Authors: Keri Mikulski
And just like that, it’s like nothing bad ever happened.
forty-two
And from there, things only get better.
“Did I just hear that you’re back on the prom court?” Missy asks, once I’m settled into the front seat of her car after our post-tournament celebration.
I gingerly place my MVP trophy on the floor in front of me. (It should really say “co-MVP.” Amber also got one.) I choose my words carefully. “Guys, that doesn’t matter. What matters is that you all were there for me today and that we saved Beachwood Softball.”
Not surprisingly, they ignore my attempt to change the topic.
“Yeah, I swear I heard Coach Kate say that you were back on the court,” Jessica chimes in from the backseat. “It sounded like she got a phone call from Martie.”
“So, does this mean you’re joining us tonight?” Missy asks, stopping at the entrance to the complex. She pulls her dad’s Mercedes GL550 out onto a winding road. (It’s the only car that was large enough to fit the seven of us.)
“Nope. I’m still not going,” I say, unwrapping my hair band from my ponytail. I flip my head upside down and rub out my hair.
“Did I miss something? Like when you got hit in the head with a softball?” Missy asks, inching up in her seat to check her reflection in the rearview mirror. She pouts her lips. “Because you’re acting like a crazy person.”
“You know she’s right!” Hannah pipes up. She’s sitting in the middle next to Taylor and Tamika.
“I second that,” Tamika says. “You have to go. You’re back on the court.”
“And you’re our date,” Eva adds. She sits in the backseat with Jessica.
Ugh, date.
I feel my stomach flip-flop thinking about Zachary arm in arm with some random girl. Then it hits me. “Wait. What are you talking about?”
“We’re going as a team this year. Didn’t Missy tell you? We’re meeting our dates at the prom,” Jessica explains.
“What?” I ask, feeling my eyes tear up. “Really, guys, don’t do all that for me. I’m not going.”
Missy adjusts her oversized sunglasses. “Why would the guest of honor miss the big party?” She points to my trophy. “You’re going to be the first B-Dub student to collect a trophy and crown on the same day.”
She squeezes my leg.
“We’ll be there with you, Ky,” Taylor says.
I look around at my teammates (plus Hannah) and think about how they’re the ones who’ve been there for me through thick and thin. “Okay, I’ll go.”
The girls cheer. Their voices are almost as loud as they were at the game.
“But one condition,” I say, interrupting their excitement.
“Name it,” Missy replies.
“Amber gets to come with us in our limo.”
“Amber?” Tamika asks, disbelievingly.
“Yes, Amber.” I pause. “And her friend Danielle if she wants to join.”
“Are you sure?” Eva asks.
“Absolutely.”
“Is the future prom princess ready?” Missy opens the door to her bedroom to find me standing there, staring at myself in her mirror, still in my bathrobe. The only indication that I’m about to leave for the prom is my hair—at Missy’s insistence, it’s been done into a messy updo with intertwined lavender ribbons. Other than that, I’m a total mess. I can feel Missy shaking her head behind me.
“So, are you planning on not getting dressed? Guess they’re going to have to crown me instead . . .”
I’m jolted awake at the mention of a crown. “Never—” I begin to say. Then I catch sight of Missy in the mirror. “Miss, you look amazing!” Her short pale pink dress sparkles and her blonde hair is done in long, loose curls. The effect is radiant—she looks like Taylor Swift without a guitar.
“You’re going to miss the pictures!” she exclaims. “Everyone’s waiting! Including your dad.
And
Amber. Get dressed!”
“I just can’t, Miss. It’s wrong. The dress, I mean.” There’s a reason why I’ve been staring at myself instead of being productive—my mother’s absence still stings. There’s no way I can bring myself to wear the dress she shipped.
Missy grins. “Fortunately, you have another option.” She scampers over to her walk-in closet and swings open the doors. A yellow garment bag hangs there, amid all of her Free People and Marc Jacobs. Big block letters spell out BANANA FAD.
Missy pulls the bag out of the closet. She unzips it to reveal a breathtaking lavender dress. She holds it up by the hanger and the soft material cascades down to the floor.
My mouth hangs open.
“So, I assume the dress is up to par. . . .” Missy winks.
“Wow . . . Miss. I love it!” I shout. “The way the straps loop together in the back. They almost look like two upsidedown As . . . Wow.” I’m speechless.
“I knew it’d be up your alley.” She hangs the dress on the closet door.
“But when did you even have time to work on it?”
“You know, whenever you thought I was hanging out with Hannah.” She fluffs her hair. “I can’t get into college on good looks alone.”
“Missy, I had no idea. You
are
really talented. And not just at marketing,” I say, still staring at the dress. “You never needed to pretend like you weren’t.”
“It was still helpful to learn from Hannah,” she concedes, shrugging. Then she shifts gears. “So, the big question is, are you going to wear it?”
“Ohmigod, yes!” I beam.
“Great! See you downstairs in five.” She sashays past me and out the door.
I grab the dress off the closet door and hold it up in front of me, staring at myself in the mirror. I picture what it will be like to walk into prom, arm in arm with my friends, in a Banana Fad dress. It’s not the image I originally had in mind—me holding Zachary’s hand, in a dress I picked out with my mom—but surprisingly, it’s even better.
My cell phone buzzes, but for once in my life, I ignore it. Everyone who cares about me is right here.
forty-three
“We’re almost ready to announce this year’s prom royalty!” Ms. Sealer shouts over the microphone. She then motions for the music to resume, and the girls and I return to dancing. With the exception of our brief pause during Ms. Sealer’s announcement, we haven’t stopped moving ever since we arrived at the Beachwood Country Club. Not even to eat.
I’m so caught up in the moment that I hardly hear Coach Kate’s voice over the club mix. (The music is courtesy of Eva’s boyfriend, DJ Buzz Cut Cali.)
“Kylie!” she calls out.
I dance to the music.
“Kylie!” she calls again.
Finally, I hear her. “Coach Kate!” I exclaim. “What are you doing here?” I ask. I’m shocked to see her there. And in anything but her coaching gear.
“Ms. Sealer asked me to chaperone at the last minute,” she explains. She shifts around uncomfortably in her gown.
“And I thought it was a crazy day for me! You must be so tired after everything.”
“No kidding. I am. I can’t wait to get out of these heels.” She lifts up her gown to show me the heels beneath.
“Ha ha ha,” I laugh. “I know the feeling.” I hear someone yell in excitement and glance back at my friends. They are still tearing it up on the dance floor.
“Kylie, I hate to interrupt you while you’re clearly having such a good time. But . . . ” She pauses. “I have some news.”
My heart stops. It doesn’t take a genius to figure out what she means by that. “Am I back off the court?” I ask. “It’s okay if I am. I knew it was too much to hope for that we’d win the game and everything would be okay—”
Coach cuts me off. “No, no. It’s nothing like that. I just came over to tell you that after your performance today, I got a few phone calls.”
“Phone calls?”
“Yes, from some college coaches who’d like to discuss recruitment options with you.”
“Really!” I exclaim. Before I can stop myself, the words come tumbling out. “Did the coach from UCLA call?!”
Coach Kate looks confused. “No, not exactly.”
“Oh. Then who did?”
“A couple Division III coaches. Ithaca and Claremont.”
So, not UCLA.
I debate what to say to that. Then it dawns on me. “Wait, they really want me?”
“It looks that way!” Coach Kate grins.
Just then I hear Ms. Sealer clearing her throat into the microphone. I glance in her direction.
“You know what, Kylie? Let’s talk about this more on Monday. Tonight is your night.” Coach Kate begins to walk away.
“You sure?” I ask. “I’m just so grateful for the opportunity.”
She turns back to me. “I know that, Kylie. And that’s why you deserve it.”
Suddenly, the music stops. “Okay. We’re ready to begin,” Ms. Sealer announces from the podium.
My heart skips a beat. A hush falls over the crowd, and I go to thank Coach Kate one last time. But when I look around for her, she’s already gone.
“I’m going to begin by announcing the members of the court, one by one,” Ms. Sealer explains. “Missy Adams.”
I whistle as Missy, the picture of prom perfection, steps out onto the stage.
“Brooke Lauder,” Ms. Sealer yells.
Brooke makes her way to the stage. In a sea of expertly attired guests, her gold dress still manages to dazzle.
Finally, Ms. Sealer arrives at me. “Kylie Collins,” she shouts.
I meander through the crowd and step onto the dais. Then I turn around and scan the room.
“Andrew Mason,” Ms. Sealer announces.
Andrew finds his spot behind Missy.
I catch sight of Zachary. He’s standing near Amber, clearly trying to get a rise out of me. In all the hoopla, I almost forgot that I’d have to deal with him tonight.
“Matt Moore.”
Matt moseys up onto the stage and stands behind Brooke. Taylor cheers.
I glare at Zachary. Only one more announcement to go until I’m within a five-foot radius of him.
“Zachary Murphy.”
Chants of “Murph! Murph! Murph!” erupt. The boys’ basketball team leads the cheering.
Zachary finds a spot behind me onstage. He leans into me. “Where were you tonight?”
“What are you talking about?”
“I went to the guesthouse to pick you up. But you weren’t there. And you didn’t answer any of my calls.”
“Why would I?”
“I thought you were gonna be my date.”
“What!?”
I have to stop myself from screaming. “What made you think that?”
“You never said no.”
“Are you kidding me? My saying that I never wanted to speak to you again wasn’t clear enough?”
“Eh. I’ve learned to ignore you when you get like that.” He whispers in my ear, “No matter what, you still love me.”
I move as far away from him as I can without attracting attention. “No, actually, I don’t.” I look around at the expectant crowd.
“Well, it wasn’t like you had anyone else to go with.”
“I went with my friends.” Suddenly, an epiphany strikes. “Wait. How did you know that no one else invited me?”
I look back at Zachary. He’s green.
“I . . . uh, didn’t.”
“You did.”
“Believe whatever you want.”
“Did you tell people not to?”
“Um . . . I—”
I stop him before he can attempt to weasel his way out. “Did you tell Brett Davidson?”
The makeshift drums sound, heralding Ms. Sealer’s upcoming announcement.
Zachary regains his footing. “So what if I did?”
“Are you serious?”
“This year’s prom princess and prince are . . .” Ms. Sealer squeezes her note card.
There’s a long pause. I force myself to focus.
“Kylie . . .” Zachary taps me on the shoulder.
“Shut up.”
“Kylie Collins and Zachary Murphy!” Ms. Sealer announces.
What?!
“See, we belong together.”
“No, Zachary. We don’t.”
In a huff, I grab the crown from Ms. Sealer, pull Missy along, and walk off the stage.
“Goodbye, Zachary,” I mouth.
He attempts to grab my hand.
“I don’t think you heard me. Goodbye, Zachary,” I say, louder this time.
I push my way through the crowd, leaving Zachary in my dust as I go to rejoin my friends. I don’t look back, but I suspect the expression on his face is one of total, complete shock. I take a moment to let it all sink in—I just won prom princess and told off Zachary Murphy. Coolly and calmly. It feels good.
A chorus of “congrats!” echoes out among the crowd. Emily, Nyla, and a bunch of the other girls from softball wave to me. Phoenix gives me a huge smile.
I wave back and mouth a big “thanks.”
Finally, I reach my basketball buds. “Come on!” I exclaim. “Didn’t you hear? I’m your new princess. I make the law. And I say it’s time to dance!” I motion for the girls to follow me back in the direction of the stage.
The girls scurry behind me, baffled expressions on their faces. We pass Amber and some of the girls I just waved at, and I pull them along too.
I grab Eva from the line forming behind me, whispering to her to go tell her boyfriend to play
So What?
by Pink.
Then the girls and I reach our destination: the dais.
“Um . . . we don’t belong up there,” Amber says.
“Of course you do,” I reply. I pull them onto the stage with me.
Pink’s lyrics scream out just like I planned.
“It’s party time!” Missy calls out. She pulls Brooke and Phoenix into the fray, and for once, I don’t feel like they’re out to get me. Phoenix even manages to mouth me a “congrats.”
I notice Ms. Sealer slowly backing away from the dais. At this point, the stage is literally overrun with my friends. All of whom are dancing up a storm.
I snatch the crown off my head and place it on Amber’s. She glows, her smile suggesting that this is the best gift anyone’s ever given her. Then she passes it to Jessica, who tries it on for size. Jessica, in turn, gives it to Taylor. Who gives it to Eva. And so on.
By the time DJ Cali plays “We Are the Champions” especially for the softball team, the crown has made its way around the entire group.
And in that moment, I, Kylie Elizabeth Collins, finally let it all go.
acknowledgments
Thank you to Jane Schonberger and everyone at Pretty Tough Inc. for your support, generosity, vision, and expertise. I’m extremely proud and honored to write for the Pretty Tough brand. Thanks bunches to Ben Schrank and the über-talented gang at Razorbill for working so hard on
Stealing Bases
. A special thanks and a carton of Diet Coke goes out to the talented Gillian Levinson for your amazing editorial eye, career guidance, and patience. And last, but certainly not least, thank you to Michelle Grajkowski, my fairy agent and friend. I count my blessings every day that I’m surrounded by such an amazing team.
Thank you to my writing buds, especially the Kid Lit Authors Club and NJRWA, for your mentorship and advice. An enormous thanks goes out to Cyn Balog for talking me off the ledge, answering my bazillion questions, and your friendship. And thanks to Lauren Lesser for your honest first reads. You guys rock.
Thanks bunches to my former teammates who serve as my inspiration. And thanks to Kate Ormsby (Coach Kate) for permission to use her name as a shout-out to the Shade.
A special thanks to my teacher buds and students with an extra hug to Mike, Melanie, Sandy, Julie, Joyce, and Team Imagination for consistently picking up my slack and cheering me on. Also, thanks to the California Interscholastic Athletic Association for answering my questions and sending me research materials.
A super-duper special thanks to my family. Especially, my mom and dad for spreading the word about my books and believing in me since birth. Also, thanks to Ron, Ida, Kelly, Michael, Nicole, and Anthony for always being there whenever I needed you. Thanks to Sydney and Sabrina for forcing me to take breaks and have fun. And thanks to Kaci Olivia for giving me the courage to write, wanting to take
Head Games
into school for show-and-tell, and most of all, for just being your incredible authentic self. I love you guys.
Thank you to the librarians, booksellers, book bloggers, and readers who support the series. Your emails, messages, interviews, reviews, and blog posts mean more to me than you can ever imagine.
Stealing Bases
would not be possible without the endless, unyielding support (which includes, but is not limited to, picking up groceries, running errands, and cooking dinners) from my amazing hubby, Justin. I love you!