We start walking. “That teacher is such a loser,” I say.
Rocky shrugs. “It’s easier to talk to me than my father. Plus, they get immediate results. Whatever. It’s better if he’s not involved.”
“Why? He’s your father.”
“He doesn’t know how to deal with the disciplinary things. I mean, he used to. Maybe he’s not around enough, you know?”
But I don’t think I know. We stop in front of one of the science labs.
Rocky says, “This is me.”
“How’d it go last night? Did you talk to Anthony?”
“Yeah. I’ll tell you all about it at lunch.”
In line at the cafeteria, Rocky and I shuffle down to the register with our trays. Frannie and Mo are already at a table by the back windows. I’m desperate not to add more tension to my friendship with them. “We can tell them,” I say to Rocky.
She looks at me.
“You can trust them.”
“It’s personal,” Rocky says. “I don’t want everyone to know.”
“Everyone around here knows everything anyway.”
She groans. “Okay.”
We get to the table and put down our trays. Frannie and Mo beam at Rocky because she really is a rock star.
“We’ve got some news,” I say to them. Without looking at Rocky, I keep on, “Rocky is making arrangements with her family to try to play softball again.”
After a pause, Frannie says, “May I be the first to welcome you back to the team?”
Rocky shakes her head and laughs. “Oh, please. We’re a long way from that.”
“So what happened when you told Anthony?” I ask.
“He was totally supportive. He acted like he didn’t know this was a big thing for me. He’s like, “You only played in eighth grade, how could I know it was so important?’ And I told him, “Anthony, I played in eighth and ninth grade. I was good. The school paper wrote articles about how I was gonna be the future powerhouse.’ Of course, he doesn’t remember all that because he was being written about, too. Even in the off-season.” She rolls her eyes.
“Anyway, he said he’d do whatever he could—rearrange his schedule, pick up the kids, whatever.”
“Wow,” I say. “That’s great.”
“He also said I should tell Dad immediately.”
“Did you?”
She spoons yogurt into her mouth. “I called Aunt Rita instead.”
“Mother’s sister or father’s?” Mo asks.
“Mother’s,” Rocky says. She nods at Mo like she appreciates being asked that detail. “She and my father don’t exactly see eye-to-eye on things, and when she used to take care of us, they hardly spoke to each other. It was bad.”
“So, what did she say when you told her?” Frannie asks around a mouthful of sandwich.
“She remembered everything. All about my games and how well I did. That it was the first thing that made me happy after my mother died. But she has her own family. She had to start being their mom again.”
“Does she want to help out?” I ask, getting to the point.
“She does. She’s really excited for me. But, she also said I have to talk to my father.” Rocky stares into her empty yogurt carton.
“How about we talk to Coach? Get everything in place, and then you can present it to your father knowing that you’re just waiting for his green light,” I say.
Rocky nods her head. “Okay. That sounds like a plan.”
After lunch, I pass Nate on the quad with his penny-burning buddies. I try not to look at him, but I see from the corner of my eye that he’s coming my way.
“Hey,” he says, all out of breath and so alive that it nearly knocks me over. He’s holding an envelope in his hand.
A letter for me? Did he write down whatever he wants to tell me?
“I went home for lunch today to pick this up. You know what it is?”
I shake my head.
“It’s a letter from the director of admissions at Southern Methodist University.”
“Oh.” And then I get what he’s saying. “Oh.”
He nods. “Yeah, I got accepted! I’m going to SMU in the fall.” He’s literally shining he’s so happy.
“That’s really awesome, Nate. Congratulations.”
A soccer ball floats his way. He takes one step and effortlessly heads the ball back to the middle of the quad. Of course, he can do anything. “Gotta go. I just wanted to tell you,” he says.
That’s it? That’s all he has to say? Does he want to be my friend or not? I mean, I never understood why he seemed so interested in me. I’m a sophomore. I don’t know anyone. I don’t talk in class. I don’t have hip clothes. Was it just for the Marriage Project? There’s no other explanation, I decide. So I wave as he goes back onto the quad. As I approach the doors of the upper school, I think I see him watching me, and it makes me kind of sad.
In the library at the end of the school day, with all my books spread out in front of me, I’m trying to mentally prepare myself for starting in my first game. It’s scary. The construction workers will be there. My parents will be there. Even if I’d told Nate, he wouldn’t have believed me, so I don’t have to worry about him being there. But still, a lot of people will be watching. Some of my teachers might come. And Mack Elliot.
I pack up my books and whip down to the bathroom. Just as I’m about to pee, some girls come in and I get stage fright. The girls are in mid-conversation, and I immediately recognize Sally Fontineau’s voice.
“Why would anyone apply to a college in the same town that he lives? Who does that?”
She must be talking about Nate, although I didn’t know SMU was in Dallas.
“But you said your dad went there,” Joy says.
“So? Does he want to please my father? That’s even worse. He says he wants to get into advertising. Why? I don’t know. I don’t think he even knows what advertising is. And also, is there really a degree in advertising?”
Gwen and Joy laugh. I can hear them changing into their uniforms, pulling on their socks and cleats. They don’t even get into a stall. They don’t care if anyone sees them. I hold my breath, start to sweat, pray they don’t hear me.
“And get this: After college he apparently wants to live and work in Dallas. Dallas. Doesn’t he want to go somewhere different? Doesn’t he want to see the world? Like at least Tulsa or Houston?”
“But Sally, he’ll be around. Won’t that be nice for you?” Joy says.
No answer. I don’t try to look through the crack of the stall door. I don’t want to see her reaction. But I think I can guess.
Even if he lives on campus she’ll know he’s there, close by, and she can get him if she needs him. And she does. Whatever’s going on at home and in the rest of her world, it’s too much for Sally to handle alone. I’ve figured out that much, at least.
I know the feeling. Not that I have any rights to Nate, but I’ve discovered that people can fall into your life, even if it’s for a short time, and you might not be sure what they mean or why they appeared, but there they are. You can depend on them. Like Rocky. And Frannie and Mo. And Coach. I know I can count on them.
And it makes me understand why Sally can’t say anything back to Joy. It’s scary to need people.
Then, as fast as they came in, they grab their things and run off, leaving me undiscovered and late for warm-up.
We lose our game in the last inning. The good news is that I play the whole time and don’t make one error. I get three hits, but unfortunately none of them count. So, Sue Bee informs me that I didn’t actually get three hits. (I want her to explain, but decide to stick to my less humiliating online resources.) One was a popup, caught by the shortstop, and the other ones were grounders, and I got thrown out at first by the second baseman and again by the shortstop. I gave Short the evil eye but I don’t think she noticed.
The clincher to losing the game was my mother. She arrived wearing that stupid polka-dot scarf she wore to the first
game we lost. I told her never to wear it again, but she always forgets things like this.
After the game my parents come over. I say, “Mom, that’s the bad-luck scarf.”
She looks confused and then, “Oh, Ella. Sorry.”
My dad goes off to talk to Coach like they’re old friends. There’s a line of people wanting to talk to her and shake her hand—parents and teachers—so my father gets into a conversation with Mack Elliot.
I stare at him, trying to tell him telepathically that he needs to stop talking to everyone in the whole world. Just as I’m focusing on my father, my mother asks, “Why isn’t Rocky playing? She’s helping you so much, and she’s really good.” My mother watches me carefully. “Is there a reason she isn’t on the team?”
“You mean besides the fact she doesn’t have a mother?” I say this gruffly because I explained it the first time Rocky and I threw at our house.
“Eleanor Kessler, you will not speak to me that way. I’m asking a question, not insulting you. You don’t have to be defensive with every response.”
I can see her point. But I don’t say so.
She says, “I know she has responsibilities at home. You told me all that and about carpooling her brothers and sister. I’m asking, is there any way she could play softball, too?”
My mother has this uncanny ability to understand situations. I hadn’t planned to tell her about our scheme until Rocky had spoken to her family.
My father has his back to us. He and Mack Elliot point at the Peyton Plastics building, which has made considerable progress.
I turn back to my mother. “It’s funny you ask about that.”
“Why?”
“Because I think she should be playing, too. She used to, and she was a superstar.”
My mother smiles as if she completely understands. “So, what’s the plan?”
I can’t believe I’m telling her this. I feel like I’ve hardly told her anything else about my life since we moved here. “Well,” I say. “She’s already talked to her older brother and her aunt, and they’re going to help out.”
“What about her father? What does he say?”
I raise my eyebrows.
“She hasn’t told him? She has to tell him.”
“Mom, I know. First we’ll talk to Coach and make sure there aren’t any rules against joining the team midseason. Then she’ll talk to her dad.”
“You know I’ll help out, if you want me to.”
I have that scratchy throat, stinging eye feeling I get right before I cry, but I keep it together. “Thanks, Mom.”
I grab my glove and hat and start walking toward campus.
It’s then that I notice Nate coming down the hill. He’s not running, but he’s walking fast. His hands are hidden in his pockets.
“Ella,” he calls.
“I didn’t know SMU was in Dallas,” I say as we get closer, and this makes him laugh.
“Yeah. I’m gonna be around for a few more years.” He looks at me. “What do you think of that?”
I don’t say anything.
“Do you want to go to prom with me?” he blurts.
“What?”
“Prom. You know, school dance, pretty dresses, tuxedos. Would you like to go?”
“But, I—”
“I’m just so happy, Ella. I had a good day. And I’m asking you to prom so we can go on a date.” He looks down in a shy kind of way. “We could go as friends if that’s what you want.”
“No.” I shake my head. “I mean yes. I’d love to go.” Please, God, let my parents say it’s okay.
He smiles. “Really? I know it’s short notice. It’s also on the same day as your Fort Worth tournament.”
“What Fort Worth tournament?”
He laughs. “Two weeks from Saturday.”
“Oh, right. Right.”
“At least it’s close. I think Sally’s going to the prom, too. And Gwen and Joy. So, you’ll be on the run together.” He grins as if this is possible. “You didn’t tell me you were starting today.”
“Your news seemed a little…bigger.”
“Starting is big, too. Hey, I have to catch my ride,” he says. “Say hi to your parents.”
He waves as he jogs away and I wave back, sweaty and confused and dirty, but gleaming on the inside. I’m going to my first dance, and not some little Hearts Afire dress rehearsal of a dance, either. This is the real thing. The prom.
In the car, I can tell that my mother saw Nate and is dying to ask about him. But she holds off. My father says even though we lost, the team is really starting to play hardball, and then he goes on about the Peyton Plastics building, how the panels are almost complete—that means the workers won’t be able to watch us anymore—and the fact that Coach and Mack are dating.
I sit in the back, numb from the whole day, thinking I need to call Christine, Jen, and Amy to tell them I’m going to prom. They’ll scream and want to know what I’ll wear and how he asked me and everything. I don’t think I’m up to it tonight.
Dad pulls into the garage, and we all get out. In the kitchen, my mother unties the scarf. “I promise I’ll retire this until the end of the season.”
“What?” I say. “No. Don’t.”
“But I thought—”
“I changed my mind. It’s actually not bad luck. It might even be good.”
She smiles one of her shrewd smiles. There’s no possible way she could know that Nate just asked me to prom, but she knows something. She always does.
Later on, I work up the nerve to ask my parents’ permission to go to prom, but my worries were unnecessary. I think by the fourth daughter and amid the planning for the first wedding, they’re worn down a bit.
My father’s reaction is to put aside the newspaper, take off his glasses, and grin. “Now there’s a curveball out of left field. I like that boy. Good for you, Ella.” As if I’d gotten accepted at my safety school, and he was assured that I’d be going to college somewhere.
My mother is enthusiastic but also her same, old practical self. “Oh, darling. What fun this will be. We have to get you a dress soon, if it’s two weeks from now.”
I text message the girls back home and there is a flurry of happy responses, but I can’t seem to find time to actually talk to them on the phone.
On Friday at lunch, I plan on telling my friends, but I feel shy about it for some reason and decide to start with Rocky on the ride home today. Before that, though, I’ve agreed to go with her to see Coach during a free period.
Coach is on the phone when we get there. Dixie’s in the office with two other guy coaches, debating results from the Rangers’ spring training.
Coach sees us and holds up one finger to let us know she’ll be a moment.
Dixie says, “Hey, Rock. Hey, Chicago, how you girls doin’?”
One of the other coaches chants, “Ro-cky, Ro-cky.”
I don’t know why this surprises me—that everyone knows her. Of course, they would. She’s been here forever, her brother was a star football player, and she was a star softball player. For a while.
Coach hangs up. “Hi, Ella. And you must be Rocky O’Hara. I’ve heard a lot about you. What can I do for you two?”
“Could we talk to you privately?” Rocky says.
“Sure. How about in the athletic director’s office? Mr. Hardy’s in a meeting.”
“You’re not gonna close the door, are you?” Dixie yells as we walk in and Coach closes the door. Then a muffled, “But how am I supposed to hear what’s going on?”
We laugh. Rocky begins, “Ella and I are trying to figure out a way for me to play softball this season. I wanted to know, before I talk to my father, if there’s any reason why I wouldn’t be eligible.”
We’re standing there in the cramped office. Coach sits on the edge of the desk. “Wow,” she says. “Can you tell me why you didn’t try out at the beginning of the season?”
Rocky takes a deep breath. “I have a lot of responsibilities at home,
and it’s made it hard to participate in after-school activities.”
“Have those responsibilities changed?”
“No,” Rocky says reluctantly.
Coach nods. “So, what makes now different?”
“I guess Ella does. She’s made me see that I might be able to do this.”
I jump in. “I think she’s doing more than her share at home. Her family can help out more. We’ve already asked them.”
“What about your dad? He’s a hard sell?” Coach obviously knows Rocky’s background. Probably from Dixie.
“You could say that.”
“I’d love to have you on the team, Rocky. From everything I’ve heard, you’re exactly what we need. I don’t know of any rule that prevents you from playing, but that doesn’t matter if you can’t convince your father. You need to talk to him.”
“I know. Everyone keeps telling me that.”
And so we leave with Coach’s green light. Now we just need Mr. O’Hara’s.
During practice I give Frannie and Mo the update, and we’re content with the progress, although I’m still pretty worried about Rocky telling her father.
On the ride home, I decide to wait on the prom info. Rocky has bigger things to deal with.
When there’s enough bustling in the backseat not to be overheard, I ask, “You gonna talk to him tonight?” as quietly as I can.
“I think so.”
“Call me if you need moral support.”
“Moral support for what?” Theresa asks.
I need to work on my quiet voice.
“For being your sister,” Rocky jokes.
Theresa rolls her eyes, but she gives me a quick look, like she seriously wants to know if everything’s okay.
I nod. But I’m not really sure.
We split a doubleheader against Hockaday on Saturday. I play great and get two singles and an RBI. My dad thoroughly enjoys this and my mother, wearing the lucky scarf, keeps tying and untying it through both games. I’m worn out by the time I get home and fall asleep before dinner.
I don’t hear from Rocky over the weekend so I call on Sunday night to find out what’s happening.
Throwing Like a Girl Page 13