Disclaimer: This is part of an original work of fiction. It belongs to me- the characters, their lives- everything. Don't steal it. Thanks. Enjoy.
~~~
"Wednesday," I mutter to myself, pulling my cache of tea down from its home shelf. "What tea do we drink on Wednesday?"
It's a good question. Today is an important day, so I know I have to start it off with a good tea.
Verbena. That's clearly the only answer.
It's 6:30a.m., and though I know she'll kill me for it, I decide to wake Emily up just a little bit early today. I'm excited- it's not every day that I get to see my girlfriend play an actual game of baseball.
I practically skip over across our adjoining yards to go wake her up, though I'm careful not to spill the already brewing hot liquid. I don't bother to knock on the door of the house- Mr. and Mrs. Tate are already awake and getting ready for their days, and they smile as they see me walk in.
"Good morning, all!" I say to them. "Don't mind me, just your basic knight in shining armor coming to wake your slumbering maiden."
"Ah, and how do you think you're going to do that?" asks Mr. Tate.
"With a magical infusion of water and Verbena leaves, how else?" I say, holding up the two mugs. "And if that endeavor fails, I may venture forth with a small kiss."
He rolls his eyes and continues to tie his tie, and I walk quietly into Emily's room.
She's still asleep, sprawled all over the bed, with her covers wrapped around her arms and legs- she tosses a lot in her sleep. She's frowning at her dream, her eyebrows drawn together in protest of some imaginary opposition. She bites her lip and turns her head slowly.
I gently set the mugs of tea on the short bookcase by her bed, and slowly lean in to her face. I only plant the beginning of a small kiss on her lips before she leaps to life in surprise, clonking me over the head.
"What the Hell?" I say, rubbing the back of my head as she laughs, realizing what she's done. "Excuse me, Terminator Ginger, could you please direct me to my girlfriend's room? She's got hair like yours, but she's a whole lot nicer."
"Oh, shut up, Aug," she says, grabbing me by the collar of my shirt and pulling me on top of her on the bed for a kiss.
Damn.
"Oh, man," I groan, pulling away from her. "Terminator Ginger, my girlfriend better not find out about this."
She laughs, and then groans as well as she checks the clock sitting beside our tea.
"August, it's 6:45. What are you doing?"
"I was excited for my girlfriend's first baseball game, so I decided to wake her up a little early," I sigh. "But now I think I'm just going to stay here in bed."
"Oh, well, if you must stay," she says, pecking me on the lips.
"I must, I must," I say, quoting the movie Blazing Saddles in between kisses.
"Is that tea you brought me?" she asks, looking pointedly at the mugs next to her clock.
"Nah, it's coffee."
She stares for a moment, looking distinctly unamused.
"August."
"Mm?"
With all the trouble I'm having focusing right now, a person would almost think I was lying in bed with an incredibly beautiful girl or something of the sort.
"I moved here from New York. Upstate, yes, but I still recognize the smell of coffee in my sleep."
I sigh.
"Okay, so I was lying and being sarcastic."
I sit up and Emily unwinds the blankets from her body and spreads them across both of our legs. We must look like a little old couple. I smile goofily at the thought.
"What?" she asks, cuddling just a bit into my shoulder, smiling at me like I'm the best thing that's happened in her teenage life.
Or maybe I just think she's looking at me like that because that's how I'm looking at her.
"I'm just really happy," I say, smiling at her.
"About what?"
"You."
I kiss her again, slowly, and I feel her smile against my lips.
"And that's what I get for dating a sappy, tea-drinking southerner," she teases me.
"And you love every sappy, tea-filled minute of it."
"Speaking of, is that tea next to my alarm clock supposed to be drunk cold?"
"Ah, no. Hand it over?"
She obliges, taking out the tea bags and tossing them underhanded into the small trash can across the room.
"Nice," I comment.
"Yeah," she says, shrugging. "It's like I practice a lot or something."
"Yeah, like you're on a team devoted to throwing stuff," I agree in a fake stoner voice.
She takes a sip of her mug of barely warm tea and pulls a face like she's sucking on a cough drop. She sticks her tongue out like a little kid who's being forced to eat spinach. It makes me laugh.
"What, did your silly southern girlfriend brew the yucky tea too strong for you?" I tease.
"No, my silly southern girlfriend didn't sweeten the strong tea she brewed for me, because she's lazy as hell, and refuses to buy her own sugar."
"You know you love it," I say, snuggling up to her.
"I don't know, Aug," she says, faking a big, pensive sigh. "This sugar thing may just be a deal breaker."
I try to keep the straightest possible face as I deliver the next line; I've watched Nicolas Cage do the very same thing in countless movies, so I figure I can do it now.
"So. It has come to this."
She shakes her head, rolls her eyes, and calls out her door.
"Mom!"
"Yes, Emmy?"
I snicker a bit at her expense, elbowing her in the ribs just a bit, echoing 'Emmy' quietly. She hates that her mom calls her that, but I actually think it's kind of cute; my mother's nickname for me is "August". She's a creative woman, my mother is.
"Could you bring us the sugar, please?"
"Okay, sweetie."
Her mother walks in and smiles at me.
"I see you woke up Sleeping Beauty without much difficulty."
"Yeah... Not really," I say as Emily laughs a bit at me.
"No?"
"I may have hit her upside the head," explains Emily.
Her mother laughs.
"And that's what I get for putting my daughter in self-defense classes."
She hands Emily the box of sugar packets and, smiling, exits the room with a bounce in her step that I will forever associate with people who do yoga.
"You were in self-defense classes?" I ask, grabbing two sugar packets and pouring them into my tea.
"Yeah," says Emily, doing the same. "It was almost a waste of money."
"You're not vicious enough or something?"
"I was going through a pacifist stage."
"That would do it," I say with a small smile.
I don't doubt for a minute that Emily would have played with pacifism, especially with how she's responded to Sellers. As that thought comes to mind, I decide to shove it away- I'm not going to let him ruin this morning like he ruined last night.
"So why wasn't it a waste?" I ask, genuinely curious.
"Three reasons," she says, stirring the sugar in with one of her fingers- we'd forgotten to ask for spoons as well. "One, it made my reflexes better, which my coaches loved."
"I would too, as a coach, but right now, my head's starting to hurt."
"Oh, don't whine," she replies, kissing the back of my head where she smacked me earlier.
"What's reason number two?" I ask, smiling.
"Reason number two is that, somehow, it made my fastball faster."
"Huh."
"Yeah," she agrees to the look of puzzlement on my face. "I didn't see that one coming either."
"But neither does anyone looking to try and hit one of your fastballs," I say proudly.
"That's always nice," she admits.
"Reason number three?"
"Is that I now have the ability to pin my little brothers and get them to bathe."
"Not just little brothers, but new neighbors when they don't want to lie down," I remind her.
"That's true too," she agrees.
Because I love Verbena tea a lot, I finish my mug before Emily's even gotten to the middle of hers.
"So? What's the plan today?" I ask, bouncing a little in the bad out of excitement.
"Does this tea have caffeine in it, or something?" she asks, suspicious.
"No, I'm just really excited about today!" I say giggling a bit and smiling like an idiot.
"Okay, well, if you say so," allows Emily. "First on the agenda for today is getting dressed."
"Anything special?"
"Yeah. The guys have to dress up in a shirt and tie, and I have to dress... nice, I guess?" she finishes, unsure.
"I think the term is 'semi-formal'" I add.
For guys, dressing in semi-formal wear is easy. A shirt, tie, slacks, and either a vest or sweater is pretty much a no-brainer. For girls, though, it's harder.
"What do I wear?" she asks.
"Probably a skirt," I say.
Ever since I grew my own brain and discovered that not all girls need to be extremely lady-like at all times, I stopped wearing skirts, so I'm really not sure.
"Okay. I think I can handle that."
Emily finishes her tea and climbs out of the bed, with me close behind her.
"You," she says, turning to face me with a stern look. "Thank you for the surprise wake-up and the tea, but it's 7 now. Go home and get dressed and actually eat something."
"Aw, okay," I say, attempting and failing at a pout. "But you make sure to eat some protein."
"If you'll care to remember, I've been playing team sports since I could write my name," she says, ushering me out of the door. "I think I know how to feed myself."
~~~
At 7:30a.m. sharp, I am sitting on my front porch beside my backpack, waiting on Emily to come over. I don't think she'll be late this morning, but I still don't like being late, so I'm anxious.
I smile as I hear her house's front door close and see her walk across the lawn, her backpack over her shoulder. I walk over to meet her halfway.
"Nice outfit," she says, smiling. "But something tells me that more people would be expecting me to wear plaid."
I'm wearing a purple and white- our school colors- plaid shirt with the sleeves rolled up and a pair of plain black shorts. I thought I'd support the team just a bit.
"Yeah, well you know," I say, laughing a bit. "Those lesbians just love their plaid."
"They do. They really do."
We begin walking and once again, I wish I could hold her hand.
"You look nice, by the way," I say offhandedly.
She's wearing a soft blue shirt with a khaki skirt- casual, but still nice enough to not look out of place with the rest of the team. The two front bits of her hair are pulled back and tied with a purple ribbon.
"Thanks, Aug," she smiles and slips her free arm through mine.
"Actually," I say softly. "You look absolutely gorgeous, but I didn't want to say so too loud."
"Really?" she asks, smiling, but with just a touch of a look that says she wishes we weren't hiding this relationship.
"Yeah. I was afraid that if I said it louder, everyone would hear, and agree, and try to take you from me."
She blushes just a bit, and I feel proud- it's really not easy to make her blush.
"Thanks."
"No problem."
We walk in happy silence for a minute before I decide to get her mind back on the game ahead of her.
"So what's the strategy tonight?"
"For the game?" she asks.
I nod.
"Seduce the other team," she begins. "Show them just a bit of ankle from the mound, and they'll just throw the game."
I laugh and shake my head. She's got my sense of humor, and I still can't believe how lucky I am for that.
"No, really."
"Okay," she says, still smiling, but silently agreeing not to joke around anymore. "The team and I have agreed on the element of surprise."
"Oh?"
"Yeah. The other team doesn't know they're playing against a girl, so when they see that I'm an active member of the team, they'll hopefully assume that I'm no good."
"And then you'll just whip out a fastball-"
"Or a wicked curveball and knock them on their asses?" she finishes for me. "Hopefully."
"Sounds like a good plan to me," I say.
We're walking through the school's parking lot by now- plenty of the student body is just standing around their cars, talking to each other and messing around.
Jonathon's truck pulls into a parking spot just ahead of us, and he hops out and goes to the passenger side to help someone out. As we approach the car, I can see that it's Kyle, struggling to get out of the truck that caused the full-leg cast that is now hindering him.
"Be careful, Johnson," I bark at him, surprising him. "We don't want the truck to hurt you again."
"Oh, hey, August," he says, nodding to me. "Emily."
"Hey, Kyle," she says, smiling. "Need any help?"
"What, does no one think that I can help without him falling apart?" asks Jonathon.
"Nope," I say as Emily goes to help Kyle out of the truck.
"Well, fine."
As soon as Kyle is vertical, complete with his backpack over his shoulders and his crutches under his arm, he speaks up.
"So? What are you two ladies talking about?"
"Game strategy," says Emily.
"Ah, yes, the element of surprise," says Kyle, nodding.
"I'm still proud of myself for coming up with that one," says Jonathon, smirking.
"Dude, you didn't come up with it, you just said what we were all thinking," Kyle says, hitting Jonathon in the stomach playfully.
"I did not."
"Yeah, you did. After her try-out, it was kind of obvious what her strategy would be."
I raise one of my eyebrows at that, silently asking for an explanation.
"She surprised us," says Jonathon, shrugging.
"As always, I am awesome," adds Emily, pretending to be cocky.
"Speaking of being awesome," says Jonathon. "Don't forget team lunch today."
"Oh yeah," replies Emily. "I won't. I'll be there."
"I'm not invited, am I?" I say, not even pretending to feel left out.
Personally, if I never have to go to a team-only function ever again, I will die a happy woman.
"No, sorry," says Kyle. "I know how disappointed that makes you."
"Yeah, I'm so torn up over it," I say, and Emily laughs.
Just then, the bell to dismiss us to our first class of the day rings, and the groups gathered all over the parking lot begin to dissipate.
"All right, then," says Emily. "I guess I'll see you guys at lunch."
"Later," say the two boys in unison before leaving.
She pulls me in for a quick hug.
"I'll see you in the hall?"
"Maybe. Bye, Terminator Ginger."
She laughs.
"Bye, my silly, tea-drinking, southern girlfriend."
Forget never going to team functions; if I die now, having heard that last, I can happy.
~~~
AN:
Question for comments: Do you think the strategy will work?
Comment, Vote and Fan- Should you so desire.
Much Love And Until Next Time,
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