Stealing Bases

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright Page

  Dedication

  one

  two

  three

  four

  five

  six

  seven

  eight

  nine

  ten

  eleven

  twelve

  thireteen

  fourteen

  fifteen

  sixteen

  seventeen

  eighteen

  nineteen

  twenty

  twenty-one

  twenty-two

  twenty-three

  twenty-four

  twenty-five

  twenty-six

  twenty-seven

  twenty-eight

  twenty-nine

  thirty

  thirty-one

  thirty-two

  thirty-three

  thirty-four

  thirty-five

  thirty-six

  thirty-seven

  thirty-eight

  thirty-nine

  forty

  forty-one

  forty-two

  forty-three

  Acknowledgements

  Stealing Bases

  RAZORBILL

  Published by the Penguin Group

  Penguin Young Readers Group

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  ISBN : 978-1-101-54322-1

  Copyright 2011 © PrettyTOUGH Sports, LLC

  Series created by Jane Schonberger

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  prettyTOUGH Novels:

  PRETTYTOUGH

  PLAYING WITH THE BOYS

  HEAD GAMES

  STEALING BASES

  For Sydney and Sabrina

  one

  From this day forward, I, Kylie Elizabeth Collins, will not freak out at any more girls who touch, talk to, wink at, brush up against, sit next to, cheer for, check out, or proclaim their undying love for my ex-boyfriend, Beachwood Academy basketball star Zachary Michael Murphy.

  Wait a second. Scratch check out. And touch. And definitely the one about proclaiming their undying love. That’s just wrong. I mean, Zachary and I were together for a really long time. Were these girls born without hearts?

  At least I’m trying here. I want to change my crazy-Kylie rep and begin the spring season with a brand-new attitude. No more freaking out. No more psychotic behavior. And definitely no more back and forth with my ex. Softball season is here. It’s time to get serious.

  Meet the new Kylie Collins.

  “Cutting down the net was the best part of three-peating,” our senior captain, Tamika, recalls as my B-Dub basketball buds and I wait in line for cupcakes at Sprinkles.

  “What? Are we seriously reliving our glory days? Basketball season has been over for months already.” My lip-glossaholic best friend, fellow junior Missy Adams, rolls her eyes.

  My teammates laugh.

  I don’t.

  Although I do agree with Missy, basketball season seems like a distant memory after everything I’ve been going through lately. A few months ago, my entire world came crashing down when my parents split up. Toss in my mom moving crosscountry to work in New York City, my dad’s obsession with “living a balanced lifestyle,” this stupid “three-B” list of all the girls the guys on the basketball team hooked up with, and some serious Zachary-cheating rumors, and that’s enough to drive any girl crazy. And I’m not one to keep emotions on the down low. So, needless to say, I’ve been a wee bit stressed.

  I force a smile and stare at my shiny, silver basketball championship ring. At least I still have sports.

  Attending Beachwood Academy, an elite private school in Malibu, is tough enough, but snagging a three-peat was close to impossible. But we B-Dub girls did it. And to congratulate us, our headmaster presented the team with gorgeous sapphire rings at a lunch reception held in our honor at the Beachwood Country Club. Which explains why I’m now busy reminiscing instead of squeezing in some extra pitching practice before tomorrow’s tryouts.

  Not that I’m in danger of not making the cut this year . . .

  My gaze drifts from my ring to my red velvet cupcake, my mouth watering at the thick cream cheese icing. What a perfect way to begin my new life the day before my fave season—softball—officially kicks off. What could be better than spending the day with my stunning new ring, my favorite dessert of all time, and my best buds?

  “I can’t believe I’ll never play another high school basketball game again,” Tamika laments, pulling on the strings of her USC hoodie.

  “But you’ll be playing college ball next year, which is way better,” Eva, a fellow junior, adds. She removes a white iPod bud from her ear. “Uh-huh. Uh-huh. Uh-huh,” she sings, bobbing her head to the Trojan fight song.

  Everyone laughs except me.

  I’m too busy thinking about how to become the next Tamika to bother faking a laugh. Like Tamika, I’m determined to one day be recruited by a Division I school. Only it’ll be for softball. And I’ll be crosstown in UCLA’s blue and gold.

  Not that UCLA knows I exist yet. But I’m planning on fixing that with bi-weekly emails, a professionally produced highlight reel, and recruitment packages to all the coaches and assistants. Don’t ever say that I’m not willing to put in the work. Now I just have to put Zachary and the three-B list behind me.

  “What I still can’t believe is that the guys actually competed against each other to see how many girls they could hook up with. That was horrible. . . .” Abby, a freshman JV starter and occasional varsity sub, announces.

  Horrible? I admit, the three-B list sucked, but I wouldn’t call a bunch of boys acting like dogs “horrible.”That’s normal.What’s horrible is that I’m living in my ex-boyfriend Zachary Murphy’s guesthouse right now because my dad refuses my mom’s alimony and claims our old house had bad karma.

  “Seriously,” Zoe, Zachary’s younger sister, a freshed-face frosh, says. She nudges her best friend Abby’s arm. “Can I have a piece?” Zoe asks, pointing to Abby’s cupcake. I stare at her Abercrombie tee and think about th
e Christmas morning that I gave it to her. Zoe is the only person here who knows where I’m really living: a cottage in her backyard. My hand goes to the silver heart charm hanging around my neck, a present from Zachary that same Christmas morning.

  “Only at B-Dub. Tamika rolls her eyes behind her sunglasses.

  Freshman Taylor Thomas glances up at me, and I untangle a piece of long, blonde hair from the clasp of my necklace. I feel like she’s silently telling me to ditch the Tiffany open-heart pendant. But it’s not like she even knows how I got it. Just because she had a quick fling with my boyfriend, ahem, ex-boyfriend, doesn’t give her insider info. She sees me glowering at her and looks back down at her strawberry cupcake.

  Sensing the tension, Missy steps in to save me from myself. “So, what have you been up to since the season ended, Tay?” Missy asks.

  “Oh, not much.” Taylor smiles, looking relieved that someone rescued her from my silent wrath.

  “Not much?” Hannah Montgomery intervenes, gazing at her BFF Taylor with her crystal-blue eyes. “You mean since you killed it as a model in the Spring Fashion Show and kissed Matt Moore in front of the whole school?”

  How did Taylor think she had the right to bring Hannah today? It’s not like Missy or I asked for a freshman parade.

  Taylor squirms in her wrought-iron chair and turns the exact same color as her strawberry cupcake. “Well, you know . . . I . . . ”

  Hannah shakes her head in mock disapproval and then looks at the rest of us. “I didn’t know Taylor had it in her.”

  “Believe me, Taylor has it in her.” I laugh, breaking a piece of cupcake in between my fingers. “JK,” I add for good measure, even though I don’t really mean it.

  “Kylie. Remember our deal,”Tamika reminds me, holding up three fingers. “Basketball Before Boys.”

  “I was just kidding,” I say, shoving the piece of pure decadence into my mouth. “And anyway, it’s not like it’s basketball season anymore. So, no more boy bans. We won the championship already, remember?”

  Tamika rolls her eyes. It’s clear that I’m not the only one who’s having a hard time letting last season go.

  “Subject change numero deux,” Missy announces. She gives me a look like I-know-what-you’re-going-through as I shove another piece of cupcake into my mouth.

  I definitely wouldn’t call Missy Zachary’s number-one fan, but she’s the only one who pseudo-gets what I’m going through—she’s had boyfriend troubles of her own.

  Jessica steps in. “Are you excited for all the college scouts coming to our softball games, Ky?” she asks, her almond eyes wide. Jessica is the only one of these girls who has played with me on both my basketball and softball teams.

  I’m tempted to say, “Hells yeah! I’m gonna tear it up there and UCLA is going to be dying to recruit me.” But I don’t think that will go over too well. Or really work for my plan: Attitude—Take Two. So I just say, “I guess,” which is the understatement of the century.

  Missy looks at me like I’m a moron not to toot my own horn. “Uh, hello, you’re amazing!” she exclaims. “You’re like the best pitcher Beachwood’s ever had.”

  “Ditto,” Eva adds.

  “Still working on the rise ball with Coach Malone,” I add. Playing for the American Softball Association, or ASA, on the side is a constant reminder of how much work I have to do. Although I am pretty amazing at both pitcher and second base (if I do say so myself), I’m far from the best and I’m definitely not a power pitcher. And if I want UCLA to pay attention to me, I’ll have to increase my speed and nail the rise ball. And quickly.

  “If anyone can do it, you can,”Taylor adds.

  I just ignore her.

  Jessica doesn’t. “Yeah,” she chimes in, licking icing off her finger. “Remember the screwball last year? You thought you’d never nail it and now it’s your go-to pitch.”

  I think back to last year and how hard I worked on my screwball. And that’s when another memory of Zachary hits me . . . the zillionth one today. Night after night at the field with him dodging my screwballs as he played catcher for me until I gained control of the pitch. And now . . . I bite my bottom lip.

  “By the way, um . . . did you guys hear what weekend junior prom falls on this year?” Abby’s eyes scan the group.

  “Prom is in April, like always, right?” Missy asks, checking her lips in her compact.

  “Yeah, but it’s the same day as the Desert Invitational!” Abby continues, the pitch of her voice heightening. “I heard it at one of our student council meetings with Ms. Sealer. And since I’m hoping to make JV softball this year . . . ”

  Jessica juts out her bottom lip. “I thought Ms. Sealer said she was going to try to avoid a sports conflict.”

  Jessica’s a soph—it’s not like she could possibly care about prom as much as I do. The only reason she’d be going to the junior prom is because of her boyfriend Colin. She’s not even eligible for prom princess.

  “Not that it matters to me, but I’m sure the boys are clear,” Tamika says, rolling her eyes.

  “Always,” Missy adds, dabbing her lips with the wand.

  My mind starts to reel with how I’m never going to live my dream—well, my mom’s dream—of being named prom princess, just like her, when I realize something.

  “Beachwood Academy Softball hasn’t been invited to the Desert Invitational in like ten years,” I announce. “What are you guys worried about? We’re never going to be good enough to snag an invitation.”

  “You never know. We’re pretty stacked with Nyla at short and you on the mound,” Jessica says, wiping her mouth with a Sprinkles napkin.

  “Guess it’s a good thing no junior is going to invite me—I can’t imagine playing a tournament game the same day as prom,” Abby admits.

  And no Zachary to invite me . . . I gulp and slide the cardboard cupcake box across the wrought-iron table.

  “Call the ambulance. Kylie Collins just passed up a red velvet cupcake,” Eva jokes, elbowing me playfully.

  “Ha ha,” I mock my teammates. If only I opened up. If only I told them that I can’t imagine prom without Zachary, that I’m dying to be named prom princess, that I’m hoping it all magically comes together so that my mom sees me following in her footsteps and decides to visit on a regular basis. Maybe then they would realize why I’m such a mess. But the last thing I need is everyone knowing my business. Mom always says: Never show anyone your weakness or they’ll use it against you.

  “So, Ky, what are you going to do this year when you make prom court and have to pitch at the Desert Invitational the same day?” Jessica asks, sipping from her straw.

  “Yeah, sure,” I say. “Ending the season with a winning record is a maybe, but the Desert Invitational is tough . . . . ” I continue, “And besides, Missy is going to be the one who you’re all bowing down to.”

  “Yeah, only if you’re too busy flirting with the college coaches to make it to the ballroom,” Missy answers, doing her best impression of me waving at scouts.

  “Isn’t prom . . .” Hannah scrunches her nose. “Like two months away?”

  “Six weeks,”Taylor says, matter-of-factly.

  “Someone is counting down . . .” Tamika says, adjusting her ponytail.

  “Counting down to going with Matt . . . ” Eva jokes. Taylor giggles and gives Hannah a little nudge. “Counting down to wearing the gorgeous Banana Fad dress Hannah’s designing.”

  Gag.

  “Aw . . . ” Hannah stops playing with the bottle cap necklace she insists on wearing and gives Taylor a quasi-hug.

  “It’s not just my dress that I can’t wait for. It’s all the pre-prom prep!” Jessica announces, bouncing in her seat.

  “I know! Now I don’t have to justify it to my mom when I get a mani-pedi, facial, and massage all in one week!” Missy’s eyes widen.

  “Miss, don’t forget about your hair . . .” I reply. I can’t resist indulging in Missy’s excitement.

  “Ohmigod, my hair!
” she exclaims.

  “And what about your dress?” I continue.

  “My dress . . . I . . .” Missy sputters.

  “You didn’t tell her?” Hannah asks, disbelievingly.

  “I didn’t have a chance . . . I . . .”

  “You didn’t tell me what?” I ask, my eyes demanding an immediate answer.

  Missy just stares at me guiltily.

  I glare back. What could Hannah possibly know about Missy that I don’t?

  “Missy and I . . . We’re in business together. Fashion design,” Hannah announces.

  “You’re working?” I screech.“With Hannah?”

  Missy stands up and tosses the empty box into the trash can. As she passes by me, she mumbles a “yeah.”

  “Yeah, we’re partners. And we’re counting on prom to be our entry into the big time,” Hannah explains, a glob of frosting smeared across her lower left cheek.

  Ew.

  “Hannah tracked me down a few weeks ago.” Missy plops back down in the seat next to me. “I find the clients, Hannah designs. That’s all . . . .” Then, leaning over, she whispers in my ear, “It’s for college . . . More later.” Missy looks at me for confirmation that this is okay.

  It’s not.

  I stare blankly back. Apparently, I’m not the only one with secrets.

  Taylor interjects. “I’m so, so excited for you guys! I knew Hannah was planning on designing my prom dress, but when I found out a couple weeks ago that it’s the first dress from your collective new line . . . That’s just so much better!”

  A couple weeks ago? Wait. Where have I been? How long have they been hanging out?

  “Thanks, Tay. I know we’ll dazzle you with our impressive skills,” Missy replies.

  “So, who’s in besides Taylor?” Hannah licks the frosting off her cheek.

  Gross.

  “I am!” Tamika claps. “I’d love to have a one-of-a-kind dress for senior prom.”