SAVING CASSIDY

ONE

        Benjamin Marx lived next door to Cass-the-tomboy. She was beautiful. But she tried to hide it. She always wore her mane of chestnut hair up under a baseball cap and donned loose tshirts with cut off blue jeans. In the beginning, she was just one of the guys.

        He met her shortly after his family moved into the split level on Sheffield. She was in the wide driveway next door shooting baskets. He sat on the front porch and watched her, realizing she was actually very good. Swish, swish, swish. She made nearly every shot. She wasn't very tall...a good half foot shorter than him, he guessed. But she made up for her lack of height in the strength of her push off and the skill in her jump.

        Basketball wasn't his game, but he could play. He considered going over and challenging her to a little game of one on one when she stopped and dropped to the pavement. Nonchalantly, she laid back with her head balanced on the ball and pulled a pack of cigarettes and a red lighter from her pocket.

        Shit. A bad girl. His parents would kill him if they ever caught him smoking. He rather respected her guts, and that's what finally drove him to his feet. He wandered over to where she lay.

        "Hey," he greeted amicably. She squinted up at him, doing a quick appraisal. Jock, she judged immediately. Clean clothes, clean cut, dazzling blue eyes, brown hair that leaned toward red.

        "Hey," she nodded.

        "I was watching you shoot. You're really good. You on a team?"

        "Nah," she shrugged.

        "Too bad. You should be."

        "I don't like playing when there's rules involved." She eyes him, unsmiling. This, however, brought an unwitting grin from her new neighbor. He crouched down and held out his hand.

        "Ben Marx." Lazily, she switched her cigarette to her other hand and shook his firmly.

        "Cassidy Glendening."

        "You up for a little one on one?" She smiled cooly at him.

        "You think you can take me?"

        "No," he admitted. "But I'd like to try." She let out a deep bellow of smoke and threw her butt into the perfectly manicured lawn. Cassidy hopped up and snatched up the ball.

        "You gonna play in pretty boy clothes?" she asked, motioning to his Polo and new jeans. He looked down and a blush spread across his face. Wordlessly, he pulled his shirt over his head revealing a bronze, decently developed chest and ribbed flat abs. Cassidy gave him a positively wicked smirk and began to dribble.

        It was no match. Despite his height advantage and long, lean legs, they quit when she hit 20 to his 14. Red faced and sweaty, they collapsed into the lawn.

        "You are amazing," he had to allow. She was quick and accurate. He simply couldn't keep up.

        "Don't play much, do you?" she wondered, pulling out her squashed pack of smokes.

        "Not this."

        "Let me guess," she narrows her eyes at him, studying. "Football. Tight end is my guess." He blinked at her.

        "Huh. That's exactly right. How can you tell?" She flicked an ash and waved in his general direction.

        "You reek jock. And you're built like a tight end. Too tall to kick, too small to full back. You could be a quarterback...but I don't think so. Not arrogant enough."