Holding Me Back

Chapter 4

I don't know how, but my palms are drenched with sweat. Same with my forearms, it's not a hot day, and I had gym a few period ago. Maybe it's just nerves. The sweat on my arms begins to leak under my band-aid, and I really hope that it's not enough for it to make my band-aid slip off. I'm sitting on a bench outside of the school, waiting for my mom to pick me up. She's only about 10 minutes late, but by now the lot has cleared out, leaving me and a few other kids still straggling behind. My mom didn't forget about me, right? My phone rings, and I hope it's anyone but Kyle. 

It's not. Phew. Luckily it's my mom, and she can't pick me up. Because of course it's more important to pick up Nicole from lacrosse training first, right? Yea, leave the anorexic, semi-depressed girl to walk home alone. What a fantastic idea mom. I know she cares about me, but sometimes she just doesn't think about what's actually best for me. And leaving me to walk home alone on a pretty busy street is not what's best for me, even though I know the way home and won't get hurt most likely. I sling my backpack over my shoulder and begin the walk home.

"Hey! Wait up!" I hear someone running behind me.

With my extremely good luck, it is of course Kyle.

"Where are you going," Kyle pants as he stands to my side.

"Home?" I state the obvious.

"Well, I can walk home with you. I live a street farther than you anyways," Kyle says and walks with me.

I don't know how he knows what street I live on, but I honestly wouldn't mind walking home with someone. Even Kyle.

"So why are you walking home? Your mom usually picks you up, right? I'm pretty observant to be honest," Kyle breaks the silence.

"I can see that. And she had to pick up Nicole from lacrosse training. She's an upcoming lacrosse star, as everyone tells me at least," I explain, and Nicole is really good at lacrosse to be honest.

"Well, you're 16, I think you can walk home alone," Kyle points out at me.

"It's different with me," I let out by accident.

Damn you blurting. Damn you.

"Why is that?" Kyle asks me.

"Oh, it's nothing," I try assuring him.

"No, I think it is something. Just my observing," Kyle gets all defensive, "I'm not who I'm cracked up to be either."

"You think? I've been trying to pry your secret out of you since you moved here," I laugh a little.

"Well, I have an eating disorder. I've gotten a little better, but not really And like you, I'm muscular which helps a little. You can't tell anyone. You're the only one who knows because I know that different too," Kyle says.

"Oh okay," I think I need to tell him, "I have anorexia, I'm semi-depressed, and I have OCD attacks sometimes. You promise you won't tell anyone," I let out in one quick sentence.

"Wow, that stinks. And I won't tell anyone," Kyle says, it's a lot to take in.

It feels better to get one lie off of my chest. But there are still more piling up by the days. I don't know if I'm feeling regret, annoyance, relief, or maybe just joy, but there's a funny feeling. It's the same feeling I had when I told Riley. Maybe it's just relief.

"So, are you doing anything today?" I try to start a conversation.

No, if you're thinking that I want to hang out with Kyle, you couldn't be more wrong.

"No, you?" Kyle replies.

"Oh, I just have a softball game which my mom can't go to, but my dad is going. My mom is going to Nicole's, I don't even remember. Which stinks, because it's my first game playing with the Wolves," I explain. Why is it so easy to talk to Kyle? Is it because he understands?

The Wolves are a tight-knit group of softball players all on the same team. This team is not only for the best, and only the best, they were first in states last year and fourth best in the entire country. It's a real honor to be playing on the Wolves. 

"Really? You made the Wolves team? Can I come to your game?" Kyle asks me.

I want to say no, but it would be cruel to say no after spilling our secrets to each other.

"Sure, why not," I say.

"Cool, does this make us friends?" Kyle asks me.

"I guess so."

And I see something on his face that I've never seen before. A true genuine smile, not a fake one, a real one. Seeing that, makes me curl a true small smile onto my face. The only times I ever smile is when Nicole is being hilarious, when Riley does whatever it is, when I do good at my softball game or swim meet, and now, Kyle.

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I don't know exactly why, but I'm more nervous for this softball game than ever. Is it because I'm playing with the Wolves? Is it because Kyle is coming? I don't know. Before my dad and I leave for the game, I do another quick check over my body to make sure that no freaky back bones are being shone or poking out at my jersey. Luckily, none of them are. My mom is too busy pushing Nicole out the door for her activity so that she isn't late to tell me good luck or to even make "healthy choices". That hurts, but I push it off. It's not that things like this aren't unusual. Today at least, I'm my dad's "star" which means I'm soaking up the attention real good, and wearing that fake as ever smile. We get to the field shortly.

"Christine!! Right?" A teammate says to me when I enter the dugout.

"Hi Angela," I reply. Angela is the second baseman, me being the shortstop. I smile when she ushers me into the spot next to her bag.

A real smile. Number 2 of the day. Could this be a record?

Angela and I throw the ball around together to get warmed up. I'm not particularly paying attention when the coach rattles off the order. I'm probably being benched this game, since I'm new to the team. My ears perk up when I hear my coach tell me that I'm first in the order, and starting shortstop today. Wow. I might get up to 3 smiles today. That would be a world record in Christine Town.

When I look into the crowd, I see Kyle. Like he said, he came. He waves at me and lifts up one corner of his mouth. It's not a smile, it's not a frown. I don't know what face that is, but at least it's not a bad one.

Since we're the away team, I get my helmet and batting gloves on quickly, and then grab my composite bat. I practice my swing a few times, and then get into the batter's box when the umpire tells me to. Did I forget to mention that I'm a slaphitter? A player that is really fast and usually pretty skilled, will hit lefty and take a few steps in their swing to get a head start. That's slaphitting, but that hard thing is, you're always expected to get on base. The first pitch comes, it's a little high and outside, but I swing anyways. My bat collides with the ball and sends it soaring over the shortstop's head. A safe double for a slapper, but a single for anyone else. I'm on second base one pitch into the game. Long story short, the Wolves won 7-1. I don't get to talk to Kyle after the game, but I am able to fist-bump him, which is more than I thought. Before he can say "Congrats!" or something, Angela whisks me away, for more congratulations.

When I get home, the spotlight is on Nicole. Thanks mom. She doesn't even ask about me until she hears the clanging of my bats as I pull the bag upstairs. So much for your support. I don't mind much anymore, I've gotten used to the fact that I'm not my mom's favorite. I've accepted it and moved on. Well, sorta.