Sweet Jesus and two more voices

I actually didn't realize that the last post had been SEPTEMBER. Maybe had I noticed, I might have got my ass in gear a little faster. Anyway, I'm back at it and I've got chapters 2 and 3 ready for you. Seems like a lot, right? No, actually, it's not. Two of the secondary players in our little story get chapters at this point because it seemed like a good idea [at the time] to set the precedent of this style earlier on than I had before. I think it works. Let me know. Chapter 4 is about ready as well. I'm still holding out for not having to actually do much more than hardcore rewriting, hoping that an editor will actually do the editing for me. That's literally how lazy and delusional I am. Go figure. Anyway, here it goes.

CHAPTER 2—JAMES WALLACE

That same Thursday

It’s just him and me, staring each other down across the field. His eyes burrow into me, trying to figure me out. Ain’t gonna work.

He winds up. Pitches. The ball comes fast. Muscle memory kicks in.

Crack. It’s the rush of energy traveling up my arms as the leather and wood connect that really gets me going, gives me the energy for the sprint to first.

I’d watch the ball fly away, but the sun gets in my eyes.

“We’re sure going to miss you next year, Jimmy,” Coach says after the game.

“Me too, Coach” I say. Just not the “Jimmy” part. Doesn’t matter how many times I’ve told him, he still calls me that. “Whose gonna put your runs on the board next year?”

Coach laughs his big laugh and slaps me on the back. “I pray every night for someone to send me a prodigal freshman as your replacement.”

“Aw Coach,” I say. “You know that’ll never happen.”

“Yeah, yeah.”  He smiles. “See you at practice on Monday. Rest up.”

Coach does this thing where he stands around for a minute after a conversation ends. Maybe he’s waiting for a hug or something. He’s a strange guy like that. The end of this conversation leaves Coach just standing there, smiling at me. 

“Hey, James! Your phone!” calls David, our pitcher.

Thank God.

 “Hey Sam.”

“Hey you. Cough. How was the game?” Sam says. She’s been sleeping all day—I almost didn’t expect to hear from her.

“You sound terrible,” I say.

“Thanks. I took some stuff and wanted to call you before I got too loopy.”

“You’re the sweetest. The game went well. We won.”

“Of course you did, baby,” she says.

“Are you okay?”

“Never better. Cough.”

“Sam…”

“Don’t worry about me. It’s nothing, really.”

In the three years that Sam and I have been dating, she’s never been the type to admit defeat. 

“If you’re sure,” I say after a short silence. “Should I still come see you this weekend?”

“I’ll kick your ass if you don’t!” she says.

 “I’d love to see you try. I’ll see you Saturday then.”

“Great! Cough. I love you!”

“I love you too, Sam.”

CHAPTER 3—ERICA MEYERS

Friday

I’m sure my subconscious registers that Ally says my name.

‘Virus Continues to Baffle UN Scientists’… reads the top headline of my newsfeed. ‘The international science community…’

Blah blah blah…

‘Unknown origins…’

Blah blah blah…

‘…not a threat’

“ERICA!” Ally shouts.

“WHAT?!”

“Sorry. I said your name like, a hundred times,” she says.

“Oh. I was… reading.”

“Nerd. Jk. What do you think?”

“Of what?” I ask, still turning the article over in my head.

“Helloooo…” she says, motioning downwards. “New jeans?” She spins.

“Of course! They definitely don’t look like your others.”

“Oh shut up. You should have come shopping with us.”

“You know I have this big paper to do…” I start.

“I know, I know. That’s why your grades are so good and you’re going to med school, I know. Thanks, Mom.” She laughs. “Off to class! See you, babe.”

Ally takes another look in the floor-length mirror by the front door and adjusts her bra underneath her pink sweatshirt, adorned with sparkly Greek letters.

“See ya,” I call after her.”

Her head pops back in as the door closes. “Dinner tonight?”

“You betcha!” I say. She leaves.

Shit, look at the time. I bookmark the article, making a mental note to ask my nursing professor about it if I see him later.

This girl, Sarah, who was in my psych class last semester, ambushes me just as I get to the class building.

“Erica! Hey!”

“Oh, hey, Sarah, I’ve got to get to…”

“Yeah, me too. How have you been?” she asks, standing a little close to me.

“Great.” Pause. She doesn’t seem like she’s about to leave. “How have you been? How was your grade in Behavioral?”

“Oh my god,” she starts. “I got a B! Which I totally didn’t expect what with how hard that final was.”

“Yeah, seriously…”

“Are you graduating this month?” she asks.

“No, I…”

“Oh right! You had that semester abroad in France which set you back. Sorry, I remember now.” Chills crawl up my back, either from the wind or Sarah remember these details about my life.

“Yeah…”

“Alright well I’ve got class but it was so good to see you. We should get coffee sometime before the semester ends.”

“Yeah, of course!” I say.

“Good! Text me! Bye!” she says and gives me an awkward one-armed hug.

“See ya.”

The lecture hall is pretty empty. Of course. It’s the last class before the final. Why should anyone be here? No one being here makes it all the more obvious that my lab partner, James is missing. Damn you, James. Now I’ve get to sit through this alone.

ERICA: Where are you, best friend?

JAMES: What?

ERICA: IM IN CLASS WHERE ARE YOU

JAMES: my b im eating

ERICA: kay see you after

JAMES: great.

ERICA: PRETEND YOU HATE IT

Whether James realizes it or not, he desperately wants me to be his best friend. Either that or he puts up with me because I do his lab homework.