She raised one hand from the keyboard. “Hi, baby.”
“How did you know it was me and not Viktor?” I asked, since she hadn’t looked up.
She typed another line, then turned to me. “I can hear you walk.”
“Mom, you should work in your office. I don’t need the room except to sleep. I feel like I’m pushing you out of your own spot.”
She dismissed the concern with a freshly painted set of nails. “When no one else is home, I find I can concentrate here,” she replied. “And I’m starting to grow attached to my pets.”
“Your pets?”
She pointed to the two pigeons that were sitting outside the window on the AC unit. “Brad and Andrea, the hero and heroine of Heat Lightning,” she added, referring to her current book.
The birds had found a comfortable roost in the narrow strip of daylight that slipped between the opposing walls of the back of our rowhouse and the house next door.
“How do you tell males and female pigeons apart?”
“I have no idea,” she admitted. “They could be Brad and Andrew. But they coo so sweetly, and I like their company. Writing can be lonely.”
I hadn’t thought about that, what it was like to go from being a middle school teacher with kids and other teachers around you every day to writing full-time. Maybe that explained Viktor. I looked down at the droppings outside the window. “You need a cat, Mom.”
“Viktor doesn’t like them. He says they slink around.”
Like he does, I thought, but I wouldn’t hurt her feelings by saying it.
“I’m on a roll, Jamie, so I’m going to keep writing. A new batch of cookies is hidden in the empty box of Kashi. Oh, and there was something pushed through the mail slot for you. It’s on the table in the living room.”
I grabbed three cookies and headed to the front room, curious. A sheet of newspaper had been folded several times to make a rectangle, with my name written across it in a felt tip pen. I unfolded the paper and read the fluid backhand script:
Jamie,
This looks like a fabulous film.
Would you come see it with me? Wed evening, 8 o’clock viewing.
Andrew
I read it twice more. He’s asking me out, I thought. This gorgeous guy is actually asking me out. And he wasn’t saying, “Hey, Jamie, want to hang with the guys at Sammy’s? Bring the chips.” He was issuing an invitation for a real date.
I read the printed background of his note, which was a review of the movie. French, with subtitles, the film’s name translated as The Dream of the Boar. Okay, large bristly pigs who spoke French were not my first choice of movie subject, and I doubted I’d get all the layers of meaning that the reviewer enjoyed, but it was a date with Andrew. And I could always tape the baseball game.
I hurried upstairs to write a quick response on a piece of my mother’s nicer paper. Then I placed the movie review under my pink satin rose.
Andrew called that evening to say he’d drive and that we should leave about seven fifteen the next day. I could hear soft, jazzy music playing in the background. Mona called as I was ripping open boxes and throwing clothes on the leopard bedspread, trying to figure out what to wear to the movies.
“Hi. What are you doing?” Mona asked.
“Wishing I had done some laundry before packing my clothes in Michigan.”
She laughed, then I told her about my date with Andrew and my various choices in clothes—that is, once I washed them.
“My advice is to wear what you most enjoy wearing. If you’re comfortable, you’ll shine, Jamie.”
“That makes too much sense,” I replied.
“Listen,” Mona went on, “I called with some awesome news. Hannah, the girl who was doing basketball camp with me, is sick. Well, that’s not awesome, but here’s what is. The big M needs a replacement for next week. Interested?”
“Are you kidding? I’d love it. But Ms. Mahler will never hire me.”
“I already talked to her about it, and she wants you to come in early tomorrow to fill out an application.”
“You must have given quite a recommendation.”
“Actually, she nabbed Josh, who was on a water break with the JV guys, and said she wanted an honest evaluation, a character reference, as she put it, since, obviously, we know you have the basketball skills to teach middle school girls. He said he didn’t know anything about your organizational ability, but in terms of your passion for athletics, he thought you’d be terrific…. Are you there?”
I was surprised by the flush of pleasure I felt, knowing Josh had recommended me.
“Jamie?”
“I’m here.”
“There are other camps, like the afternoon one for city kids who don’t have a place to play. Hannah was supposed to do that, too. Are you interested?” she asked.
“Oh, yeah!” I said. “Oh, yeah!”
Chapter 9
Wednesday morning, as I walked across the grass to Stonegate’s PE offices, I was feeling high as the June sun. In just a few days, my doomed summer had taken surprising and happy turns. I had a chance at a job for next week, maybe longer. I had a date with Andrew tonight. I was getting better at lacrosse. That morning, I’d even enjoyed Viktor’s “power breakfast.”
Ms. Mahler was waiting for me in her office. She didn’t seem any friendlier than when she had told Josh, “She’s all yours.” But she didn’t seem unfriendly, either, and as I handed her my application, she said, “Congratulations on being a Maryland Terp.” I thanked her and left.
Outside the birds were twittering away. Mona came galloping across the field to me and we laughed and walked together toward the girls’ practice field. Then I saw Melanie.
To be fair, if she had bound her boobs with an Ace bandage and duct tape, they still would have been…well, prominent. But the shirt she wore today was outrageous. Mona spotted her talking to Josh the same time I did, and she groaned in response. “Here we go again.”
We were ten minutes early, and only Amber and Kate, both of whom were dropped off by somebody on their way to work, had arrived. We joined them on the bench.
“I’ve got cleavage like that,” Amber said. “Unfortunately, I also have a waist and hips about three times the size of hers.”
“I’ve got cleavage like that, too,” Kate boasted, and we looked at her questioningly, because she was definitely on the wiry side. “I just like to keep my ass covered.”
Mona folded her hands as if she were praying. “God, help me resist zinging a chest-high pass.”
I would have laughed if I hadn’t felt partially responsible. I told myself that the boobs were there before the bet. But she definitely had herself on display now. I could never figure out how girls could be so obvious and guys could be such suckers, but I had seen it over and over at my high school, and I knew that the strategy worked.
Several other girls arrived, and comments continued to fly.
“Are breast steroids illegal?” asked Brittany.
Michelle and Brooke arrived three minutes before nine, completing the group, and Josh congratulated us on our promptness. Since he and I were nearly the same height, and Melanie was about five seven, I knew that when he looked down at her, he had the same great perspective of the cleavage.
She bounced through our jog lap and stretches, attended by Michelle and Brooke. Just before we started our drills, I got her alone for a moment.
“Melanie, we’ve got to talk.”
“Not now, everyone’s lining up.”
“This won’t take long. The bet’s off.”
She laughed a tinkling kind of laugh. “I don’t think so.”
“I know so.”
“But I’ve barely started,” she said. “And I’m enjoying it.” She wriggled her shoulders. “It makes sweating worthwhile.”
“Cut it out,” I told her. “It’s not fair to Josh.”
“Oh, my,” she cooed. “You sound worried—worried about losing.”
“That’s not t
he point,” I snapped. “I’m paying you the ten bucks now, and I want you to—”
“Ladies,” Josh called with strained patience. “Would you like to be part of this?”
Melanie and I turned to see that everyone was in position for the drill. She trotted off like a perky cheerleader and I joined the group at the opposite end.
“What were you saying to her?” Mona asked me when the drill was done and we were setting up for the next one.
I couldn’t admit to her that I had made the bet, so I avoided the question, asking back, “Do you have an extra T-shirt in your locker?”
She crinkled up her brow. “For Melanie?”
“Is there someone else who needs it?”
“Don’t be offended, Jamie, but you’re naive. Nothing stops girls like that, not T-shirts, not suits of armor.”
I sighed.
“Don’t worry,” Mona said calmly. “Josh can be very cool when he has to be.”
“According to Melanie, she can bring cool guys like him to their knees. The cooler they are, the harder they fall.”
“When did she say that?”
“Yesterday. You were scrimmaging.” It was the perfect opportunity to admit to the bet, but I couldn’t.
Mona shook her head, then we lined up for the ladder drill, an exercise with a ladder made of two pieces of rope and plastic bars, designed to improve your footwork. I had done it frequently enough and should have been good at it.
“Focus, Carvelli,” Josh barked at me as I continued to screw up.
During our first water break, without giving us a chance to kick back and talk, Josh launched into a discussion of defensive strategy. I figured that he could see the group was distracted and was attempting to keep us on track. But by the time we had sweated ourselves up to the second break, it occurred to me that he might have had another reason to talk to us as a group: the wish to avoid a one-v-one conversation with Miss Cleavage.
It was hotter than it had been the first two days, with a forecast for temperatures in the mid-nineties. We flopped on the grass beneath the trees and drained our water bottles—all of us except Melanie. She had questions for Josh and stood just about beneath his nose while she asked them, forcing him to look down. We watched and drank and mopped our foreheads.
“Poor little thing,” Amber said, pulling on the neckline of her extra-large T-shirt. “She’s just standing there trickling water. Somebody should wring her out.”
“We could take up a collection and get her a sweatband,” Kelly suggested. “Two of them, one for each boob.”
The other girls laughed, including Michelle and Brooke, who weren’t above snickering at the girl who obviously wanted to join their clique.
I didn’t laugh, and Monalisa studied me for a moment. “Girl, you had better drink a lot of water,” she said quietly, “because it’s coming out your ears as steam.”
Before we began to scrimmage, five-v-five, Josh warned us about managing the heat. “Each of you is responsible for monitoring yourself,” he reminded us. “The temperature is climbing, and the humidity is high. You have to let me know when you’re feeling the heat.”
“I’m feeling the heat,” Melanie said, and several girls laughed.
“We haven’t begun to play yet,” Josh replied, then he called out the names of the first and second teams, handing out pinnies to the first team. They pulled on the red nylon vests that were used to identify them as a “team” during practice. Melanie was assigned a pinny.
“I guess he noticed,” said someone.
“He’s a guy, isn’t he?”
Mona was assigned to Melanie’s team, playing midfielder, which meant she’d be passing the ball to Melanie, who was a forward. “God, help me resist,” she said, winking at me. When I grimaced, she gave me a poke with her stick. “Lighten up, Jamie.”
During the twenty-minute period, Josh rotated us in and out, doing his best to keep us from overheating. Finally, Melanie and I ended up on the sidelines at the same time.
“We’ve got to talk,” I said, as we stood side by side.
The other girls on the sideline edged closer. “The bet is off, Melanie. It was a stupid bet and it’s off.”
“I’d say it’s on,” Melanie replied. “At least, I’m on, and I’m going to win this thing.”
“Okay. You’ve won. You’re the winner—you can bring any guy to his knees. It’s over,” I reached in my shorts pocket for the money I’d put in there that morning.
“The question is whether I can bring Josh to his knees,” Melanie observed.
“You’ve convinced me,” I said, pressing the ten-dollar bill, damp with sweat, into her hand.
She handed it back. “I haven’t even started.”
“Bet’s over,” I said, placing the money in her palm and closing her fingers around it.
“Ow!” she squealed. “That’s my shooting hand.”
But I hadn’t hurt her, as was evident by the way she shoved the cash back into my pocket.
“Don’t you understand?” I said, my voice beginning to rise. “Don’t you get it?” I pulled out a second ten. “Here, twenty bucks, that’s what you wanted.”
“Don’t you get it?” she replied. “You can’t change the rules halfway through. You can’t back out.” She dropped the two bills, letting them flutter down to my feet. “They’re sticky,” she said.
I snatched up the money. “Good. Because this money is going to stick.” I pushed it down the front of her bra. It stuck all right.
That’s when I noticed the unusual silence on the field around us. Without looking, I knew the scrimmage had stopped. When I glanced sideways, I saw the other players staring at us, frozen like statues in some kind of sports hall of fame. Mona’s mouth was open. Josh’s mouth was closed, but he was speechless, at least for the moment. I turned back to Melanie. Two little tens peeked up from her cleavage. She laughed.
“Melanie, do walk-laps, five of them, this field,” Josh said sternly. “Jamie, same thing, next field. Find your cooler heads, ladies, or I’ll ask you to leave.”
So I went into exile. And frankly, I wanted to stay there. I had graduated from high school, why should I still have to deal with girls like Melanie? It wasn’t my idea to attend this stupid camp. It was my father’s way of making himself look like a good guy.
Oh, I was doing a great job of walking and feeling sorry for myself. I nearly walked right into Ms. Mahler, who had just sent her team on break. She raised an eyebrow at me, wondering what I was doing on her field.
“I’m, uh, finding my cooler head,” I said, using Josh’s words.
“Good,” she replied, with a brisk nod, and went on with her business. I realized I had better get on with mine.
When I got closer to the varsity field, I called to Josh, “Can I jog the laps to get them over with and get back in the game?”
He nodded.
I ran them, and after another water break, he did put me back in, with Melanie on my team.
I didn’t have to worry about the other girls’ comments or even a question or two from Mona. Everyone was acting like Olympic hopefuls now, making their best efforts to focus on practice.
Josh called us together at five minutes to twelve, gave us a rundown of tomorrow, and reminded us to “Drink water, drink water, drink water.” Then we lifted our sticks and gave a shout.
A few minutes later, when I opened my backpack to get out another bottle of water, I saw the twenty dollars lying on my towel. I took a good long drink, zipped up the pack, and heaved it onto my shoulder. When I stood up, my legs felt tired and rubbery.
“You okay?” Mona asked.
“Yup.”
“Jamie.”
I turned in Josh’s direction.
“May I see you for a minute?”
“Sure.” I grabbed my stick and headed toward him, noticing that Mona stayed discreetly behind. Most everyone else had cleared out.
He didn’t speak right away. His sunglasses were up on his head and
I found myself wishing he’d wear them so I wouldn’t have to meet his eyes.
“Look,” he said, “I’m not interested in what you and Melanie were fighting about.”
Oh, but you should be, I thought.
“But I am really surprised. And disappointed.”
My heart drooped a little. He was an athlete—he had to know that disappointing your coach felt worse than making him angry.
“I didn’t think you’d let yourself get sucked into that group, Jamie.”
I hadn’t thought so, either. Still, I got defensive. “But you don’t really know me, do you?” I replied.
I saw him blink, then he looked away for a moment. “No, I guess I don’t. But I know this much,” he said, his eyes narrowing into certainty, “you could be a great player if you applied yourself. You have the talent. It’s all a matter of desire and discipline.”
I shrugged, then gazed down at my feet.
“All right. See you tomorrow.” He picked up the bag of balls and headed in the direction of the PE offices.
“Are you sorry you recommended me to Ms. Mahler?” I called after him. It was dumb, but I had to know.
He turned back and studied me for a moment, his head tilted to one side. I couldn’t stand the tension. “There’s probably time to change it,” I baited him.
“Don’t test me, Jamie,” he said, and walked away.
Chapter 10
“You sure know how to create some excitement,” Mona observed as we walked to our cars. She had wanted to grab lunch at the dining hall, but I had a raging headache.
“Go home, turn up the AC, take a long bubble bath, and sip some raspberry tea,” she advised. “You’ve got to be in shape for Andrew tonight.”
“Oh, God, Andrew,” I said. “I forgot.”
“Pull yourself together, girlfriend! And if you think you’ll need a sub, let me know. Otherwise, I want all the details tomorrow—on the date and on what exactly happened today between you and Melanie.”
“Right,” I said, throwing a towel onto the seat of my broiling car, driving off before I even opened the windows. I was that desperate to get away from Stonegate’s fields.
Summer in the City Page 6