Playing the Field

by Janette Rallison

  “I always study anyway,” she said like it was a stupid question.

  “No, I mean, do you want to study with me?”

  “Ohhh,” she said.

  Was that an unhappy oh? Was that an I’d-rather-not-but-I’m-not-sure-how-to-say-no oh?

  “When were you thinking?” she asked.

  “I don’t have ball practice on Wednesday. We could go to my house after school.”

  Serena considered this for a moment. “I’m not sure if I can. I think Rachel said she wanted to go to the mall on Wednesday.”

  “Oh. Okay.” My neck felt hot, and suddenly I found that I had to gulp, but I tried to act like it didn’t matter. “Maybe some other time.”

  “Let me talk to Rachel about it,” Serena said, “and then I’ll let you know for sure.”

  Great. Another chance to be formally rejected. “Okay,” I said. I nodded out a good-bye then walked to Tony’s locker. He was just putting away his science stuff and getting his English books out.

  “Here.” I handed him the note and walked off. It bothered me, it really did, that even in the middle of all his girl problems, Tony’s love life was still better than mine.

  By the time I got to algebra I’d delivered two more notes. It didn’t even faze me when the guy beside me handed me a folded piece of paper and whispered, “It’s from Serena.”

  Without thinking about it, I passed the note on to Tony. He opened it, gave me a funny look, then leaned over and handed it back to me.

  “I think it’s for you,” he said. “Either that or Serena is the latest victim of the Manetti charm.”

  Not likely. I glanced over at Serena to see if she’d seen me hand the paper to Tony. She was shaking her head.

  I opened it and read, “Rachel wants to go to the mall in the evening so after school will be fine to study.”

  I turned and mouthed the word okay to Serena, then I took the paper and put it in my math folder. A few other miscellaneous notes were crammed inside, and I made a mental note to take the notes out of my folder and put them in my dresser when I got home. Now that I was getting notes from girls, I didn’t want any of them to fall out, or fall into the wrong hands.

  * * *

  During dinner that night, I announced my study arrangements. “It’s not a date,” I told my mother pointedly. “If we were planning to do anything fun, you could veto it, but we’re just studying algebra.”

  Mom took a drink from her glass. “Ah, this subject again.” She looked over at my father. “It’s your turn to tell him the reason why he can’t date. He obviously doesn’t listen to me.”

  Dad cut through his piece of chicken and took a bite. When he’d finished chewing, he said, “You can’t date because I said so, and I don’t need a reason because I’m your father.”

  Mom cut a piece of her own chicken. “Thanks. I’m sure that cleared it up for him.”

  “She’s a really nice girl,” I said. “And she’s a straight-A student. That means she’s a good influence on me.”

  “All good qualities in a friend,” Mom said.

  “You’ll probably think she’s wonderful once she comes over and you get to know her. I mean, I bet she’ll remind you of your old friends, or your sisters, or someone you liked a whole lot.”

  Mom took another drink.

  “Did I mention she was a straight-A student?”

  Mom glanced over at Dad with an exasperated look, but he quickly took another bite of his chicken so he didn’t have to say anything.

  Mom tapped a finger against the table for a moment, then looked over at me with that parent-lecturing look. “You want to be Serena’s friend for the long run, right?”

  “Sure.”

  “Then don’t date her now. At your age that’s the fastest way to ruin a friendship.”

  “Why?”

  “It just is. You’ll understand when you get older.”

  I hated it when my parents said that. I was convinced it was something old people said when they couldn’t think of any reasons to defend their point view. They figured we’d forget about all these explanations as time went by. I decided to start making a list.

  The telephone rang, and Dad went into the kitchen to answer it. I ate my chicken silently and let Kirk jabber on about kindergarten. It was pointless to push the topic any farther with Mom. I was going to have to wait until Serena came over to my house and mom got to see what an intelligent, mature, and responsible person she was.

  Dad came back to the table, smiling and shaking his head. “Well McKay, I have to admit it. You were right. Mr. Manetti just called and volunteered to buy a reverse osmosis from me.”

  I smiled back at him. “See. I told you he would. When do you get the two hundred dollars?”

  “Well, I didn’t actually sell him a Hendricks RO.”

  “That’s true. So when do I get the two hundred dollars?”

  Dad laughed. “No, I mean I told him to go down to Home Depot and pick up one there. They’re not quite as fancy as the Hendricks systems, but they do the job. No sense in paying twice the money for one.”

  I stared at him as though he hadn’t said this, as though in a moment he’d tell me he was joking. “You told him what?”

  “He was a little worried he wouldn’t be able to install it himself, so I told him I’d come over and put it in for him.”

  “You told him what?”

  “What are you surprised about, McKay? You’re the one who told him he should get an RO in the first place.”

  “But not a Home Depot RO,” I said. “He was supposed to buy a Hendricks RO so you could get the bonus.”

  Dad cocked his head. “You wouldn’t want your coach to pay extra for something just so I can make a few bucks, would you?”

  Yes, I would. Only I didn’t say it. Saying it out loud would make me sound as selfish as I suddenly felt. The truth was the Manettis had plenty of money, and we didn’t. Why shouldn’t they buy a Hendricks RO?

  I looked over at Mom to see what her reaction to this. Mom, who always complained there wasn’t enough to account for in the bank account, didn’t seem disturbed that Dad had just thrown away two hundred dollars. She calmly took another bite of her salad.

  Dad picked up his fork and cut into his chicken. “You don’t make money off your friends. Friends help one another out.”

  “I know,” I said. “And Coach Manetti was helping us out.”

  “We don’t need that kind of help,” Dad said.

  I looked over at Mom. She nodded in agreement. Two hundred dollars would have bought a lot of paint and curtain material for the office, but she was still nodding.

  All right. My parents didn’t want to feel like a charity case. I could understand that. But still, all was not lost. “I guess I can see why you don’t want to sell an RO to Coach Manetti, but that doesn’t mean you can’t sell ROs to anyone else, does it?”

  “Nobody else has called for one.”

  I kept my voice even to make Dad realize I was serious. “It wouldn’t be that hard for you to sell a few ROs every once in a while, would it?”

  Dad put his fork down. “Why is it you suddenly want me to sell ROs?”

  “So you can get the bonuses.”

  “And why do you think I need those?”

  “So you and Mom will stop worrying about money all of the time.”

  Dad looked over at Mom. She blushed a little. “We don’t worry about money all of the time.”

  Now Dad and I both looked over at her. She sat up a little straighter in her chair. “What?” she said.

  Neither Dad nor I answered.

  She put down her fork. “All right, I admit I talk about wanting more money sometimes, but everyone does that. It doesn’t mean I think we’re destitute.”

  “Well, apparently our son thinks it,” Dad said. His brows furrowed together for a moment as though something had just occurred to him. “McKay, would these worries of yours have anything to do with the fact that Grandma just sent us a check for
two hundred dollars in an early birthday card?”

  “Uh, well, maybe. I did try to sell her a Reverse Osmosis a while back.”

  Dad put his face in his hands, then looked over at my mother. “I told you we should have called and insisted she tell us what that was all about.” He shook his head. “You get to call and tell her we’re not homeless yet.”

  “Don’t blame me for this,” she told him. “I’m not the only one who complains about money. You’re the one who makes an issue every time I buy anything.”

  “You’re doing it again,” I said. “You’re fighting about money.”

  Dad ran his fingers over his head and then sighed. He glanced over at Mom, then back at me. “Maybe we do argue about money sometimes, and maybe we wish we had more. But nobody has enough money for all of their wants. We have enough for our needs, and that’s what’s important.”

  I pushed a piece of chicken around on my plate. “It wouldn’t hurt to have a little more every once in a while, would it? Tony’s dad could teach you how to sell stuff. He’s really good at it.” And then to prove the point, I added, “He drives a BMW.”

  Dad shook his head. “I’m not a salesman. I could never do it. I hate to feel like I’m pushing something on someone that they don’t really want. That’s just not me.”

  “And I’m glad it’s not you.” Mom smiled over at him. “You’re the type of person who is always genuine, and I love you for it.” Now she smirked at him. “Even if you don’t drive a BMW.”

  Dad grunted. “It would be a little awkward to lug all my tools around in a luxury car.”

  And then they both laughed. It was nice to see them that way, and I told myself to remember that for every time they fought about money, there were also these times they joked about it. It made me feel better, even though I knew we would never have a BMW or bigger house.

  Chapter 11

  That night, while Tony and I warmed up on the outfield before the game, I noticed Anna sit down on the front row of the bleachers. “Hey, Tony,” I said, “part of your fan club is here.”

  He looked over to where she sat and waved. She smiled and waved back.

  When we finished with warm-ups, we still had a few minutes before the game began, so we walked over to say hi.

  “Where are Serena and Rachel?” I asked.

  Anna shrugged. “I don’t know, at home, I guess.” Which meant she had come on her own, and they didn’t know she was here.

  I didn’t say anything else. I just stood by stiffly and listened while Anna and Tony smiled and talked to each other about the game. Anna giggled a lot. She also wished Tony good luck three times.

  I thought back to my conversation with Serena, when I couldn’t come up with proof that Anna was chasing Tony. This was proof, and yet I still couldn’t make my point. To tell Serena about Anna’s visit seemed too much like tattling.

  After a few more minutes of watching Tony be funny, honest, attractive, understanding, and loyal—well, maybe not loyal—I decided Anna and Tony were too wrapped up talking to each other to care whether I was standing there or not. I saw my family sitting a little way off in the bleachers, so I went over to talk to them. Dad gave me his usual pep talk: “You can win this game, son. Just play hard and concentrate.”

  “Remember,” Mom told me, “it doesn’t matter if you win or not so long as you do your best.”

  Kirk said, “When those guys run past you,”—he made jogging arm motions to make sure I understood—“trip them.”

  “That wouldn’t be fair,” Mom told him.

  “Then how about you push them?” Kirk said.

  Finally, Coach Manetti told the team to take our seats on the bench, and I forget all about who was or wasn’t in the crowd. That is, until we came to bat in the top of the second inning. Then I glanced up at the bleachers and noticed not only Anna sitting there, but also Rachel and Serena. And none of them looked very happy. Rachel’s arms were crossed, and she was tapping her foot quickly against the bleacher. Anna sat a little apart from the other two and stared blankly at the field. Serena just looked uncomfortable, and no one was speaking to anyone else.

  “Tony,” I said. “Did you notice the rest of your fan club showed up?”

  “Yeah,” he said, but he didn’t sound enthusiastic about the fact. A couple of minutes later he went up to bat and missed two easy pitches. I held my breath while the pitcher threw the third pitch. The ball flew toward the plate, a little high, but still within the strike zone. Tony swung and missed again. He tossed his head back, groaned, and then dropped the bat less gently than he should have. He walked slowly back to the rest of the team and took his place at the end of the bench. When he sat down, he leaned over and covered his face with his hands.

  “Don’t worry,” I called over to him. “In a minute I’m going to hit everyone home.”

  Tony’s dad had been standing away from the bench, but now he walked over and stood in front of Tony. “What happened out there?”

  Tony shook his head. “I don’t know.”

  But I knew. Tony was too busy concentrating on the competition going on in the bleachers to think about the competition on the field.

  “We can’t afford to give outs away,” Coach said. Then he looked at me. “Come on, McKay, you’re up after Johnson.”

  I walked out to the field, picked up my bat, and swung it in practice a few times. This hit had to be great. This hit would be for Tony, so his dad would stop thinking about his strikeout.

  Johnson hit a blooper to left field, then jogged to first base. With his face still red from the run, he took a one-step lead off the base and stood paused, watching me.

  I stepped up to the plate and focused on the pitcher. He pulled back and threw. I swung and hit. I could tell from the sound of the ball hitting the wood, from the sting of the ball against my bat, that the hit was a good one. The ball soared past the outfielders and bounced down in far left field. I sprinted around the bases, with each breath forcing myself to go faster. It looked like it was going to be close when I came around third base. One of infielders had the ball and was throwing it in. Still, I pushed on and with one last surge of energy, slid into home plate. I felt a glove come down on my side, but only after I’d grabbed onto the plate. I was safe, and a moment later the umpire gave the safe sign.

  I stood up, brushed myself off, then walked, breathless, back to the bench. The team all hollered and gave me high fives. Tony gave me two.

  The rest of the game went by quickly. When it was over, we’d won by five runs. It was a great feeling to walk off the field.

  All three girls came over to congratulate us.

  “Great game,” Serena told me.

  “I’m glad I came to see it,” Rachel said, and she glared at Tony.

  “Uh, thanks,” Tony said. He looked from Rachel to Anna and back.

  Anna didn’t say anything, but she blushed.

  “Well, we’ve got to leave now,” Serena said, and before anyone else could say anything, she and Rachel walked off.

  “I’d better go too,” Anna said. She went in a different direction.

  Tony watched her for a moment. “Man, that was uncomfortable. I guess I should have checked to see whether Rachel was coming before I invited Anna to watch the game.”

  “You invited her?” I grabbed Tony’s baseball cap off his head and leaned toward him as if I was examining him. “Stand still, I’m checking to see if you have any brain cells left.”

  Tony grabbed the hat back from me and put it on his head. “I invited her because she likes baseball.”

  “Oh sure, just like Jenna does.”

  “Actually,” Tony said, “it’s over between Jenna and Adam.”

  “Did he find her out?”

  “No, she finally came to the conclusion he could never love her as much as he loves Babe Ruth. She decided she no longer wanted to take the backseat to a dead baseball player.”

  My family found me then, and I got congratulated some more. Dad said, �
�I knew you could pull it off.” Mom said, “You played great.” Kirk said, “We won! We won! We won!”

  “That’s right,” I told him, “And I didn’t have to trip anyone.”

  “Yeah,” he said, “but you might want to try that next time.”

  * * *

  The next day Serena materialized at my locker as I was getting ready for first period. I said, “Hi, Serena,” and held my locker door as close to being shut as I could manage without smashing parts of my body inside. Every time Serena came by my locker, I vowed I’d straighten it so I wouldn’t have to be embarrassed about it next time, but I always forgot.

  “Hi, McKay.” She leaned against the next locker without showing the slightest interest in the disorderly state of mine. She also didn’t seem to notice the odd way I took my books out of the small slit of an opening I’d created by shutting my locker most of the way.

  Serena handed me a note, and in a somber voice said, “It’s for Tony. Rachel is breaking up with him. You might want to, you know, sort of prepare him for the news.”

  “Oh, uh, yeah.” Exactly how did she imagine I was supposed to prepare him? And besides, if the last few days of note passing hadn’t prepared him for trouble, nothing I could say would. I was just glad this was the last note I had to play postman with.

  Then a terrible thought occurred to me. If Serena didn’t have any notes for me to deliver, maybe she wouldn’t stop by my locker anymore. Or worse yet, maybe because of all of this fighting with Tony, she wouldn’t want anything to do with me. This was a bad thought. As I pulled out my English book I said, “We’re still studying after school at my house, right?”

  “Sure.” She brushed a strand of long brown hair back into place. “I’d better get to class.” She turned to go, but before she left said, “Let me know how Tony takes the news.”

  I walked to English and wondered if all girls gave such impossible requests. She wanted me to let her know how Tony took the news? If Tony didn’t care, and I told Serena that, it would cement both Rachel’s and Serena’s dislike for him. If Tony was all broken up about it, and I told Serena that, Tony would be so embarrassed he’d pound some of my internal organs out of shape. And I’d have to let him, because I’d deserve it. You just didn’t give out that sort of information about your best friend. So really the only solution to this problem was for me to either avoid the subject altogether, or make up something that wouldn’t enrage the girls or mortify Tony. Only I didn’t know what that was.