Playing the Field (7 page)

I wasn’t sure this was the best compliment
you could give a girl, but I didn’t say anything. Tony was clearly
the girl expert, so who was I to question his methods of judging
them? I listened to him go on about Rachel, and he acted as though
they’d been close for years instead of just on talking terms for
the last few days.

“Oh, and I got an answer back from Serena
too.” Tony took a long sip from his juice box to draw out the
suspense. “She said that Serena said she thinks you’re kinda
cute.”

“Kinda cute? That sounds like the way you’d
describe a gerbil or something. ‘Kinda cute’ probably means she
didn’t want to hurt my feelings.”

“Give yourself a break,” Tony said. “She
likes you.”

“Oh.” I still didn’t believe him. I wondered
if she’d ever describe Brian as being “kinda cute.”

“So go find her and ask her if she’ll help
you with algebra.”

“You know, maybe I don’t need a tutor. Maybe
if I agreed to wash Mrs. Swenson’s car every day, she’d give me
extra credit.”

Tony gave me a blank stare.

“Or maybe if I shut myself in a room and
pressed the book to my forehead the knowledge would seep out into
my brain.”

“Or maybe a little man named Rumpelstiltskin
will appear and offer to do your homework in exchange for your
firstborn child.”

“I’d take it under consideration.”

“Ask Serena to help you with your algebra
today,” Tony said. “Today.”

I sighed, and it was a deep and resigned
sigh. “Ok. I’ll ask her.”

* * *

I only had two times left during the day that
I was likely to see Serena: at PE, and wandering around the hall
between classes. I tried to think of something preplanned to say to
her. Something casual yet fascinating. Something which had nothing
to do with the letters one did or didn’t use in algebra
equations.

During PE we went outside to play softball.
This was an incredible stroke of good fortune for me because the
baseball diamond was my second home. I didn’t have to try and look
cool with a bat in my hand. It happened naturally. It was the
perfect way to impress Serena. And after she was sufficiently
impressed, it would be easier to talk to her. I’d strike up a
conversation about softball, she’d tell me how wonderful I was at
it, then I’d say, “Yeah, but I’m lousy at algebra. I really wish
someone would help me out with it . . .”

Luck was with me again when Mr. Gibson, our
PE teacher, divided us into teams. Serena and I were on the same
one. I didn’t manage to stand anywhere near her when we were
batting—she hung in the back of the line by some other girls and
the team insisted I be the fourth batter so I could hit everyone
home, but I figured I’d have a chance to talk to her in the
outfield.

When it was my turn at bat, the bases were
loaded and the other team’s players all moved back. I love it when
they do that. I hit the ball high and clear over second base. It
would have been quite impressive if I had made it home, but the
runner in front of me was being cautious and stopped at third. I
couldn’t very well run over him, so I was stuck on second. Still,
it was two runs. I looked at the line of batters to see if I could
tell whether Serena was impressed or not. She was talking with Anna
and didn’t seem to be paying attention to the game at all.

Later, when I made it home, I went and stood
at the end of the batting line. Serena and Anna had mysteriously
not moved up any since we’d started the game. As I stood by them,
Serena said, “You can go in front of us, McKay. We don’t want to
bat.”

She’d spoken to me. This was my opportunity
to speak back to her, only I wasn’t sure what to say. “Why not?” I
settled on, and immediately congratulated myself for not saying
anything stupid.

“We don’t like baseball,” Anna told me.

“You’re in luck then, because this isn’t
baseball. It’s softball.” Personally, I didn’t think this was a
stupid thing to say, but Anna gave me a look which indicated she
disagreed.

“Same thing,” she said.

“Come on, this is fun. I mean, how many other
times in life do you get to hit something with a bat?” Talking to
Serena was not nearly as hard as I thought it would be. This was
actually going well. I could practically picture myself telling
Tony about it. I’d sort of toss my head around like he always did,
and then in the same casual tone he used, I’d say, “Yeah, I talked
to Serena during PE today . . .”

Serena shrugged some of her long brown hair
off of one shoulder. “I never hit anything at all. I always strike
out. I’d rather just stay at the back of the line and hope Mr.
Gibson doesn’t notice me.” She peered over at the field where our
PE teacher was pitching the balls. “Is he looking over here?”

“I don’t think so.”

“Could you sort of stand in front of us, just
in case?”

This is probably not the type of attention
girls give to Sammy Sosa or Ken Griffey Jr., but at this point I
was willing to take anything, so I stood in front of Serena and
Anna while we continued to discuss the merits of baseball.

Me: It’s the all-American pastime.

Them: But it’s so hot out in the sun.

Me: It’s the greatest game ever invented.

Them(whining): And besides, we hate chasing
after the balls.

We talked some more about athletics,
specifically how Serena and Anna didn’t like to play or watch any
sporting events. What do girls do in their spare time, anyway?

Our team got its third out, so we headed onto
the field. As we walked Serena said, “McKay, do you want to still
stand in front of us? That way if any balls come our way you’ll be
able to get them.”

“I’m on second,” I told her. “But if you
stand behind me, I’ll see what I can do.”

So Serena and Anna went and stood about forty
feet past second base and tried to continue chatting without
letting the game get in their way. And I was good to my word. The
few times a ball was hit in their direction, I backed up into the
outfield and got it. Once I even caught the ball to make our second
out. All the runners had been wavering between bases while the ball
was in the air, and then had to make quick backtracks after I made
the catch. I fired off the ball to third and nearly got the runner
out there too. It was a spectacular play. I’m sure Serena would
have been impressed enough to help me with algebra equations right
there on the spot if she’d been paying attention. Unfortunately she
was speaking with Anna and seemed only vaguely aware we were
playing softball at all.

This should have been my first clue that I
needed to be careful when I ran around retrieving balls. I should
have paid more attention to where Serena was standing. I shouldn’t
have just expected she’d move out of my way.

When the next ball flew over second base, I
saw my chance to make the third out. The ball was higher than I
liked, and I knew I’d have to sprint to catch it. I took off
running into the outfield, all of the time keeping my eye on the
ball. That’s when the crash happened. I’m not sure which part of
Serena I ran over first, only that suddenly I was on the ground in
a tangled heap with Serena at the bottom.

At first I was so surprised I didn’t say
anything at all, then I pulled myself up and said, “Are you
okay?”

She said something like, “Uheergh,” which
didn’t sound like a good answer.

Anna came and leaned over her. “Can you get
up?”

“I think so,” she said, but she only sat
up.

“I’m so sorry,” I told Serena. “I didn’t see
you.”

About a dozen people, including Mr. Gibson,
ran over to us. “Are you hurt?” he asked her.

“Just my knee.” Her face looked white, and
she winced as she tried to straighten her leg out.

Mr. Gibson knelt down in front of her and
examined her knee. “Where does it hurt?”

Serena bit her lip, and I could tell she was
trying not to cry. “Everywhere.”

“We’d better get you to the health office and
get some ice on it.” Mr. Gibson stood up and helped Serena to her
feet. “Do you think you can walk if someone helps you?”

She nodded but she didn’t look confident.

Anna took hold of Serena’s arm. “I’ll help
you.” And then half a dozen girls chimed in that they’d help too.
They moved off the field in a great mass of sympathy.

Mr. Gibson blew his whistle and said, “All
right, the rest of you get back to the game,” then followed after
the girls.

I slapped little pieces of dirt and grass off
of my pants and walked back to second base. I didn’t pay much
attention to the game after that. Even after Serena and her friends
had gone into the school, somehow I still saw her in my mind
hobbling across the grass toward the building. Everything had
happened so fast. I barely had enough time to tell her I was sorry,
and she hadn’t said anything to me at all. She hadn’t said
anything, but I could be fairly certain she wasn’t impressed with
my athletic skill.

I took a long, deep sigh. It had been eight
years since the holding hands incident with Stephanie Morris in
kindergarten. Eight years since I tried to get a girl to like me.
After today, it just might take me another eight years to make my
next try.

Chapter 6

That night after dinner while I cleared off
the table, I told Mom she needed to find me a tutor for
algebra.

“Really?” She looked surprised I had brought
it up. “I thought you’d been doing your homework every day.”

“I do it, but I get it all wrong. I’m too far
behind to understand it on my own.”

Mom rinsed off a plate, then put it into a
slot in the dishwasher. “I’ll call the school and see if they can
recommend someone.” She smiled a bit. “And because I can see you
really are trying to do better, maybe your father and I will pay
for most of the cost.”

I put a handful of plates into the sink.
“Thanks.” It was the best news I’d had all day.

My jobs were finished, but I stayed in the
kitchen watching mom fill the soap dispenser. Mom was so mommish.
It was hard to believe she’d ever been a teenager.

“Mom, did you ever, you know, like anybody
when you were my age?”

She shrugged. “I suppose I was interested in
a couple of guys.”

“Would you still have been interested in them
if they’d crashed into you during PE and hurt your knee?”

Mom shut the dishwasher and looked over at
me. “Did you run into someone in PE?”

I nodded.

“Was she okay?”

“I don’t know. She went to the health
office.” I had the feeling she wouldn’t think I was kinda cute
anymore.

Mom said, “Oh,” in a sad sort of way and
then, “Did you tell her you were sorry?”

I nodded again.

“Maybe you could send her a card or
something.”

Kirk walked over to where I stood. I hadn’t
even known he was around or I wouldn’t have told Mom about Serena
at all. That’s the beauty of only being five years old. You’re so
short people overlook you, and you get to hear their conversations.
With a serious expression on his face he asked, “Did you kill
someone?”

“No,” I told him. “Not this time.”

He seemed a little disappointed. “Was there
lots of blood?”

“Nope.”

“Well, I’d send her flowers anyway.” Kirk
then broke out into a commercial jingle tune. “Say it with flowers
and lighter her day. She’ll know you lumpy in every way.”

It’s supposed to be: Say it with flowers and
light up her day. She’ll know you love her in every way. I didn’t
correct him.

Mom picked up the dishrag and wiped off the
edges of the sink. “I think McKay is a little young to be sending
girls flowers.”

“The girl on the TV liked it,” Kirk said.
“She wrapped her arms around the guy’s neck like she was going to
squeeze his head right off.”

“You watch too much TV,” Mom said.

“I bet nobody could squeeze McKay’s head
off.” Kirk tilted his face sideways and gave me a studious look as
though he was trying to determine how sturdy my head was.

I left to go do my homework before Kirk could
start requesting neck-squeezing demonstrations.

I tried to keep my mind on the Revolutionary
War, but my mind kept drifting back to Serena and flowers.

I’d never been one to take advice from my
little brother, but it wasn’t a bad idea. Girls liked flowers.
Maybe I should give her some. Or maybe not. Maybe it would be a
geeky thing to do.

The next day Serena wasn’t at school and
Rachel told Tony, who told me, that Serena had sprained her knee.
She would have stay off it for at least a week, and then she would
be on crutches for a while after that. This made me feel even
worse. Serena was crippled, and it was my fault. I had to do
something for her, and Kirk’s suggestion seemed like the best idea.
The only problem was there wasn’t a florist store within bike
riding distance.

I suppose I could have asked my mother to
drive me somewhere, but she’d already said I was too young to send
a girl flowers. I was afraid if I brought the subject up again,
she’d get all weird about it. She’d ask me a thousand questions
about Serena and give me lectures about how I shouldn’t get
seriously involved with girls and maybe insist on meeting Serena’s
parents or something. I didn’t want that. Some things were just
better for a guy to do on his own. I’d have to find the flowers
myself.

After I got home from school, I surveyed our
backyard. We had plenty of blooming bushes and plants growing
there, although they weren’t really the kind of flowers you made
into a bouquet.

But what other choice did I have? I could
have called Tony, but he had the same type of plants in his yard.
We all did. Since we lived in a desert climate, there weren’t many
types of plants which could survive the summer when the temperature
stayed above 110 for months on end.