Can I Have That in Writing?

Riley: Three Strikes

I already offered Emily some of my candy, right? Then why did my hand stretch out to give her more?

It was a harmless gesture, and I had no idea why I was panicking about it. It was just something I did. My mother's side of the family was Italian, and it was how we showed love. Feeling sad? Feeling happy? Have some food. My dad's side was Irish, so it was the same principle, but with beer.

Emily naturally refused the second time. She had her own snacks, but she was also intently watching her sister, who was on second base after her hit.

I followed my friend's league and turned back to the game. Tossing my handful of candy into my mouth, I observed the next batter. She ran to first, but the ball was caught by the opposing team before she made it. Luckily, Allison was safely at third.

Mr. and Mrs. Summers clapped for their daughter. So did Sebastian. I could tell from the way he pursed his lips that he was suppressing a vocal show of support for his girlfriend. I wished Mr. Summer approved of him. Despite his looks and appreciation of the "devil's music", he was a moral, chivalrous guy.

Allison's father was just a face-value, "judge a book by its cover" type. And he wouldn't be changing anytime soon.

She's the good daughter and does what she's told. She's sacrificing part of herself. And I don't want her to do that at school, or in club. She needs a place to just be her, you know?

My friend's words replayed in my head as I glanced at Emily. I wondered that if her father did change, could she be free to be herself? Until then, was she stuck playing a role? While I was here, maybe I could take the first steps to getting to know her. The real her.

I nudged her gently with my shoulder and spoke. "So, how long has Allison been playing?"

Emily paused before answering. "A while."

Well, that was specific, I thought to myself. I prevented myself from asking more while the next batter swung. She already got two strikes. The pitcher threw a third time. The girl swung. The ball connected and flew over the field.

We all cheered. Allison ran home, as did the girl who swung. The score was currently three-to-zero, in our school's favor. I noticed that Emily wasn't shouting or whistling like most of the crowd, but she was grinning.

It gave me pause. I'd never seen her smile with her teeth before. My heart pumped blood through my veins even faster. It was cute. But like, in the way a teddy bear was cute.

We sat back down, and I tried to suppress a grin of my own. "So, how long is a while?" I asked.

Emily turned to me, brow furrowed. I quickly reminded her of our conversation before the home run. "You know, you said Allison had been playing a while."

"Right. Um..."

She took a moment before continuing in a small voice. "I think she was nine or ten when she started, so... eight years?"

I whistled. "That's some commitment. And you've been to all of her games?"

"Yeah."

I allowed myself to grin. "Cool."

I turned back to the game. The next two players struck out, and the teams changed sides. Vera tapped me on the shoulder and stood. "I'm getting a soda refill," she announced. "Want some?"

"Sure," I replied. "Want me to come with?"

"Only if you want. I know Allison's pitching, so..."

I glanced back at the field, and back to Emily. "I'll stay here. But here, I'll pay."