket:
Did you purposely not invite Chloe?

Me:
Who the fuck is Chloe?

Tiffany Locket:
One of Buzz
’
s
friends from the Rockettes.

Me:
She
’
s
never mentioned her once.

Tiffany Locket:
She
’
s
going to be pissed she wasn
’
t invited.

Me:
Great. Someone I don
’
t
know will be pissed at me. How will I survive?

Tiffany Locket:
You
’
re
such an ass. How soon til you
’
re here?

Me:
Hopefully a half hour.

            I
’
m at Buzz
’
s house when Tiffany texts me trying to add on to the guest
list. Chloe sounds like a bitch, and if Buzz never mentioned her to me before,
chances are she doesn
’
t fucking want her there anyways. So
I don
’
t feel bad at all for excluding her. Only our usual
crew and Cara are invited because I know we
’
re the only
ones that actually care enough about Buzz to not be wild. Laurie, Buzz
’
s previous senior captain, would
’
ve been
invited if she went to college in-state, but she doesn
’
t.

            “Beth,” I warn quietly as I step into their foyer. I
see her in the kitchen and hear Buzz on the phone across the house in the
living room, and I don
’
t want her to see me yet.

            For once, Buzz
’
s mom is on my
team with trying to successfully surprise her. I
’
m pretty
sure she just wants the fucking house to herself, but it doesn
’
t
matter, as long as she helps me. Beth nods, showing me she knows her role in
our game plan.

            I run upstairs to Buzz
’
s room
with my gym bag and begin stuffing a change of clothes inside of it for her.
Tiffany has her party outfit at the hotel, but I don
’
t
think she
’
ll let her sleep in it even if she tries. It
’
s some fancy dress that Buzz is going to hate. Tiff insisted,
which is why I
’
m bringing her something to save her from
it if she still wants to look nice.

            When I return to the main level of the house, Beth
has Buzz waiting for me by the front door. Buzz looks annoyed at her, as usual,
but I don
’
t see the typical snootiness Beth carries around
with her, so I
’
m not sure what happened. I seriously hope
whatever mood Buzz is still in will stop when we got into my Jeep.

             “Where are we going?” she wonders as she climbs into
the passenger side. She doesn’t even ask about the gym bag over my shoulder.

            I give her a
like-I
’
m-going-to-tell-you
look.
“Where
’
s the adventure in telling
you?” I tease, pulling a blindfold out of my shorts
’
pocket.

             “Sky…” she says wearily. She knows something is up
as soon as she sees it.

             “Turn around so I can put it on,” I order, motioning
for her to move. Her long straightened hair tickles my arm as she spins in her
seat. As goosebumps poke up on my arm, I wonder if she still feels the way she
used to about me and us. It doesn
’
t feel like it anymore,
but I hope I
’
m fucking wrong. I know she has a lot going
on with therapy and school and whatever, but I didn
’
t
think those things would deter her from getting butterflies around me. Her
flirting has become so minimal since school started last week.
I
don’
t know why and am too afraid to ask.

             “Can we play twenty questions?” she suggests,
buckling her seatbelt and sitting forward again. I take it as a good sign that
she
’
s actually interested in where I
’
m
taking her.

             “Maybe,” I hesitantly reply. “
But I
won
’
t answer anything I don
’
t
want to.”

             “Oh, yeah, cuz that
’s so fair,
”
she chuckles, but her spirits already seem brighter when I start driving.

             “Am I appropriately dressed for wherever you
’
re taking me?” she asks.

            Observing her current wardrobe consisting of jeans
and a Cubs t-shirt, I tell her, “Technically yes, but that
’
s
not what you
’
ll be wearing tonight.”

            Fail. I have no idea how dirty my statement sounds
until her jaw drops and she exclaims, “Skyler James Swanson! Where the fuck are
you taking me?” Fuck. I hate how my name sounds in that angry, accusatory,
disgusted tone of hers. I didn
’
t even say it sexually!
After glancing at the road and then to her, I notice she
’
s
whipped off her blindfold and sees we
’
re on the way across
an overpass that leads to the Marriott. Okay, so this looks bad. But it really
isn
’
t.

             “Calm the fuck down,” I warn her in a friendly tone.

             “You are not taking me to a hotel,” she states
firmly. I really didn
’
t think this through
.
Getting
her into that suite where all of our friends are waiting is harder than I
thought. So much for a master plan.