Out of My League

{1} A Secret Admirer

Lemon's POV

Ugh, I hated chemistry. I mean who really cares about the different parts of an atom or the periodic table of elements? As I sat there fiddling with my pen and drowning out the monotonous drone of Mrs. Beasley's voice, I couldn't help but steal glances at the girl sitting across from me.

Charlotte Black. The smartest, prettiest, and most athletic person I'd ever known. I mean I didn't actually know her, unless staring at her from afar counted. Wow, suddenly I felt like a creep. But how could I not stare when she sat there looking all pretty and everything? 

Charlotte was like all the qualities I wish I had combined into one perfect girl. She was captain of the softball team, a straight-A student, and popular. Despite all of that, people said she was nice. But I doubted that. How could someone so gorgeous be nice?

And here I was, fiddling with my pen like a dork. I was always fidgeting or fiddling with something. That's what happens when you're born with a little too much energy and not enough control, at least that's what my mom says.

"Ms. Hatfield," Mrs. Beasley's unpleasant voice interrupted my secret thoughts. "Are you even listening to me? I mean you probably should be after your last test scores came in." Why did teachers have to be so mean?

A familiar voice interrupted Mrs. Beasley's successful attempt at humiliating me. "Have you seen 'The Office' Mrs. Beasley?" my best friend Cathy inquired, coming to my rescue.

"Now is not the time Miss Wilson," the teacher replied irritably.

"Of course you haven't," Cathy continued with a smirk. "There's this one character named Pam. And no offense, but if I'm being completely honest she's definitely in the lead when it comes to who's the better Beasley."

I heard Charlotte laugh across from me. Did she watch "The Office" too?

"Another sassy remark from you Miss Wilson, and you're going out into the hall!" Mrs. Beasley retorted angrily.

"Of course ma'am," Cathy responded sarcastically. "We definitely wouldn't want that." I couldn't help but laugh as Cathy proceeded to stick her tongue out at the grumpy teacher the second she turned around.

Sometimes I wondered how I ended up with a friend like Cathy. Her witty remarks and stubborn attitude completely foiled my shy, pacifistic nature. I always struggled when it came to finding the right words to say, but Cathy always had another sassy comment up her sleeve. Sometimes I envied how outgoing and laid-back she was.

Despite Mrs. Beasley's warnings, I continued to stare at Charlotte. She was wearing a black flannel with jean shorts. Her dark-brown hair had recently been cut to just below her shoulders, and her emerald green eyes, the color of freshly-cut grass, sparkled in the sunlight streaming through the window. I was a sucker for green eyes. 

"Hey Lemon," Cathy whispered in my ear. "What's going on? You seem like you're on another planet." She followed my eyes to the beautiful girl in front of us. "Oh," she realized laughing. "I can't blame you. She is quite the catch, and that's coming from a girl who's as straight as Mrs. Beasley's back."

I laughed, blushing slightly. I had been out of the closet for a year now. Despite the craziness of my life, my sexuality was one thing I had always been sure about. Just ask the hundreds of Fifth Harmony posters hung up in my room. Lucky for me, I had very supportive parents who loved me no matter what. I was aware that some people weren't quite as fortunate. 

The bell rang, signaling the end up of the day. As I got up I couldn't help but notice the plethora of people gathered around Charlotte, as if wanting to soak up in her perfection like plants in the  sunlight. I sighed to myself.

Cathy heard me. "Aw Lemon. Sometimes people are just too good to be true." 

I chuckled, realizing she had turned to stare at the quarterback of the varsity football team, Jackson Matthews. 

"I know," I agreed sadly. "Sometimes people are just so out of your league it's not even funny." 

As I was leaving the classroom, I felt a gentle tap on my shoulder. I turned around to be face-to-face with Charlotte. I gasped a little too loudly.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to scare you," she said in a soft voice. Then she began to laugh. "This is pretty lame, but I was just wondering if you were interested in buying some pies."

"Pie," I replied stupidly.

"Yeah.. pies," she said. She was probably judging me hard-core by now. I mean who could blame her? 

"The softball team is having a fundraiser so we can afford new uniforms this year. I was wondering if you wanted to buy some. I'm trying to ask all the girls in the class," she gave me a wink that made my heart stop. "I would ask the guys, but we all know they're not the most responsible when it comes to money."

"Yur," I replied dumbly. 

In case you were wondering, that's what you get when you accidentally combine the words "yes" and "sure." Please kill me now, I thought to myself.

For the second time today, Cathy came to my rescue. "Charlotte, why didn't you ask me if I wanted pies? You know I'm always hungry," she faux pouted.

Charlotte chuckled. "I was just about to ask you Cathy. You know I would never forget my favorite customer," she joked.

Charlotte turned and left as silently as she had come, leaving me behind to die of embarrassment.

"Well that happened," Cathy stated with a sympathetic smile. "Trust me Lemon, it wasn't as bad as you think."

"Um, it was probably worse!" I groaned, covering my face with both hands.

"You know what might cheer you up?" Cathy asked energetically.

"Nothing," I lamented. "Except maybe a couple pints of ice cream."

"Softball!" Cathy suggested to my absolute horror.

"Hell no!" I protested.

Don't get me wrong, I was quite the fan when it came to softball. Cathy loved it because she used to play little league, but I watched it because of a certain #14.

"Nothing would disturb me more!" I exclaimed. "Not after I made an utter fool of myself in front of Charlotte Black."

"There's no getting away from this Lemon!" Cathy persuaded. "Give it chance! You'll feel better in no time."

...

And so here I was, watching from the hot and crowded bleachers to the field below. Cathy really was a master manipulator.

"Are you feeling better yet? Feeling a bit pumped Lemon?" she asked, much to my extreme annoyance.

"NO!" I complained.

"Ooooh look, number 14 is up to bat," Cathy said a little too loudly. "Did you know 14 is Troy Bolton's basketball number?"

"Who?" I asked, distracted.

"From High School Musical!" She exclaimed impatiently. "You know this Lemon!"

But I had stopped listening. Number 14, Charlotte Black, was up to bat. She looked even more beautiful down on the field. She seemed relaxed, stress-free. I hadn't noticed the dark circles under her eyes before today. But as she stood there waiting for the pitch, she looked absolutely stunning. 

The throw came and she missed. This was so unlike her. She usually was hitting home runs this far into the game. What was going on? 

Another throw, another strike. Something was definitely off. But what? I could tell the spectators were thinking the same thing by the confused looks on their faces.

"Is she okay?" Cathy asked seriously. "She seemed totally fine when she was selling us pies. Maybe this is just an off-day," she continued. "But Charlotte never has off-days."

"I don't think it's just that," I said thoughtfully as Charlotte swung and missed the last throw. 

She was out. Charlotte never struck out.

There must be something terribly wrong.