Lurlene McDaniel by Hit & Run Page A

want me, all of them, and just because I can throw a baseball. We're on the plane, flying back to Asheville after a layover in Atlanta from the West Coast.
    “I like Southern Cal and UCLA,” I say, not that he asked my opinion.
    “No decisions until your offers from the Carolinas come in.”
    I want to leave the Carolinas, but I know this isn't the time to make my case. “I still have to finish out the high school year.”
    “I'm not sure you should. What if you get injured? No need for you to take too many risks withyour arm. This is just high school. You've got years of games ahead of you.”
    I panic. Playing ball is the only reason I get up and go to school every day. “I can't let Coach and the team down,” I say. “We have a shot at State. It would be nice to win that. It'll look good on my resume.” I'm smart enough to use his lingo.
    He looks thoughtful. “It would be nice. I'll talk to your coach. Maybe you can play, just not too much.”
    I feel like I've dodged a bullet.
    “Want a beer?” Dad asks.
    “You'd let me have one?”
    “Come on, son. It's not like I don't know you drink the stuff.” He takes a sip of his second bourbon and water since takeoff. “The trick,” he continues, “is to know how to hold your liquor. And to not do stupid things when you drink.”
    My stomach knots.
What's he saying?
“Such as?”
    “Oh, I don't know … maybe like racking up your mother's new car by hitting a deer.”
    The way he says it turns my blood ice-cold. Laurie wouldn't have said anything to him, would she? “It was an accident,” I say, wishing I had his bourbon.
    He looks at me hard, like he's weighing justhow much to say, like he's waiting for me to spill my guts about the night of the accident. Like I won't.
    “According to the body shop where I took the car, the deer had green paint on it.”
    I feel like heaving, but I keep silent. Finally I say, “There were a lot of cars parked all over the yard at the party. One probably backed into Mom's. It was dark. I didn't look for damage before I drove off.”
    His gaze is steady and I hold it, knowing I can't crack. He nods slowly. “I guess it could have happened that way.”
    We stare at each other for a few more seconds, and I realize that something has been settled between us. “I'll take that beer now,” I say.
    He asks the stewardess for a beer, leans back against the headrest.
    He takes the beer and she walks away. He gives it to me. I sip it, dreading getting home and returning to my real life. And to Laurie.
    At least she didn't call me over spring break. The week apart has made me downright cheerful. How did I ever get into this? It had never crossed my mind that a girl like that could be so awful. I notice a pretty woman two rows up and across the aisle. It's nice to be able to look at another femalewithout Laurie going ballistic—just for show, and we both know it. But it's made me paranoid. I half expect Laurie to lean around the seat in front of mine and say,
“Thinking of cheating, Quin? Don't!”
    Why did I let that girl get so into my life? She was just another nothing to me. How could I know? If she opens her big mouth, college, baseball, my dad's approval rating—all of it's over. I sure didn't mean to hit that girl on her bike. I didn't even know it until—well, later. And maybe I should have told Dad a long time ago, but I didn't. Only a few more months and I can put this nightmare behind me.
    “You still dating Laurie?”
    His question catches me off guard. Is he reading my mind? “Sure.”
    “But you're willing to give her up when the time comes?”
    “As soon as camp starts.”
    “And she's good with that?”
    “She's known all along that I have other plans for my life.” My palms are sweating, so I set the beer down, afraid I'll drop it. “Nothing's going to get in my way, Dad.”
    He nods, looking satisfied with my answers. “She has calmed you down a lot; I'll give her that much.”
    “She doesn't like to