Falling for You

Falling for You Steven Bloemeke Copyright © 2023 Steven Bloemeke All rights reserved. ISBN: 9798389987418 DEDICATION This book is dedicated to my mother, who is always there for me. Table of Contents Chapter 1 – A Chance Meeting Chapter 2 – The Pep Rally Chapter 3 – Whiting vs. Boton Chapter 4 – Contact I Chapter 5 – After Contact Chapter 6 – Corn Maze Chapter 7 – Tennis Match Chapter 8 – Contact II Chapter 9 – Coming Out Chapter 10 – Another World Chapter 11 – New Life Chapter 12 – New Hope Chapter 13 – Street Children Chapter 14 – Thanksgiving Epilogue – Homecoming Chapter 1 – A Chance Meeting “Thirty – love!” shouted a girl at the far end of the tennis courts. What can I do? It just isn’t possible to get from the band wing to the 300-wings in three measly minutes! “Nice shot!” shouted the girl’s opponent. With these stupid short legs of mine—the ones which had gotten me into this mess in the first place—I ran across the court to retrieve the loose ball. Isn’t this slave labor? I thought, referring to the sentence I was being forced to serve. Sure, teachers have the right to assign detention as they feel fit, but how is forcing me to pick up tennis balls for an hour an appropriate punishment for being late? I ran across the court to grab the next tennis ball. Why is thirty seconds of Mr. Grant’s time worth an hour of mine? And to make it slavery just adds to my woes. It’s illegal! It’s 2006 already! As much as I’d love to keep on complaining, I had a job set out in front of me. I was stuck out here until four, and no amount of griping would change that. “Forty – love!” At least he wasn’t going to call my parents about this little incident, meaning I could pretend I had an extra band rehearsal after school. The ball went flying again, and I shook away my thoughts to follow its trajectory. I didn’t have to understand the game they were playing; I just had to run and pick up the ball when they stopped hitting it. The girl hit the ball, returning it the other way, and my thoughts drifted again. Why couldn’t it be an extra band rehearsal instead of standing out here in this heat? The sun never quite realizes when summer ends, leaving these early September days hot and miserable. “Forty – fifteen!” I pushed aside the ginger hairs impeding my vision, along with the sweat droplets forming on my forehead, and took a second to heave out a sigh. “That’s game!” I ran out to collect the final ball of the game. How do these girls on the tennis team survive? Not only are they running around in this heat, but five of the seven have long hair! Even if they pull it back into a ponytail, it’d still insulate their heads. They should all cut their hair to the shoulders like I did! The next duo stepped forward to begin a new game. I leaned back on a rusty chain-link fence forming the boundary of the tennis courts. There was a guy on the other side of the fence observing the practice—one of the teammate’s boyfriends, most likely—and he shifted over a bit as I blocked his view. “I’m so bored, I could die. When can I go home?” I groaned. Not that there’d be much to look forward to at home. I’d have a nice dinner, play my trombone for a bit, read, and get to bed by ten. But when I considered the alternative… “Look out!” I snapped to attention just long enough to see the green sphere of death hurtling toward my nose. I ducked. Too little, too late. The ball smacked me square in the forehead. The next thing I knew, I was flat on my back, admiring the tired leaves of the trees, which were still a month away from turning the same shade of ginger as my hair. A strong scent flooded my nostrils, bringing a smile to my face. Lilacs? It was so sweet, like I’d been magically transported to a garden. “Are you all right?” A girl entered my field of vision, her eyebrows furrowed in concern. To call her beautiful would be an understatement. Her body was, how should I say it… too perfect? She had all the curves a girl could ever dream of! Her skin was smooth and silky, radiating the light of the sun and glistening with each movement, with none of the tans of summer, likely thanks to the thin sheet of sunscreen the team had put on first thing after school. “Hello? Are you all right?” She tugged at the neckline of her magenta cap-sleeved shirt. Oh, right, she’d asked me a question. “Um… I think I’m fine enough.” The girl brushed aside a strand of her raven-black hair that had somehow escaped its ponytail bindings. It was much longer than mine, going down to the middle of her back. She must’ve used an expensive brand-name shampoo to get that kind of a shine. Who was she? She wasn’t in the band, nor any of my classes, making her one of the conglomerate of nameless people among the thousands in my school. But she seemed familiar somehow. “Are you sure? You took that ball pretty hard to the face.” She knelt next to me. “Sorry, it was all my fault. I’m such a klutz. Do you have a headache? Can you see straight? Do you want to go to the nurse?” Now that she mentioned it, I did have a bit of a headache from the contact. Was this a concussion? If it was, no big deal. I could read up online how to treat one. That would be so much better than wasting the rest of my afternoon in the nurse’s office. “I’m fine.” I pulled