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Lauryn: She said no caffeine for me today because it’ll dry up my throat
Lauryn: I’m in hell Eliza. The thresholds of HELL.
I cackled. A knock came from my bedroom door before it opened. Mom stood in the hallway holding a tray of her famous bacon-cheddar scones and a cup of steaming hot coffee. “Happy opening night…day!”
“Thanks, Mom.” I threw off my covers and stretched. “That smells amazing.”
She set the tray on my desk and plopped down at the end of my bed. “You feel ready?”
“Kind of.”
I finished all the cues two days ago but had only seen them once with a run-through. Normally, I’d have a few days of tweaking the finished show, but there was nothing normal about this setup. I planned to get there early and adjust what I could, which would be tricky enough with the sunlight overhead.
“I’m proud of you either way.” Mom patted my legs. “I can’t wait to see it.”
“You’re coming?” I crossed my room and grabbed a scone before sinking into my desk chair. “What about Dad’s game? The championship?”
“He knows, and he understands.” She smiled. “Besides, he’s not the only one who has a championship tonight. I want to support yours too.”
Gratitude washed over me. “Mom, don’t make me cry before nine a.m.”
She winked and kissed my head before heading out the door. “Have you spoken with Reed at all this week?”
I shook my head and slumped against the back of my chair. “Like you said, we’ve all got our own championships tonight. He needs to focus on his.”
Never mind the dozen texts I’d typed out and erased without sending.
I wasn’t sure how or when it had happened, but he had become my person. The one I wanted and needed to tell things to. Even if it was something random like how I caught Viola Gratton fussing at the mailman the other day for not letting her “help” him hand out other people’s mail. (Reed would’ve had the same thought as me: The woman never stops snooping.) Or how Chad threw a tantrum in the middle of the street over a parking ticket. (Reed would’ve loved that.)
But I couldn’t tell him.
I spun my chair around and ran my hand over the small pile of performing arts high school pamphlets I’d printed off from the library. Honestly, all of them were amazing and probably better than Fairfield High, but would there be a place for me at any of them?
“Hey.” Mom tapped on the door, bringing me out of my mixed-up thoughts. “Just don’t forget you need to have your head in your big night too. You can’t control what happens at that ball game, but you’ve worked too hard to let tonight happen without giving it your all.” She gave me her infamous “You hear me?” look and closed the door.
I grabbed the coffee Mom brought me and then stepped out onto my balcony. The air smelled like freshly cut grass, and the sun already burned brightly above the tall oaks lining our driveway. The forecast called for a warm day but with low humidity and a clear night.
It would be a beautiful evening for a baseball game.
And an even more beautiful one for an opening night under the stars.
Mom was right. I couldn’t change the course of events that led to the Legion League Championship, but I could change my own future and do Grandma Marguerite proud by lighting the shit out of Romeo and Juliet tonight.
Who knew where I’d end up next year? But I sure as hell wasn’t about to let that uncertainty keep me from doing my job.
A Crowley always finished what she started.
Chapter Thirty-Six
Reed
“I’m not going to play because I can. I’m going to play because I deserve it.”
—Greg Maddux
As we finished our side shuffles with arm crossovers, the lights of Crowley Park burned brightly, despite the faint gray color of the sky. After some slow forward lunges, half of us moved on to twenty-yard sprints while the rest did more static stretching. Tom, Cameron, and I stood near the dugout and used our J-Bands to loosen up our shoulders.
Even with thirty minutes until opening pitch, the stands were packed. Energy and excitement buzzed through the air.
