Page 59 of Fair Ball

After we’ve gone through each one, we find a bench on the top floor in the children’s play area. It’s small, and we’re forced to sit right next to each other, hip to hip, shoulder to shoulder. Millie doesn’t seem to mind, and I certainly don’t either. “So you’re really into conservation, huh?”

She raises her brows at me because I should already know the answer. “We only have one Earth. At least, that we know of, and I hate to sound too much like my mother, but if we don’t care for the gifts the Lord gave us, then what is even the point?”

I can’t disagree. “You are…”

Tension lines the corners of her mouth as if she’s expecting an insult, but she should already know I would never insult her. But her worry speaks to her past, the lingering hurt that I’m determined to make sure she never feels again.

“You’re brilliant. All the knowledge you have, the way your mind works, I think you’re brilliant. Fascinating.”

Her cheeks warm with pink. “Really?”

“Yeah.” I huff, affronted on her behalf. “Has someone told you you’re not?”

“No, but… Not everyone appreciates my lectures.”

“I love your lectures.”

She smiles and sets her head on my shoulder. “Thanks for bringing me here. This was really fun.”

“Good.” I think I’ll see if I can rent out the zoo. Look at live animals next time. For now, I say, “I was a little nervous you’d be bored.”

“No. Never. I love museums. I love to learn. Made me really popular in school,” she jokes, and I wrap my arm around her, nudging her head up so she’ll meet my gaze.

“What was school like for you?”

“Hard. Elementary school was…a lot of learning girls were meant to be seen and not heard. Sugar and spice and everything nice. My parents never made me feel that way, but society has a way of forcing girls into a box, and it took me a while to realize what that box was. I eventually figured it out, figured out how to be quieter and not talk about what I loved so much. I tried really hard to fit in, especially once puberty hit. It was difficult for me to understand how, all of a sudden, my friends only wanted to talk about boys when I was focused on collecting cans for my recycling drive to earn my Civic Leadership badge in Girl Scouts. But overnight, I had to learn how to put on mascara and talk about what boys wanted to talk about.”

“Yeah? What was that?”

“Sports.”

I bite back a tremulous smile at her deadpan reply, but then she goes on. “Needless to say, I did not have much luck with boys.”

“Until senior week.”

She sniffs a laugh. “Yeah. I got lucky, all right. The only positive out of that night is Noah. Having to see my friends go off and experience college, losing the relationships I’d tried so hard to gain in the first place, it was difficult to accept. How easily everything came for them and how easily they could throw it away, boyfriends, hookups, friendships. Me… It hurt. But, I guess, what else were they supposed to do? They were worried about midterms, and I was worried about diaper changes.”

She leans her head against my shoulder again. “What were you like in school?”

“I don’t know. I didn’t care about it much. I didn’t like it. My brother was the one with good grades.”

“Is that your villain origin story? He got all As and you got Cs.”

“No, I got As. Nothing else would have been accepted.”

She hums, interested. “So that’s your origin story. Too much pressure.”

“Yeah, I guess. So, what do you want to do? Do you still want to be a vet?”

“No.” She sits up. “You’re not getting out of it that easily.”

“I don’t know what you want me to say.”

“Anything. Tell me anything. I’ve been talking all morning, but you’ve barely said one word.”

“I like to hear you talk.”

“Austin.”