Foul Ball
Chapter 39: Jayce

By Saturday I still hadn't seen or spoken to Macey, despite the calls and texts I sent throughout the day, every day. I didn't see her on her usual route to school, and I of course didn't see her Saturday night at our home game, as ERU students crammed in and around the enormous bleachers outside to watch us play. I was distracted tonight, my eyes too frequently darting towards the bleachers, scanning the crowd for a long braid of brown hair or topaz eyes that I'd notice from a hundred feet away.

But she wasn't there. And I knew that.

We won the game, but not by much at all, and coach reamed our asses afterwards in the locker room for it. He was shouting, per usual, but even as his screams filled the crevices of the locker room, even then I couldn't focus. Couldn't pull the fuzziness out of my head.

"Hey, man, what the fuck?" Dalton said, punching me in the arm after the team had showered and dressed, either heading home or out for a beer. I stopped when he hit me. The pain barely registered. "What?"

"What the hell is wrong with you, dude? You're not even here."

"I have a lot on my mind, Dalton."

"Did something happen? With you and Macey, I mean? I didn't see her with you before the game."

I glanced over my shoulder, mostly just to replace an escape route from Dalton, and instead my eyes landed on another familiar woman. One who might be able to help me.

"It's fine, bro," I said, turning away from Dalton to walk away. "Don't worry about a thing." I picked up my pace until I was jogging across the lawn where a woman and who I presumed was her boyfriend were gathering up their jackets and empty soda cups from the game.

"Hey," I called, and the girl stopped to turn and look at me. "Kylie, right?"

She nodded, staring at me, and the dude by her side took her hand, as if to claim her before I tried. "What's up?" she asked.

"I'm Jayce," I said, and she nodded abruptly, like I was ridiculous for even introducing myself.

"I know."

On with it, man.

"Macey... Macey ended things with me on Wednesday night," I told Kylie, and she frowned.

"I'm sorry to hear that. She didn't tell me."

"No? I haven't seen her or heard from her in three days. I was hoping maybe you would be the one to shed some insight on what's going on with her. It seemed random and out of the blue, and she hasn't been feeling well, either. Has she talked to you about it?" I unconsciously crossed my fingers by my side with childish hope.

"Honestly, when she's home now she barely leaves her room," Kylie said with a helpless shrug. "We used to hang out and, like, watch movies together, but now she comes home and goes straight to bed. Says she's doing homework, but it's for hours on end. And if she's not home, she's at the fire station with her uncle."

"Erik Hansen?"

"That's the one."

"So she's still working?"

"I guess."

"Thanks."