Throwing Like a Girl

by Weezie Kerr Mackey

“You’re right. It’s not fair.”

  “What can I do?”

  He swallows. “I’m not sure you can do anything, Ellie.”

  “But, Dad. She’s my friend.”

  We look at each other for a minute. “Sometimes things like this have a way of working themselves out,” he says. “Give it time.”

  Later, as I lie in bed, I know we don’t have time. I need to come up with something fast.

  Finally, during Spanish the next day, a plan begins to materialize in my head. I need to talk to Rocky before practice, if possible, but I don’t see her. I see Nate, coming toward me from across the quad.

  “Ella Kessler,” he says. “You’re avoiding me.” He smiles, looking nervous.

  I can’t help but smile back, finally. “Not intentionally.” I explain about Rocky.

  I want to say more, maybe ask his advice, but I’ve decided not to tell anyone extra about my plan. Not Frannie and Mo, not my parents. Not even Rocky. To make it work, it has to be executed in secrecy. In the dead of night. And besides, I’m still not sure how I feel about Nate.

  “So, I’ll see you in class?” he says.

  “Of course.”

  At practice, I try to be upbeat. I try to make jokes like Frannie and throw a little physical comedy into the mix. But Coach isn’t having any of it.

  “Ella, if you can’t keep it together, why don’t you take a few laps around campus?”

  “Sorry, Coach. I’m okay. Better than okay.”

  In the locker room, Rocky tells me, “I can practice with the team this week, but I need to be home this weekend. Tulsa is officially off.”

  I nod my head. I don’t bother asking questions. It’s time for action. It’s time to talk to Theresa.

  By Thursday I’ve got my instructions with backup plans typed and tucked in an envelope. I sneak them into Theresa’s cubby after third period, and the next time I see her, she gives me the slightest nod. My perfect partner in crime: discreet, aloof, and reckless enough to want an adventure, any adventure. Plus, she’s still so enamored by the fact that I actually went to prom she’d do anything for me. And really, she’d do anything for Rocky, she just won’t admit it.

  I have a plan worked out for Nate, too. I’m going to talk to him enthusiastically about nothing during Behavioral Science. I’m going to be friendly and interested and look him right in the eye. Surely I can just plow through this thing. But he’s not there. He’s excused for dress rehearsals and the plan falls flat.

  Practice is bittersweet. My first season of playing a sport is over. I feel so different. Stronger. And smarter about something I hardly knew anything about before. Girls who were strangers are now friends, not the kind who hang out at your cubby between classes, but the kind who high-five you on the field when you make a good play; there’s something deeper about that. For Kat and Marcie, the team’s two seniors and co-captains, it’s the last practice of their high school careers. They give emotional speeches about never forgetting us and hoping we make Division I next year. Frannie performs a little song and dance that she made up, and Coach praises them for their leadership. And then that part is over, too.

  Coach quizzes us on the stats for Friday’s first game—we’ve got ’em down cold—and informs us what time to be at the bus tomorrow morning. She collects permission slips but doesn’t read a lineup. She barks out some orders for drills, but none of us breaks a sweat. Sally is present, but detached during practice. I try, but I can’t muster any sympathy for whatever she went through at prom, real or imagined.

  I haven’t decided whether I’m going to Nate’s dress rehearsal for Show Boat. He only mentioned it that once. But after practice, Frannie and Mo want to know if I’m going and I say yes without a moment’s hesitation.

  The car ride home takes forever. We’re all quiet. Theresa and I exchange a look, I think. She’s so understated I can’t be sure.

  At drop-off, I say, “Hang in there, Rock.”

  Theresa gets out of the car to take my seat in front. She rolls her lips together to keep from smiling. She seems to have more confidence in my plan than I do.

  At the front door, my mother greets me, drying her hands on her apron. “Maureen called. She wants to know if you need a ride to the dress rehearsal.”

  I know what’s coming.

  “You didn’t tell me Nate was the lead in Show Boat.”

  I don’t have time to say anything before she gushes, “Daddy’s working late, and I love Show Boat, you know that. I’d love to see him perform.”

  I say, “Mother, you can’t go.” I can’t let her think everything’s fine and dandy with Nate.

  “I won’t sit with you girls. You won’t even know I’m there.”

  “Mom, no, I’m sorry.”

  She looks so hurt, I want to explain or at least try to make her feel better, but I don’t. Instead, I call Mo back. She’ll pick me and Frannie up around seven. I shower, eat, and cram in some studying before she arrives, avoiding my mom as much as possible.

  We sit near the back of the auditorium. I can see Sally, Gwen, and Joy in front.

  From the moment the curtain rises, you can tell that Nate’s having so much fun. He’s in his element, and I have this flash to the future, reading People magazine, where they show a picture of him from his high school production of Show Boat and now he’s some big movie star. In every scene, even if someone else is singing, you can’t take your eyes off him. It’s a good thing he’s the lead. If he weren’t, he’d steal the show.

  I’m nearly crying at the end because he’s so good. I don’t know how I can possibly deal with my feelings for him, my contempt for his sister, and my plan for Rocky all in one night. So I let it go for now. I’ll give it time, like my father said.

  After the stage goes dark, Mo says, “You going backstage to congratulate him?”

  “I was thinking about it.”

  “Are you kidding? You have to,” Frannie says.

  “Will you guys come with me?”

  “Absolutely,” they say together.

  We start down the row that leads to the backstage door when, out of nowhere, Sally, Gwen, and Joy come and block our way. I can tell something’s very wrong because of the way Gwen and Joy look at me, and how Sally’s eyes fix on mine.

  “You’re not going backstage to see Nate, are you?” Sally says.

  “It was a great show, wasn’t it?” Frannie says to Gwen and Joy.

  Sally glares at her, then to me, “Isn’t this thing over yet?”

  “What thing?” I ask, my voice bland, but I can feel that she’s about to blow. And no explanation can change the fact that she’s mean. And although it may not be about me, I’m still in the crosshairs.

  “The thing with my brother.”

  I try to find it in my heart to forgive her. For everything. But I feel nothing. Which doesn’t mean I’ve found something fantastic to say back to her. So once again, I’m speechless.

  “Well, that answers that, doesn’t it?” She steps back and points toward the exit to the lobby. “I think you meant to go that way.”

  Frannie, Mo, and I file past them and out into the lobby, which is still crammed with people. I can hardly look at them. “God,” I hiss. “I’m so pathetic. I can’t…do anything.”

  “You’re not the only one,” Frannie says. “She likes to catch her prey unaware. It never fails.”

  “Should we go get something to eat?” Mo offers.

  “No, I’ve got a paper due for English tomorrow that I have to finish,” I say.

  And they both nod their understanding. I appreciate the quiet on the ride home, and when I get out, Mo says, “Try to get some sleep, Ella. Big day tomorrow.”

  Inside, a note on the kitchen table reads: Alarm set for 6. Hope you had a good time. Dad

  Mom’s still mad about the play, otherwise she would’ve left the note.

  I wish I could disappear for one week, so I wouldn’t have to deal with Sally in Tulsa, where who knows what might happen. I w
ouldn’t have to worry about whether Rocky will show up tomorrow or get in trouble with her dad. Maybe I should look for summer jobs in Chicago since I have to be up there for the wedding, anyway. I could stay with Christine and hide from everything bad in my life. Go back to who I used to be.

  The bus leaves at seven sharp. I hug my father good-bye and get in the car with my mom, who is still acting a little cool with me. I’m nervous and tired, and I want to tell her everything, that I’ve done something that might get me and Rocky and Coach in trouble. By now, Theresa will have packed a bag for Rocky, arranged pickup after school with their aunt Rita, and appointed Anthony ringmaster to get everyone off to school this morning early, so that Rocky makes it to the bus on time.

  “If you forgot to pack anything,” my mother says, “call me, and Dad and I will bring it up when we come.”

  “Thanks, Mom.”

  “We’ll be up by this afternoon’s game, okay?”

  I lean over and give her a kiss on the cheek, and she smiles, but not too big.

  I slip my overnight bag over my shoulder and get out of the car. I drop off my paper at the English Department then head to the gym. There are lots of athletes roaming around, since the track and tennis teams are also riding with us to the championships. Almost everyone is fresh out of the shower and looking a little rough around the edges. Frannie and Mo are helping Coach stow bags under the bus and I glance around casually, first for Rocky, then for Sally. No sign of either yet.

  Whether Rocky shows or not, I decide to explain everything to Frannie and Mo once we get on the bus.

  Coach calls to Sue Bee, who looks like she’s been up for hours. “How many are we missing?”

  And then a car pulls up in the parking lot, Anthony’s shiny green Honda. Rocky’s in the passenger’s seat, looking right at me. Mo’s saying something to me, but I can’t hear. I can’t believe Rocky made it.

  Anthony gets out at the same time as Rocky. Everyone stops talking and turns to stare at him. Coach says, “Who’s that?” and then she sees Rocky.

  I walk over to the car a few steps behind Coach. She hugs Rocky and says something to Anthony over the hood of the car. Theresa gets out of the backseat and helps the little boys. She grins at me, and I give her a thumbs up.

  “Yeah, and now we’re at school an hour early,” she says, but she’s smiling.

  Rocky gives her an awkward hug, then kisses her younger brothers. “Be good,” she says.

  “You, too,” Mikey says earnestly.

  To me, Rocky says in her quietest voice, “Thank you.”

  “How could we do it without you?” I say before the rest of the team crowds around us.

  Coach gives me a scolding look but can’t hide the gratitude in her eyes. “We’ll talk about this later,” she says.

  We find seats in the back of the bus. I have a perfect view of the aisle when Sally climbs aboard. I pretend to be fully engrossed in a conversation with my friends. It shouldn’t be like this, but it is. Sally’s stuck sitting up front. And I’ve narrowly escaped another scene with her.

  When Coach, Dixie, Sue Bee, and the tennis coach, Miss Sommers, confirm that everyone who should be on the bus is on the bus, the driver pulls out. Next to me at the window, Rocky waves to her family. Anthony, Theresa, and the little boys stand around the shiny green car, watching us. But this is a huge bus with tinted windows, so they can’t see her. Rocky stands up and knocks on the window, presses her palms against the pane.

  “Hey!” she yells. There’s so much noise on the bus that no one can hear the sadness in her voice except me.

  She sits down. “They know how much you love them,” I tell her.

  “Yeah.” Rocky glances at me. “Thanks for having something up your sleeve.”

  “Theresa was the one who did everything.”

  “She really came through. But listen. I have to tell you something. He doesn’t know.”

  I have this weird feeling she’s talking about Nate. “Know what?” I ask tentatively.

  “He doesn’t know I’m here.”

  “Your father?”

  She nods.

  “You didn’t tell him?”

  “I couldn’t. I couldn’t do it. I know it was part of the plan, but I couldn’t do it. Theresa and Anthony are gonna try to explain, and then I’ll just deal with the consequences when we get back.”

  I lean my head against the padded seat and close my eyes. All I can think is, Oh no.

  Rocky gives a shrug, and tells me she doesn’t want to talk about it anymore. She asks me if I went to Nate’s dress rehearsal, and I give her the same shrug.

  “What happened?”

  “Sally accosted me in front of Frannie and Mo. So I didn’t go backstage. He didn’t even know I was there.”

  “What?” Rocky leans forward in her seat. “You didn’t laugh in her face?”

  Frannie and Mo pop up over the seats. “What’re we missing?” Frannie asks.

  “Nothing,” I say before Rocky gets a chance.

  Frannie looks at Mo. “Do you ever get that feeling there’s a lot going on here we don’t know anything about?”

  I throw a wadded-up gum wrapper at Frannie, and she ducks. “See what I mean?” she yells from her hiding place behind the seat.

  Dixie’s voice interrupts us. She holds up a letter in one hand. “Ladies, ladies. I need your attention for one minute.”

  There’s still music, laughter, and some talking, but she’s got as much quiet as she’s gonna get.

  “I have a letter here from Mr. Michaels, our beloved headmaster. I’m required to read it to you before we arrive in Tulsa. And since we’re still intact one minute away from campus, I figure now is as good a time as any. He says, ‘Sports teams: Congratulations and best of luck in the SPC tournament this weekend. Although the thrill of competition is exciting and rewarding in many ways, remember you are representing Spring Valley Day School on and off the playing fields. Please respect your coaches and chaperones.’ That means us,” Dixie says. “And then he ends with: ‘We are proud to have you as ambassadors of our fine school. Sincerely,’ and so on.”

  We all start laughing and cheering. Apparently everyone thinks the headmaster’s a geek. I’ve never even met the guy. The minute Dixie stops talking, everyone resumes their level of noise.

  I lean over to Rocky and say, “I don’t want to talk about the Sally thing. You don’t want to talk about your dad. Call it even?”

  She nods. And so we talk about softball.

  Rocky says, “This whole week I’ve been having softball dreams, and they’re so real. Like normal games. Everyone’s in uniform. The ball is one of the new, white game balls. We play well: three up, three down. We’re high-fiving each other. The stands are full. Mr. Zawicki is there. Did I ever tell you about Mr. Zawicki?”

  I shake my head, but I’m caught up thinking how I love being on this bus with all these girls who play sports, even if Sally Fontineau, who wants to ruin my life, is half a bus in front of me. I love how brave Rocky is to be here on her way to Tulsa. I love that I’m on a team. I can hardly remember when I wasn’t. It’s not like every girl is my best friend. I don’t even know everyone that well. It’s just a thing that I feel a part of. It makes everything different.

  Rocky’s still talking. “He was my gym teacher the first time I ever played softball. He pulled me aside after class and said, ‘Miss O’Hara, that’s very impressive.’ And I said, ‘What is?’ And he said, ‘Your arm.’ So I looked at my arm because I was little, and I didn’t know that an impressive arm meant a good throw.”

  I try to imagine the scenario and it makes me smile.

  “Yeah, he laughed at that, too, in a really nice way. He told me, ‘You don’t throw like a girl, Miss O’Hara. And this is a very good thing.’

  “I had no idea what he was saying, but I understood that throwing a ball got me noticed. It was kind of a big moment for me.” She shrugs. “Not that I agree with the girl part. I think I throw exactly like a gir
l should. But in that moment when I figured out I could throw a ball, it was like I understood the world better. And the world understood me.”

  “I knew you were the one to teach me to throw like a girl.”

  I’ve never been good enough at anything to feel like I understand the world. But Rocky’s story makes me feel a little better. As if I’m helping her fulfill something that she was meant to do all along. Won’t her father have to understand that?

  The hotel in Tulsa is about a hundred stories high and has a fountain in the lobby and a pool off the main hallway that you can see through glass windows. Everyone from our bus is on the tenth floor. It’s like a sorority, with our bags and pillows and good-luck teddy bears. Doors slam, music blares. It’s magnificent. We check out the rooms—ours has a great view of Tulsa, which is nothing like Chicago or Dallas, but it’s cool to be up high enough to see the whole downtown.

  I hope my parents don’t end up on this floor.

  From the hallway we hear Coach yelling into a bullhorn that we have to be down for lunch in our uniforms in fifteen minutes. That gets us screaming and bustling.

  After pooling our snacks together and choosing the ones we want to bring to our first game (sunflower seeds and Starbursts), we dress in full uniform. Frannie demands that we check the comfort quotient of the mattresses before heading down to lunch. So we jump around for her benefit. Of course, she tries to flip from one bed to the next, hits the lamp with her foot, nearly breaks her neck falling to the floor, and ends up with the lamp in her lap.

  We hold our breath until Frannie says, “I think that’s the best catch I ever made.”

  From the lobby we’re ushered into a large room with lines of tables, not unlike the school cafeteria. On each table is a box with bag lunches.

  “Don’t worry, they’re provided by the hotel,” Dixie says.

  I’m so excited about our game, about being here and not in school, that I’m starved and nauseous at the same time. All I can manage to eat is a slightly green banana.

  At the host school, Holland Hall, the playing fields and track and tennis courts are teeming with kids and coaches. It’s wild to think that everyone here is missing school. Everyone will participate in something competitive—a race, a match, a game. Back at my old school, we had a really good basketball team that always went to state. I just had no idea what it meant. And now here I am.