Page 8 of Catch and Cradle

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Page 8 of Catch and Cradle

Balance is precarious up here. Paulina takes a shaky step that radiates up through my body and makes me sway from side to side, but I grab the shelves for support. One we’ve righted ourselves, I reach for Jim and start sliding him off the shelf.

“Look out below!”

I yank him out far enough to tip him over and pitch him down to the floor. He really is ridiculously large. Iz catches him by the tail, and one of his claws bonks Jane on the head. She backs out of the closet so she and Iz can start carrying him into the hall.

“Uh, so how do I get down?” I ask Paulina.

“Hmm. I’m not really sure.”

The two of us stand there strategizing until Iz comes back in the closet.

“You guys coming?”

“I think we might be trapped in this position forever.”

“Hmm.” Iz crosses their arms and joins us in strategizing. We settle on a plan that involves Paulina lowering into a squat and me using the shelves and one of Iz’s hands to launch myself off her.

We’ve commenced phase one when the sound of someone clearing their throat by the closet door catches my attention.

“Don’t worry, Jane. We’re—”

The words die in my throat. My whole body freezes as the fight or flight chemicals start kicking in right along with the shock.

Becca Moore is standing in the doorway with her arms crossed, and she does not look impressed.

Iz and Paulina haven’t noticed her yet, and I only realize they’re still trying to get me down when Iz shouts, “One, two, three, go!”

“Wait, what am I—Ow! Oh, fuck.”

I end up banging my forehead on a shelf, kicking Paulina in the boob, falling backwards onto Iz, and taking all three of us to the ground.

When I look up from all the groaning and limb-rubbing, Becca is still standing there in the exact same position, only now she’s pressing her lips together like she’s holding back a laugh.

I haven’t seen her since April. She looks gorgeous, even under the building’s awful fluorescent lights. Her hair is down and fanned out over her shoulders, the thick, wavy red strands making her look like she could be a siren in an Irish Spring commercial. She has a strong nose and jaw that give her a tough and commanding expression, but her perfect almond eyes and all those devastatingly adorable freckles soften them out.

I do my best to keep from doing a totally obvious full body scan, but I can’t help noticing her black leggings and dark green plaid button-down. It has to be made by a company with a name like ‘Lesbians R Us’ or ‘Wear These Clothes to Bang All the Women Ever.’

“Hey, guys,” she says in a fake casual tone. The rasp in her voice makes me want to close my eyes in rapture and appreciate the sound like it’s a holy choir. “How’s it going?”

My throat has gone completely dry and I’m not sure my knees are working, but Iz staggers to their feet and waves at Becca.

“Oh, hey Becca. Fancy meeting you here.” They copy Becca’s casual tone. “What are you doing here so late at night?”

Becca uncrosses her arms and raises a set of keys in the air, making them jingle. “I’m locking up the lacrosse closet after getting things ready for practice tomorrow. I thought maybe I could leave it unattended for two minutes.”

“Ah. Well. Good thing it was us and not, like, a robber.” Iz forces a chuckle.

I’m still sitting on the floor glancing between the two of them like an idiot, but Paulina has recovered enough to get to her feet too.

“You guys do know we have our first practice tomorrow at eight, right?” Becca asks.

Iz salutes her. “Aye, aye, Captain. That’s, uh, why we’re here. We thought it would boost morale to show up on the field with Jim tomorrow. Start training camp off right, you know?”

Becca narrows her eyes and takes a step into the closet. My heart rate climbs another notch.

“You guys are drunk, aren’t you?”

To say this isn’t how I wanted my first Becca encounter of the year to go is the understatement of the century. I spent a lot of time this summer visualizing how I wanted to start this semester off, thinking about who I wanted to be and how I wanted to feel. Becca usually factored in there, typically in the form of me killing it as a model lacrosse player and her giving me a quiet, almost shy compliment after practice that would lead to the two of us getting dinner and walking around the beautiful, sunset-streaked streets of Halifax like mature, responsible adults.




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