The whole thing was annoying. You’d think I would’ve lost any skills I had after not playing for five years, but apparently not.
In the end, the upperclassmen won 11–8, and we’re now at the customary celebration party in the mess hall, complete with ice cream and cake.
If they really wanted us to celebrate, they could’ve let us have a night in town. Or told us to sleep in tomorrow. I can think of like a million better ways to celebrate than the dessert we get after every dinner and lunch here.
Noah and I grab some ice cream and start to head toward our usual table, but Paige and another girl stop us.
“So, Evans, did you play baseball at your old school?” Paige asks, then takes a bite of cake.
“Nope.”
“Were you in a league or something?” the other girl asks.
“Nope.”
“He’s just naturally gifted,” Noah says, knocking his shoulder into mine.
I shake my head and start to scoff at him, when Jernigan waltzes over, steps between the two girls, and lays his arms on their shoulders.
“Great game tonight,” he says to the group, though he doesn’t specifically look at me. Which is fine. Good, actually. I’d be thrilled if we never had to look at each other again. If we never had to talk to each other, it’d be even better.
“We were just discussing how well Evans did tonight,” Paige says.
He gives a half nod and what seems like a really forced smile. “I think Jones deserves the MVP, though. His pitching was on fire.”
“Come on,” Paige says, slipping out from under Jernigan’s arm and turning to face him. “Jones walked three players.”
“He struck out a lot more,” Jernigan says.
“Evans hasn’t practiced with us, hasn’t even played baseball, and he drove in five runs and caught at least two fly balls. Was it more?” she asks, looking at me.
I shrug. I honestly don’t remember.
“Three,” Noah says. “And he threw out at least two more at second base.”
Jernigan gives us another forced smile, this time with a clenched jaw. “Well, we’ll have to see how the voting goes.” Just then, someone else comes up and starts talking to him, taking his attention away from us.
“You totally deserve MVP,” Paige’s friend says.
I’m about to disagree, when Paige asks, “Have you met Lieutenant Commander Culver? Leah? She’s my roommate and best friend.”
I shake my head at the same time Leah says, “We’re in the same computer programming and physics classes.”
“Oh, okay,” I mumble. I haven’t noticed her. Then again, I don’t really pay attention to other cadets during class. I’m usually staring at the clock, urging the minutes to tick by faster.
“Time to vote!” a guy yells, entering the room with a stack of paper slips. He hands one to everyone he passes, along with those tiny mini-golf pencils.
When I get my slip, I toss it in the trash. Even if I wanted to vote on any of the awards, I don’t know most of the people’s names. I guess I could write “Not Jernigan” for every one. Or vote for Noah for everything, though I don’t get the impression he’d really care about an award. He and I seem to have a lot of similarities when it comes to Wallingford.
Noah, Paige, Leah, and I take a seat as they fill out their forms and turn them in, and I finish my chocolate ice cream. When I’m done, I stand, ready to head back to my room.
“Where are you going?” Paige asks.
“To the dorm.”
“What about the awards? Don’t you want to see who wins what? And if you got MVP?”
“I didn’t get MVP.”
“You might have. Or maybe something else.”
“I don’t really want an award.”
“What? Why? It’s an honor. Who wouldn’t want an honor like this?”
“Me.”
Her forehead wrinkles, and she gives me a look like I’m the strangest person she’s ever met.
I shrug and turn toward the door, but she quickly stands and blocks my way. “You don’t have permission to leave. The awards ceremony is mandatory for all cadets.”
Of course it is.
“Quiet down, everyone!” Jernigan yells from the front of the room where there’s a table lined with plaques and, for some reason, a big sombrero.
A guy next to him holds up a sheet of paper. “Who’s ready for some awards?!”
Paige is still blocking my path, so I reluctantly return to my seat as the cadets around us start clapping and making noise.
Seriously.
It’s like this is the highlight of their time at Wallingford. It was a freaking required baseball game.
“Before we get to the peer awards, I’m pleased to say we have a cadet who achieved an extra-special feat this year, one that hasn’t been achieved in three years. This cadet managed to strike out four times in one game—which is not an easy thing to do! Cadet Redding, please come forward and accept your well-deserved Golden Sombrero!”
A guy at the table next to me stands and emphatically bows in every direction before racing to the front and donning the large hat.
It’s a ridiculous award making fun of him, but he seems thrilled he was even acknowledged. I’d be hiding under the table, but whatever. Good for him, I guess.
“We’ve tallied the votes for the other awards,” the guy at the front of the room says. “Let’s start with Best Fielding Performance. Drumroll, please…” He pauses and looks to Jernigan, who beats on the table with his palms. “The award goes to Cadet Agarwal!”
A girl on the other side of the room stands and rushes to the front table where she accepts the plaque from Jernigan before waving and saying “thanks” to all of us. The other cadets clap and whistle and pound the tables. I lean back in my chair and cross my arms over my chest.
“And now Best Batting Performance goes to…”
I yawn and wonder how long this will last. We’re supposed to be having personal time right now. It’d be nice to be able to do something I actually want to do, except—
“What are you waiting for?” Noah whispers, nudging me with his elbow.
“Huh?”
“Go get your plaque. You won.”
I glance around the room, and everyone is staring at me.
Really? They voted for me? That makes no sense.
When it becomes clear they’re not going to stop staring, I slowly stand. What am I going to do with a plaque? I can’t remember the last time I won something like this. It must’ve been years ago.
I squeeze between tables to reach Jernigan and the other guy. Why in the world did people vote for me? And how did they even know my name? I’ve been here a couple of days, that’s it.
Jernigan’s holding the plaque, so I approach him. Unlike with the first award, where he was smiling as he handed it to the girl, he’s now got a blank expression—not smiling but also not frowning. That has to be an improvement.
I take another step and reach out my hand to accept the engraved metal and wood, except my foot bumps against something. And is then dragged backward as my weight shifts uncontrollably. Before I know it, I’m face-first on the ground.
At Jernigan’s feet.