God why did I call after him? Why!
He looks back and God how he looks like my Marc. “Yeah?”
“I’m probably going to show up and surprise My at the game tonight.”
He nods.
“No one knows I’m home.”
“Understood.” He turns again.
I have hated him for so long now, yet here he is, the Marcello who loved me and who I loved.
A sob escapes me, causing my whole body to shutter.
He stops, and I’m so afraid he’s going to turn around that I yell, “Just go!”
Ever the rule breaker, he does what I asked him not to, knowing it’s exactly what I want, sputtering, “Fuck, fuck, fuck,” as he hurries toward me.
When he wraps his arms around me, I cry out years of pain, hurt, anger, shame, and guilt.
“Don’t, Beatrice, please don’t. I can’t breathe when you fucking cry.” He hisses the name he used to call me because he said ‘I was more than four letters’, in my ear as I bury my face in his neck.
“I’m”—sob—“so”—sob—“sorry.”
“Don’t be sorry; be okay.” He grabs the back of my hair and pulls my head back and screams at me. “Don’t you ever wanna die again! Don’t you ever do that.”
“Let’s step back from—”
“Fuck you,” he snaps at Marley. “Call her fucking father now so I can get the fuck out of here!”
“Don’t”—sniff—“be”—sniff—“mean to her!”
He presses his forehead against mine, his eyes narrowed, as he yells in my face, “Fuck her. Don’t you ever, you hear me! Not ever!”
“Fine! Just go! Go now!”
“I will!” he yells back but hugs me so tightly that it almost hurts. Then he lets go.
As soon as he leaves, I crumble to the floor, Marley grabs me, and I take her down with me.
Over my sobs, I hear Dad’s voice and yell at him. “Please make sure he’s okay, Dad! Please.”
“You’re my responsib—”
“Go!”
I’m not sure how long I cried, how long Dad was gone, or when Mom joined the breakdown, but I do remember when the tears dried up, yet the sobs didn’t stop.
Somehow, I pull it together just in time for the game, and Brisa whips out her magic makeup brushes and manages to make me look halfway decent.
There is an emptiness inside of me now, a part I shouldn’t miss, not at all, but I do. I wonder if when someone has a tumor removed, they feel a void.
I wear one of My’s old jerseys with a hat pulled down over my eyes because, even though Dad and Mom assure me that I’m not going to get kicked out of the game since I was kicked out of Suckshore, I’m not one hundred percent sure that’s accurate, but I am too exhausted to give a shit.
Brisa sits beside me, her pinky linked with mine like when we were younger, and as much as I want to pull away, because it makes me feel like a baby, I don’t.
When the guys come out, Amias looks up and sees me, and his face about busts in two because he’s smiling that big.
Right then is the first time that I don’t care that everyone outside the “steel wall” surrounding me is no doubt buzzing about the “flower girl,” as they used to call me, behind my back and on the app.
Fucking Suckshore Sound, the devil app.
When the headmaster, dean, whatever the fuck he is approaches us, I pull the hat down farther over my eyes. “Fuck.”
Uncle X leans over my shoulder and whispers, “I got a Benjamin on you.”
“You better cancel that bet; I’m exhausted today. Not a lot of fight in me.”
He starts humming “Fight Song” by Rachel Platten in my ear and I look back.
“And I’m the touched one in the family?”
“Trouble, you are in good company. Me and you.” He winks then chuckles. “What the hell do you think he’s doing? Asking your old man for donations?”
I shrug. “Wouldn’t doubt it.”
“You fucking kidding me right now?” Dad snarls and Mom scrunches her eyes shut and her face begins to grow redder by the minute.
“Bygones, Mr. Steel,” what’s his nuts says and smiles up at me. “Tris, would you do us the honor of singing—”
Dad starts to stand, and Uncle Jase grabs his knee. “My niece just got off transatlantic flight to see her brother’s last game. How about I sing it for you?”
“That fuck seriously just ask you to sing the anthem?” Uncle Cyrus asks loud enough for everyone around us to hear.
“You better ask my agent, my label.” I look back at Uncle X. “What are you?”
“I’m your favorite uncle. You wanna sing, go for it. You wanna tell him to eat a di—”
“She’ll do it,” comes from behind me.
I look back and see Rain.
She smiles. “We’ll do it together, yeah? Some good PR?”
“Good guys don’t have to prove they’re good. This fuck is just using you,” Cyrus says.
Rain, now in front of me, reaches out her hand. “Nah, we’re using the stiff for some good PR.” She looks at him as she pulls me up. “You’re welcome, and yeah, you owe her. From what I’ve heard, you owe all of them.”
As we make our way to the field, I ask her, “What are you doing here?”
“I messaged your sister about her IG, trying to get some tips on what to do with mine. Then we started talking about yours, and she told me you came home. She suggested we do a band shoot on the Shore for PR purposes.”
“You want your page to look like a Disney show, then—”
“Chill, Tris, it’s beautiful.”
I realize I’m being bitter, something I don’t want to be. I just can’t help wanting to be more like her, and the realization I never will be sucks. Sucked more after I found out I was pregnant, and I know how wrong that is.
“I’ll look at it sometime.”
“You’ve never seen your sister’s IG?” Rain gasps.
“Nah, too many triggers pop up, via notifications. I wanna turn them off, but I just can’t so I delete my apps a lot.”
“The ex?” she asks.
Pretty much nothing I want to tell her, but I simply nod.
“Let me get through this game, and I’ll rip his fucking face off.” Amias shocks me as he grabs me, spins me around, lifts me up, and spins me in a circle, all too happy to see me. “I missed you, Tris.”
“We just saw each other, chill.” I smile awkwardly.
“What are you doing out here?” he asks as he sets me on my feet
“My big brother is going to make the big leagues, and I wanted to make sure, when I’m a washed-up pop star, he remembers I came to his last high school baseball game.”
He grins. “Well, no shit, but why are you on the actual field?”
“Get this shit. They asked her to sing.” Rain chuckles.
“You tell them to stick it in their asses?”
“Didn’t have a chance.” I throw my thumb over my shoulder, pointing at Rain. “She thinks it’s a great PR move.”