How I Lost You (2 page)

The next night, Kya was late for work. I should probably have been mad at her, but instead, worst-case scenarios ran through my mind. My dad tells me she needs the same standards as everyone else, but I worry about her.

Pop!

There was a burst from the back office as Dad cleaned guns blocked by chopped paintballs. That loud noise didn't bother me, but when something soft brushed against my shoulder, I jumped and whirled around with a scream.

Kya stood behind me, her finger poised in the air from tapping my shoulder.

“You scared the crap out of me,” I said with my hands covering my heart.

“I see that. Need to change your pants?”

Before I could say anything, she held up her other hand. A gift bag dangled on her finger.

“For you.” She thrust it at me. “Early birthday present.”

I hesitated, then reached for it. The pink bag sprouted yellow tissue, blooming out like spring flowers. Not something I'd normally associate with Kya and kind of out of place at Splatterfest. But call me a gift slut, because it improved my mood.

“I texted you.” She perched her butt on a stool behind the counter. “You didn't answer.”

“Dad confiscated my phone.”

“Again?” She nodded toward the bag. “Open it.”

I glanced at the computer screen but pulled the paper from the bag and peeked inside. My heart thudded.

Tickets lay on the bottom.

I held my breath. Stuck my hand inside. Pulled them out and read.

“How? How? How?” I squealed.

She grinned the smile that made boys stumble over their feet or offer pretty much whatever she asked. “You don't want to know.”

No. For once, I didn't. “My parents will never let us go,” I moaned, kissing the tickets.

“Don't worry. I already cleared it with your mom,” she said. “She's coming to Seattle with us. She's going to come to the tradeshow, but you and I are solo for the party!”

“No way!” I squealed and hugged the tickets to my chest, then tucked them back in the bag and busted into a dance step.

“In like skin,” she said. The shine in her eyes gave away how pleased she was.

I stopped dancing midstep. “But wait. Aren't you supposed to go camping that weekend?”

Kya lifted her hand and made a symbol. Two fingers entwined. Me and her. Best friends. Sisters before misters. Buds before studs. “I canceled. You're more important than a boy.”

I jumped up and down again and then grabbed her by the shoulders and pulled her in close for a giant hug. She allowed a longer squeeze than usual before wiggling out of my grasp.

“James will be pissed.” She flipped her long dark hair over her shoulder. “He's on a mission to find you the best gift ever so you'll fall madly in love with him. But I win!” She raised her hands in the air and jogged in place to break an invisible victory ribbon.

Now wasn't the time for another lecture about being nicer to James. “James is not in love with me,” I told her.

She scowled toward the back of the warehouse where James was working.

“And birthday presents aren't a competition,” I added gently.

“I'll tell James to get you a gift card for clothes,” she said. “Then we can go shopping and get new outfits for the party.”

“Fat chance of that.” For a boy, James oddly prided himself on his gift-giving skills. “And the show is before my birthday.”

“Well. We have to go shopping. We need killer outfits for the party.”

That would be painful. Her idea of an appropriate outfit and my idea of an outfit were two entirely different things. We had to deal with crap from boys in paintball already. We didn't need to dress like girls from beer commercials.

She gestured her head toward the bag. “I did good, right?”

I clapped my hands. “Best. Present. Ever. We are going to rock that party.” I reached for Kya again, wrapping my arms around her, not caring about overdoing her hug quotient for the day.

“Seriously? Hot lesbians?” said a deep voice from the other side of the counter. “This place is better than I thought.”

We'd been so absorbed in our conversation, we hadn't noticed a couple of boys approach the other side of the counter.

I glared at them over Kya's shoulder and let her go. The one who spoke was big. As in linebacker-sized, kind of built like my brother, Indie, with the same man-swagger. I imagined it must cost his parents a lot to feed him. Mom complained about feeding Indie all the time.

I had an urge to give the boy the finger but decided against it. I could almost hear Dad's lecture about the proper way to conduct myself with difficult customers. Secretly he might be pleased if I stood up to the Neanderthals, but I took my job responsibilities seriously. I didn't flip off customers, even if they asked for it with a cherry on top.

“Can I help you?” I coated my voice with ice, picked up the gift bag, and slid it on a shelf under the counter.

The boy leered as if we were wrapped around a stripper pole and not wearing oversized Splatterfest T-shirts. His eyes fixed on Kya, but that was to be expected. Her weird combination of sharp features somehow worked together to make most guys her personal slaves. Long, thin nose. Pointy chin. Big eyes that seemed to look right inside people's souls. She even had vampish incisors that were wicked when she smiled. She could have been one of those high-fashion models who wore alien-like clothes and still made people want them.

“We're here for the two o'clock league. Glad we're early. That was smokin' hot.”

“For real? How hot can a hug be?” Kya placed both hands on the counter and leaned forward. “And, FYI, her dad owns this place.” Kya looked him slowly up and down. “He's also an ex-cop who doesn't like it when customers say inappropriate things to his daughter. He's been known to aim paintballs at private parts.”

He didn't look away. I saw her notice that too.

“Have you filled out your liability form?” I asked sweetly.

“Grace could totally kick your butt out there.” Kya nodded toward the arena.

“But she's so little. And cute,” said the boy behind him. I'd almost forgotten he was there, the way he quietly took up space.

I glared at him. “Seriously?” I hated the cute label. Like a bunny rabbit. Or a baby chick. Especially in comparison to Kya's exotic looks. Everyone said we made odd BFFs.

“So is a honey badger, but don't let it fool you,” Kya said. But she didn't take her eyes off the linebacker. He kept his eyes on her, not the least apologetic or intimidated. He had cojones, I'd give him that.

I straightened my back and stood taller. “I'm not that little,” I told the taller boy. “And definitely not cute.”

He grinned. “Sorry. I didn't mean it as an insult.” His looks improved when he smiled.

“Hmmph.” I handed him a waiver form to sign and pretended to see something urgent appear on the computer screen.

“Some paintballs hurt more than others,” Kya was saying to the linebacker. “Especially if you know where to aim. I don't suppose you thought to wear a cup?”

She was testing him. She never worried about saying proper things to customers or the wrath of my dad. I glanced at the guy, and the look on his face was perfect. His hands moved down.

“Her dad has nothing to worry about.” He winked at Kya. “I'm harmless. I've never played paintball before. I'll probably suck. Levi's the one who plays.” He gestured at the taller boy.

“Only outdoor. Woodsball,” he said to me and slid his waiver across the counter. I glanced at the signature. Levi Lewis.

“I've never run into female ballers. Especially cute ones.”

I narrowed my eyes again, but he smiled and winked.

“Good luck, Romeo,” Kya interrupted. “Gracie doesn't let guys get close on or off the field.”

My face warmed. He'd been talking about paintball, not dating me.

He tilted his head. “You're a force to be reckoned with?” he asked and crawled under my skin a little more.

“Careful of our Levi,” his friend said. “You don't want to piss him off.”

Levi lifted his middle finger. My heart skipped a beat. I wasn't sure if it was fear or intrigue.

I made a mental note to shoot him first if I played against him.

James walked out from the back room holding the cordless mike he used to talk to players in the arena. He almost tripped over something on the floor and made an oomph sound as he righted himself. He tended to move like a puppy with oversized paws and was the polar opposite of agile. His forte was brains, not brawn. I lifted my hand, and he grinned and pushed his glasses up his freckled nose.

James trotted closer. “Hey, Grace.” He put the mike down on the counter.

“What's the matter, James, I don't get a hello?” Kya said without taking her eyes off the linebacker. James glanced at him and then Kya.

“She writing a book on how to flirt using only her eyeballs?” he asked me.

Kya lifted her middle finger but didn't look at him. The linebacker seemed confused but the word flirt noticeably lit up his eyes.

I clicked Levi's name into the computer. “You can go get your coveralls over there.” I pointed to the locker room and glanced up as he walked off, pretending not to notice the perfection of his butt.

James pulled something out of his pocket and threw it at me, distracting me from perverted thoughts. I caught the box out of reflex. “Nerds!” I cried a little more enthusiastically than necessary.

“That's not a nice thing to call James,” Kya said without looking.

James snarled his upper lip. I wished they would make up already. I shook the box to hear the magical clacking Nerds before shaking a pile of colorful candies into my mouth, crunching into an explosion of tangy flavors, and smooching my nose up at the sensation.

“My name is Lucas Lewis,” the linebacker said to Kya, turning his back on James and me.

“His parents have awesome alliteration skills,” James said under his breath. “Loathsome Loser. Hey, look! I can do it too.”

Luckily, Lucas wasn't paying attention to us. His eyes were on Kya and I think, even through her oversized T-shirt, he sensed the new push-up bra she'd invested in. It made me uncomfortable the way he practically devoured her with his eyes, but she didn't seem to mind.

James held his palm out and I filled it with Nerds. He threw a handful in his mouth as we watched Lucas and Kya flirt.

“You're on the Lasers,” Kya told him. She slid a waiver form his way.

“Hallelujah. Another L word. His parents will be loopy. Lucas Lewis on the Lasers,” James mumbled.

I bit into my Nerds and threw James a warning look. His mouth sometimes burbled out thoughts he should keep inside his brain.

“You two brothers?” Kya nodded at where Levi had been standing.

“Cousins. He got sent to live with us because his parents think he's a badass.”

“Badass?” I asked, but the two of them didn't even look at me. They exchanged low words I couldn't hear.

“There're coveralls in the room over there,” I called to Lucas. He glanced at me and I pointed to the room Levi disappeared in. “You'll need a mask too,” I said, raising my voice. “Put the coveralls over your clothes and then go to the training room and wait for the rest of the players.” I poured more Nerds directly into my mouth. “Go get suited up.” I nodded my head at James. “He'll take you.”

James gave me a dirty look but walked away and Lucas followed. When they were out of hearing range, I turned to Kya. “What the hell?”

“I want to play that guy,” Kya said.

“You might get the chance. Dad said he might need us. Some of the guys can't make it tonight.” I pretended to shoot an imaginary paintball at her. “He's hardly a match for you.” I glanced over to where he'd disappeared. “Newb.”

“I didn't mean in paintball.”

“Gross,” I said, even though I'd known what she meant.

“He was hot.” She nibbled at her thumbnail.

“Hot? What about Brady? Your adoring boyfriend? Remember him?” Kya's boyfriends had short shelf lives but still…

“Brady is a boy,” Kya said.

“I think that's kind of the point,” I said.

“Well, unlike best friends, boys are replaceable.” She waggled her eyebrows. “Lucas is hotter than Brady, don't you think?”

Her current boyfriend was on the chopping block. My turn to raise my eyebrows and make a face. We could totally communicate through facial expressions, but she ended our discussion by turning away. Then she bumped my hip with hers. “So how about those tickets?”

My exasperation with her dwindled. “You're the best.”

We were already on the Lady Grinders' radar. Going to the VIP party in Seattle would give us a chance to firm up a spot on the team by impressing them in person. We could show them how much we wanted it and how dedicated we were to the sport. The party could literally change our lives.

I couldn't wait for the chance for the two of us to shine. I wanted it so badly my hands shook with excitement.

 

The front bell on the door of the Splatterfest entrance rang, and a group of boys strutted inside. A gaggle of girls followed behind them, chattering loudly.

“You grab waiver forms and I'll sign these guys in,” Kya called as the boys walked toward the counter.

I opened the drawer Dad had neatly labeled in his perfect printing. Nothing was misfiled or lost at Splatterfest. The boys lined up to sign in and I handed out forms. Their groupie girls huddled behind them. I recognized a couple girls from school, but they were younger and I didn't know their names. After a circle whisper-fest, one of the girls stepped forward. “Aren't you Kya Kessler?” she asked.

Kya glanced up and smiled. “That's what they tell me.”

The girl beamed with reverence. “I thought so! You're a senior next year, right?”

“Mmm-hmm.” Kya went back to writing but nodded.

“Cool.” The girl beamed happily. “I mean. I've seen you around. We're going to be sophomores.”

Kya smiled. She was used to girl crushes from younger girls. I loved that she treated them nicely.

“We were hoping you'd be here. I mean. Playing. We heard you worked at Splatterfest. It's so cool that you play paintball, but you're still so pretty and stuff.”

“Thanks,” Kya said. “You're pretty too.”

I thought the girl was going to pass out from happiness.

“You should try playing instead of spectating. You might love it, you know. ” She gestured at me. “Grace plays too. And we rock.”

The girl aimed some of her Kya worship at me. “I know. You're Grace Black. It's so cool.”

Famous by association. Story of my life. “Sign up,” Kya told her. I nodded agreement.

One of the guys put an arm around her shoulder. I recognized him. Steve Blender. Tourney player. Jerk.

“Nah. Stay in the bleachers, babe,” he said. “You look sexier in that outfit than you will in that one.” He pointed to a couple of guys going to the training room in their rental gear. He winked at her and then went off in the same direction.

I pretended to gag. “Cool story, bro,” I called.

“That guy is a perfect example of why you should learn to play paintball,” Kya said. “You can shoot him.”

“Grace, Kya!” James peeked his head out from the training room. “Your dad said you'll need to gear up.”

Grace and I high-fived each other. The girls clapped and I heard squeals of “Awesome. They're going to play.”

“He said not to mow down any newbs,” James called.

“A couple girls?” Kya said with a laugh. Kya's fans giggled happily and set off for the viewing bleachers outside the roped arena.

“Use rental gear, not your own. Rental markers too.” Markers was the term for guns. James gave the giggly girls a pained look and disappeared.

Kya and I changed and then went to the back counter and got out rental markers, pods, and paint for the players and spent a few minutes matching boys with guns and paint and answering questions.

James's voice boomed out over the speaker system in the arena, explaining the rules for the first teams, while he roamed outside the netted playing area. I smiled at the Darth-Vaderish imitation. A while later, Dad called for Kya and me. When James started the countdown in his Darth Vader voice, I tucked my head down.

Dad grabbed me by the arm. “Take it easy on the new guys,” he said.

On “one,” I wiggled away from him and ran. The popping of guns from eager amateurs had already started. Dad roamed into the middle of the arena with a bright orange vest on, acting as referee. He yelled at a player who accidentally shot him, and I laughed even as I ducked behind a bunker. The cheap rental masks were stale and my breath vibrated against the plastic. The visor was beat-up and scratched, and it was hard to see where Kya had gone.

I spotted her heading into a sniper position to back me. For her, sniper was painful because of the waiting and calculating. She preferred to move. I knew she'd signal me for a run-through when she was in position. My heartbeat sped up. A run-through was basically a suicide mission to take out other players and meant almost certain elimination.

She nodded and I darted out into the open.

Shots pelted out. Kya shot suppressive fire and I made it behind the bunker. I peeked around the corner and Kya gave me thumbs-up from her position.

Barely a second later, a guy on our team shouted, “I'm hit,” and stood, his hands in the air to show the other players he was out. First out on our side; both teams had four players left.

As he started walking toward the deadbox, Kya called, “Grace. Run-through. Go. Go. Go!”

I hesitated but went out, firing shots. I recognized Levi behind his mask and grinned because he was my first hit. I hit another player as I tore down the field line. Then a sting blasted me on the shoulder.

“I'm hit!” I yelled, ignoring the pain and lifting my hand in the air, shaking off the taste of defeat. I didn't like getting hit early in the game, but at least I'd taken out a couple of guys, including Levi. I started moving toward the deadbox when another sharp pang hit my leg.

I gritted my teeth and forced myself not to respond. There was a shout of laughter.

“Bonus ball lovin',” called out a male voice over pops of fire. It was impossible not to recognize the pompous, grating voice. Dirty to hit a dead player, but typical of Steve Blender.

I held in a yelp as another ball stung me in the fleshy part of my thigh and the pain was harsh. Then there was a snap of gunfire.

“Eat that!” From her sniper position, Kya jumped out and snapped Steve again with a decent hit to the head.

I couldn't help grinning under my mask. How could I not? But I knew she'd be getting an earful from my dad.

“Don't mess with my bestie,” Kya yelled.

There was another flurry of pops from the other team and then a splat hit her. “Can't handle some bonus balls then get out of the game,” Steve shouted at her. Or me. Not sure.

“I heard the girls called you trigger-happy, Steve, but I thought they were talking about the trigger in your pants,” Kya called.

The girls in the bleachers laughed.

“Okay. That's enough. You're going to seriously piss him off,” I told her.

Steve lifted his middle finger at her and headed to the deadbox.

The other team quickly took down our other new guy and then our last player was pinched and hit and we were done. Game over.

Dad stomped over. “You threw the game,” he yelled at Kya.

“Steve Blender hit Grace with bonus balls,” she said.

“Grace can handle it.” He waved his hand in the air toward the guys moving off the field. “We're not teaching them the game properly if you're acting like a hothead.”

“Steve does stuff like that to us all the time. He asked for it.” Kya flipped up her mask, jutted out her bottom lip. She shook her temper off and changed her expression, opening her eyes wide, sticking out her bottom lip, and plopping down on one knee. “Can you forgive me, Mr. B?”

Dad spun around and stormed off to give Steve a blast too.

I put out my hand to help her up, but Kya ignored it and stood on her own. I swatted her lightly on the back of her head. “You gotta admit that wasn't the smartest move.”

“Well, I did it for you. It pissed me off the way Steve disrespected you.” She threw her gun over her shoulder and started walking.

“Male pride,” I said as I fell in step beside her.

“Male asshole.”

“Not all guys are like that,” I reminded her gently, understanding her sentiments.

“That's true,” said a deep voice behind us.

We both turned. Levi. He'd lifted his mask and trained his dark eyes on me.

“He pulls crap like that and we're supposed to put up with it?” Kya asked.

He glanced at Kya. “Hey. Give him some credit. The way I see it, he'd do the same thing to most of the guys too,” he said.

I silently agreed.

“It pisses us off, guys who play dirtier because we're girls,” Kya said.

“Try doing what Grace does,” a voice called from outside the netting. We all stopped walking and turned. Lola Deane sat on the bleachers, watching us. Lola managed the outdoor paintball place. Dad and the owner were friends and helped each other out with leagues and sponsors. More importantly, Lola was also good friends with Betty Baller, the captain of the Grinders. I hadn't even known she was there, hidden behind the groupie girls who watched the exchange with interest.

“Grace keeps her head down and stays professional. Even when someone ball-bounces her,” she said. “You get respect by earning it. Not by reacting to jerks.”

“Excuse me for sticking up for my friend,” Kya called, and then stomped off the field.

Shoot. Not smart. I watched her go, knowing it was best to let her cool off before I said anything.

“How's it going, Lola?” I turned my attention back to the bleachers and pulled off my belt, checking my pods and seeing I still had paintballs left, thank goodness. They were too expensive to waste. Dad gave me a discount, but I had to pay for my own stuff. It would be awesome to reach the point where sponsorship would help pay for equipment. Making the Grinders would do that.

Lola got up and stretched long arms in the air. “Good. I stopped by on my way to work to check out your dad's new league. Nice run-through, Grace. Glad to see you're working on it.”

Lola glanced to where Kya had disappeared. “You two still a package deal?” she asked.

“Of course,” I said, tweaked by a tiny worry that Kya's behavior might reflect badly on me. “Kya's having a bad day.”

Lola nodded but didn't look convinced. “You want to come to our place Sunday?” she asked. “Practice with Thrasher?”

My heart pumped. Her semi-pro team.

“Both of us?” I asked.

“If both of you are looking to improve,” she called, and trotted down the bleacher steps and jumped onto the ground. “I have to get to work. See ya later! BYOP.”

Bring your own paintballs. She walked past the viewing area, and when she was out of sight, I pumped my fist in the air.

“Who was that?” Levi asked. I'd forgotten he was behind me.

I turned, beaming. “Lola. She knows everyone in paintball.”

“Awesome.” Levi walked with me to the back counter. “That was nice you made sure your friend was invited too.” He stepped aside to let me move ahead of him to put my gear down on the back counter.

“We're a team,” I told him.

“Yeah?” He put down his marker. “She lose her temper a lot?”

“No. She had my back. You know?” Part of me wished she hadn't, but I wouldn't admit that. I glared at him, remembering what his cousin said. That he was a badass with a temper of his own. “Steve thinks girls should be on the sidelines strutting in bikinis instead of playing on the field. He's a jerk.”

“I've had the dubious pleasure of meeting him. I concur.”

He sounded like James. My anger evaporated and I smiled. Maybe not so badass.

Dad walked over, reached for my rental marker, and nodded at Levi. “Kya has steam coming out of her ears,” he said. “Can you make sure she's okay and then change and cover the front counter for a few minutes until James gets back? He had to get some medicine to his mom.”

I nodded. Dad took the guns and hung them up. “I hear you're going to the tradeshow after all? Kya got tickets to the VIP party?”

I grinned and he smiled back.

“You better behave.”

I laughed and waved at Levi and then hurried to the change room. The girls' room was buried in the back by Dad's office. It had a couple of lockers and benches, a bathroom, and a shower. The boys' locker room was bigger and closer to the entrance but didn't have a shower.

I pushed through the door. Kya was already changed and sitting on a bench. She pulled out her earbuds as soon as she spotted me. “Can you hurry? I want to get out of here.”

“Chill out, cranky pants.” I smiled though, and she stuck her tongue out. “I have to stick around for a few minutes. Until James gets back. He's working late but had to leave to get something for his mom.”

I pulled my gym bag from a locker while she groaned. Then she lay flat on the bench, chewing her thumbnail, holding her phone, and staring up at the ceiling.

“Where do you have to go in such a hurry?” I asked her.

“Nowhere.” She fiddled with her phone.

“Kya? You okay?” I wondered if she was upset that Lola had seen her blow the game.

“Fine. Stupid Steve Blender.” She closed her eyes. “Whatever. I'm over it. Those guys sucked anyhow.”

I yanked off my Splatterfest coverall and tossed it into the laundry basket near the lockers.

“What about you. Did you see something you liked earlier?” she asked. “Rhymes with Devi.”

“Devi is not even a word,” I told her.

“It is now.”

I kind of wanted to talk about Levi, ask her opinion of him, but she wasn't into dissecting boys, wondering why they looked at her a certain way or what something might mean. If she liked a boy, she went for it. I suppose her blindness to the possibility of rejection made her immune to it.

“You grounded tonight?” she asked.

I nodded.

“As usual. What degree?”

“Minor. Phone privileges for the day and I have to stay in for the night.”

She never said so aloud, but I think in many ways Kya was almost jealous when I was grounded for my frequent infractions. She rarely got in trouble for anything. It was like her parents still felt too guilty over what had happened to ever punish her.

“Your parents going out tonight?” she asked.

“Dancing.”

“Your parents are so weird.” She said it with a smile though. “I'll come over later and bring a movie,” she told me. “Your mom and dad won't mind.”