Xavier Will Be Here Any Minute I made sure his first meeting with Mom would be when Patrick was busy adjusting bands and wires on kids' crooked teeth.

Mom wasn't especially interested in my changing agents. Maxine has been good to us, and good for you....

"Mostly true. Except she just lost a huge contract because of personal problems.

I need someone who will always be there.

Just listen to what he has to say, okay?"

She agreed, and when the bell rings now, I let her answer the door. First impressions and all. She hides her stutter fairly well. Uh... oh... please, come in.

In Mom's world, Xavier Winslow is soap-opera fine. And all charm.

Not To Mention A Natural Flirt We sit around the kitchen table, and though I am the topic of conversation, Xavier is all about Mom. I can see where your daughter gets her beauty.

Did you ever model? No? What a shame.

You could have gone straight to the top.

Mom blushes and smiles and flirts right back. This is a mother I've never seen before, and it's all because this great-looking man is playing her so well.

It takes twenty minutes at least, but by the time Xavier is finished, Mom is beeswax, melting into his smile, and I have a new agent.

When I walk him to the door, he winks.

I'll call you next week. He slips a small bottle into my hand. The label says Meridia.

Sean

My Hand Has long been my dance partner. I learned the routine at eleven.

Early to the game, I guess.

Fifth grade is much too young to understand the nature of uninvited l.u.s.t.

It didn't even take visual stimulation, just the raw sensation of skin against cotton, and the memory is just as vivid as the real thing.

Okay, maybe not quite.

But there was something about the innocence- confusing as it was-that made those first clumsy explorations border on magical.

Used To Be I'd wake up every morning and have to spend several minutes doing the hand jive.

It's a guy thing, I know. But not really sure if it's because of something that went on in a dream, or just because of the Boy rubbing nice against those warm sheets.

Either way, it was a great way to start the day. But now I wake up limp as a worn sock. I've been tempted to test the v.i.a.g.r.a solo, just to see if things will still work.

But it seems like a waste of a roaring b.o.n.e.r if those pills do what they promise.

So I've been saving them up for a little (lot!) Cara action.

I'm Tired Of Saving Up I really want to see her, want to know what it's like to make love to a girl who I really love.

But lately I'm not sure what's going on with her. For the past couple of weeks, she's always had an excuse not to see me.

Homework. Prom committee meetings. Spring musical rehearsals. Granted, she has a lead, but still. Why should other stuff come before me? Yes, baseball practice has come first for me lately, but it's all for her in the long run. Why can't she understand that?

She did promise to come watch me play today, so maybe everything's okay.

Hope so. I've got plans for later.

Great Day For Baseball Well, it is a little cool, but h.e.l.l, it's barely March. At least the sun is out, and we're playing at home, thanks to outstanding snow removal efforts on the part of our grounds crew. Amazing, what industrial strength tarps and s...o...b..owers can accomplish. Not to mention shovels and brooms. I am stoked. Ready to kick a little Reno High a.s.s.

On the field for warm-ups, I notice a couple of things.

One: serious-looking guys in the stands with clipboards and radar guns. Scouts.

Can't know where from, of course. But they're there.

And two: Cara made it.

She's sitting with some girl I've never seen before.

Dark spiky hair. Cute, in a kind of Goth way. Cara points at me, and the strange girl smiles. Then they both wave. Nice. I wave back, still wondering who's sitting beside my girl, when Coach reminds me, O'Connell!

We've got a game to play here. Get your mind off the bleachers or go hit the showers. Some of the guys snicker, but mostly because they're jealous.

I glance at the scouts, one of whom seems to be looking my way. Get ready, dude.

First Inning Reno High goes down, one-two-three, thanks to outstanding pitching by Gary Bell. The scouts are doing some serious scribbling in their notebooks.

Our first two bats retire quickly too, but the third manages to slip one between the short and second baseman.

Cleanup. That's me. On the way to the plate, I peer up into the stands, hoping Cara will smile for me. But my good luck charm looks distracted.

Maybe even worried. Hmm.

Batter up! warns the ump.

Wonder what Cara...

Steeerike! G.o.dd.a.m.n it.

I try really hard to focus.

Catch a piece of a curve- ball. Not a big enough piece. It's a short fly, but thank G.o.d I run. The first baseman misjudges, misses the catch, and I arrive safely on base on an error. Not exactly going to impress the scouts like that, but better than an easy out.

Up comes Bobby, who's as average at the bat as he is playing shortstop. Surprise!

He smacks the first pitch deep into center field. Triple, and I score the second run of the game for the Grizzlies.

Rocky start. But I'll get my bat going yet. Won't I?

Bottom Of The Eighth Down two runs, I've yet to get my bat going. Fielding- wise, I've made a couple of great plays. Just not when we needed them.

Distracted, that's what I've been, and I can't quite manage to stay focused on the game.

Every time I look at Cara, she's talking to that girl, all attention aimed toward her.

And the way she looks at Cara... d.a.m.n, what am I thinking? Right now, bases loaded, one out, I really need to get my head back into the game. So why do I turn my eyes toward the bleachers? Only this time, for whatever reason, Cara smiles.

At me. Bright and sweet and real. And that's all the encouragement I need to grab my bat, step up to the plate, throw the pitcher a "give it your best shot" look.

It's the first time today he's seen me swell with determination.

His shoulders twitch. First pitch hits the dirt in front of the catcher. My turn to grin, and he doesn't like that at all. Second pitch, a big, lazy curve that I let go by. I want a fastball. Come on. Unbelievably, that's what he sends. Nothing for it but to swing for the bleachers.

Clank! It's gone. Over the fence. Grand slam.

The Reno pitcher deflates as the Grizzlies crowd screams.

I start my trot, eyes scanning the seats. Yep. The scouts are taking notes. And Cara is on her feet, clapping.

Not sure which one means the most to me right now.

I'll call it a tie. I round the bases, cross home plate, suck up the back slapping and high fives. I barely notice Bobby make our third out. Barely notice the top-of-the-ninth-inning play resulting in our win.

What I do notice is how the scouts pack up and leave, right after Cara exits with the spiky-haired girl.

Being The Hero Ain't all bad, and while part of me wants to go straight after Cara, most of me likes soaking up the limelight rays.

We trade handshakes, head for the showers, compliments flying left and right. Cara isn't handing them out, but other girls are, along with teammates and even some guys from the other team.

I get cleaned up, and when I finally emerge from the locker room, Uncle Jeff is waiting for me.

Great hit, son. Guess you saw the scouts. One of 'em is an old friend of mine. He's at Louisville, and I can tell you they're very interested. I know you've got your heart set on Stanford, but I told him you'd be happy to talk. That's right, isn't it?

I mean, just in case things don't work out.... He looks at me cautiously. Does he expect me to get all p.i.s.sed? "Sure, Jeff.

We can always talk." It won't make any difference. Stanford will want me too, and it's not a bad thing to have interest from more than one school. Uncle Jeff looks relieved. Guess maybe I've been a little short-tempered lately.

"Anything else? I want to call Cara." Jeff shakes his head, says he'll see me at home. When I try Cara's cell, she picks up right away. "Can we get together later?"

For some reason, I'm a little surprised when she says okay.

Andre

For Some Reason More and more, day by day, my life feels like an ultimate rush thrill ride. One minute I'm in the air, soaring to unimaginable heights.

Close my eyes, I plunge toward the earth, breath caught within the fear, then inches from the crash, I find my wings again.

And it's all because of her. She is madness, sanity. She is h.e.l.l, and paradise.

I Can't Believe The things I'll do for Jenna. I mean, thrill rides are only the start.

Today I am going to watch a cheerleading compet.i.tion that her sister is in. No way to spend a Sat.u.r.day, but Jenna is very good at getting what she wants.

Usually when I pick her up, she's outside, waiting. Not this time.

I sit at the curb for a few minutes, finally dial her cell phone, which goes straight to voice mail. Guess that leaves going up to the door, and as I make the long walk, it comes to me that I might actually meet her family.

Part of it, anyway. I ring the doorbell. Wait.

Finally I hear footsteps. A fortyish woman opens the door. She is taller than Jenna, more slender. But they share the same platinum beauty. "Mrs...." No, Mathieson isn't right.

That would be Jenna's dad's last name.

I realize I don't know her last name. "Uh, I'm Andre. Jenna's..."

G.o.d, does she even know we're going out?

Her expression says maybe not. "Uh, is Jenna here?" I am a total clod.

Of course she's here. If not, I should run.

Despite her obvious shock, she says, Jenna will be ready in a minute. Come on in. She moves away from the door, and I feel like I really need to apologize.

"I'm sorry I don't know your name. Jenna calls you 'Mom and Patrick.' I mean, you and your husband..." I need to shut up now. Thank G.o.d she's smiling.

Before She Can Enlighten Me Jenna stomps into the hallway, eyes sharp with anger.

I hate him. He can't be serious, right?