yourself it does.”
“You are so wise, Mila.” Roxanne shook her head and sighed. “But you get too deep for me sometimes. I only want to know what boy to like. Shane has these dreamy eyes. But he is always calling me a dumb blond. Jeff only ever says nice things. But he has big ears, and I think his mom picks out his clothes for him.”
“Roxanne, always choose nice. Believe me. Besides, be happy you even have a choice. Not everyone does. In fact, some people say no one does. I read somewhere that freedom is a paradox.”
Roxanne blinked. “A para-huh?”
“A paradox. Something true that seems to contradict itself. Every time you use your freedom, you become less free. Every time you make a choice, other choices go away. If you choose Shane, then you lose Jeff. Every time you make a decision, you close other doors.”
“Really?” Roxanne crinkled her forehead. “What kinds of doors?”
“Not real doors, Roxy. But take this game. Everyone calls this play. You would think play would be something you did because you wanted to do it. But here we are, forced to stand here in this dumb field. There are even rules for how we should feel. We are supposed to pretend we care who wins. And all the time, the teacher is right there, overseeing everything. Do you see any freedom here, any at all?”
Roxanne scanned the field, then turned to Mila. “I think that fly on your nose might be free.”
Mila opened her eyes wide and slapped at her nose. “What fly?”
“Psyche,” Roxanne laughed.
“Well,” Mila blinked at Roxanne a couple of times, “believe me, if that fly was real, it would be so much freer than we are.” She glared at Matt. “Our only shred of freedom, our one human dignity, is to ignore the ball when it flies past us, and even that is under siege.”
Roxanne chewed the end of a dandelion stem. “Sometimes I wish I was less free. No more worries. Someone could tell me, pick Jeff or pick Shane. And I would, no regrets.”
“So true,” Mila said. “Freedom is costly. When you get older, it only gets worse. You have more power, so if you make bad decisions, they can ruin your whole life. You have to choose who to marry and where to live and what job to take. Every time you make a choice, all your other choices go away.”
“Sounds awful,” Roxanne said. “Why would anyone want freedom? Hey, I know. From now on, maybe you can make all my decisions for me. I trust you, Miles. You have a good brain. Just tell me which boy to pick and I will.”
“Infield!” Matthew screamed and gestured to the kids crossing from one end of the field to the other. He stood in front of them. “Are you bimbos going to move, or are you joining the other team? If you are, do it now.”
Mila sighed. “I guess we have to continue this talk over there. The teacher is glaring at us. I wonder if life ever gets any better, or if there will always be someone to boss us around and tell us where to go.”
Roxanne and Mila strolled to the opposite end of the field and leaned against the inner curve of a metal fence.
“So tell me,” Roxanne said. “Which one? Pretend-like. You are my all-knowing master and I am your humble slave. Who do you pick for me, my master? Shane or Jeff?”
“Roxy…”
“Alphabetical order!” The teacher said. “Everyone line up.” The teacher paced up and down the line. “If your name starts with “A,” go to the front of the line. Roxanne, move it! Mila, to the back.”
Roxanne frowned at Mila. “I hate my last name being Atkins. I would much rather be a Zimmerman. Or at least a Wells like you.”
“I have to say, I like being a Wells. I almost never have to kick the ball.”
“Oh, Mila, I have to go, but I want to talk some more. I hate separation. Almost as much as choosing boys. Things like this are what make life so very hard.”
“There is a way,” Mila said, “to get back.” She gave Roxanne a meaningful look.
Roxanne gave Mila a look of confusion before she moved to the fourth place in line.
Meanwhile, Mila approached the boy Mark, who had used second base for a hat. He was standing at the third place in line. Mila whispered something in his ear. A shrewd expression appeared on his face. Then he burst out laughing. “Ha,” he said. “What is in it for me?” He gave her a challenging expression.
“Mila, move it!” the teacher said. “Go to the back of the line now. Do you want detention?”
Ignoring her, Mila replied to the boy. “My undying gratitude?”
He opened his palm. Mila sighed, drew something shiny, a coin from her pocket, and put it on his palm. He looked down at it with contempt. Mila drew out a couple of dollar bills. “I only have 3 dollars, lunch money. Two up front, the rest later.”
The teacher grabbed Mila by the upper arm and drew her roughly away to the back of the line. Mila frowned and watched the first kid approach home base.
The first play was a home run. But the next player in line was Margo. Margo was overweight and not a good runner, and got tagged quickly.
Mark stepped up to the base. He loosened his shoulders and stretched his legs like a track runner. Finally he stood absolutely still, as if meditating. But when the ball came rolling toward him, he barely nudged the ball, and the toe of his tennis shoe sent the ball veering to the right.
Mark stared at the ball for a long moment, then took mincing, almost prim, steps toward first. He was tagged halfway to the base amid a volley of boos. Returning, he grinned proudly, bowed, and wave. A chorus of boos and taunts followed.
Roxanne looked at Mila and Mila met her eyes. Roxanne lowered her head and stepped up to kick, and when the server rolled the ball to her, she pulled her leg back far, swung it forward, and then seemed inexplicably to lose her balance. “Whoops,” she said. She gave the ball a half-hearted tap with the toe of her sandal. She half walked, half ran toward first base. “What are you doing?” Matthew screamed. “Run, you idiot! Run!”
Roxanne was tagged midway to first base. The kids on her team booed, but laughter rang out from the other team. As Roxanne returned, she buried her face in her hands.
“She did it on purpose,” Matt screamed at the teacher. “She just did it so she could go back out there and talk to Mila and pick dandelions. Do something!”
The teacher looked at Matt, then at Roxanne. “Be a good sport, Matt,” the teacher said, and blew a whistle. “Everyone change places.”
Back in the outfield, Mila looked at Roxanne with new respect. “Well played, Roxy, my friend. I know how hard that must have been. You could be good at this game if you wanted to be. Sorry if put you in a bad position. You could have said no.”
“Never,” Roxanne wiped her eyes with the sleeve of her dress. “I like talking to you. Besides, I want your answer. I need your answer. My entire future happiness depends on it.”
“No, forget about boys, just for one second. Do you know what we just did? Do you see the beauty?” Mila shook her head. “I gave up my lunch money, and you made the entire classroom hate you just to come back here. This is a moral victory, Roxy. We have no choice but to stand here and pretend to play ball, but we decided how we were going to do it, here, right here, in the dandelion patch, where we belong.” Mila looked around. “And such a beautiful day for it too.” Mila gazed upward. Roxanne did too.
“Sometimes,” Mila said, “when I was little and used to get lonely, I would go outside and lie down on the grass and stare at the sky. I would imagine I could fall into it, past all the blue and on into space, on and on. And maybe I would fall on a planet where everyone thinks like I do, and where everyone would understand me. Do you ever do that, Roxy? Ever get the feeling you could just fall into all that blue and find nice aliens who like you?”
“Aliens scare me. I try not to think about them. But it is so very nice out here.” Roxanne inhaled. “I love spring.”
“Look,” Mila pointed at the sky. “The sun has just enough cloud over it so you can stare at it and not hurt your eyes.” The ball bounced over to Mila. She bent down and pick
ed it up. “The things I love most in the whole universe are spheres, I think, the sun, the moon. Donut holes.” Mila examined the ball. “Wish I could feel the same way about kickballs.”
Matt ran up to Mila, his face red, and snatched the ball from her. “Are you an idiot? We could have had an out! When I told you to get the ball, I meant for you to use it, throw it to someone. Tag someone.”
“Funny,” Mila said to Roxanne. “I can see his mouth moving, but I can barely hear him. Can you?”
“Not at all,” Roxanne said.
Matt scowled at Mila, shook his head vigorously, and then shuffled off.
“Okay, Mila, enough is enough. Tell me. Tell me who to choose, and tell me now. I need to know, or I will die here, and this dandelion patch will be my grave.”
“I already told you. Choose personality over appearance. From what you have told me, that means Jeff.”
Roxanne was silent for a long moment. “I get it,” she said softly. “Thanks.” Her face brightened. “Oh Mila, thank you so much. You are the best friend ever.” She gave Mila a hug and planted a kiss on her cheek. “You helped me. I love you. You helped me decide. I love you, I love you, I love you!”
Drawing back in surprise, Mila smiled. “May you and Jeff be very happy together. Am I invited to the wedding?”
“Oh no.” Roxanne pulled away in surprise. “No, no, no. Not Jeff.” She smiled dreamily. “Shane.”
“Huh?”
“It was amazing. As soon as you said
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