by M. R. Joseph
“Well then, what kind of name is Hootie and the Blowfish for a band? Sounds like something that a restaurant in Port Jefferson serves.”
He rolls his eyes as the ball hurdles towards me once again.
“Don’t make fun of one of the greatest rock groups that will ever exist.”
I hold on to the ball tossing it in the air then catching it again.
“Gimme a break, dude. They suck.”
“Corrine!” His voice raises, and he calls me by my first name, not my nickname.
“What’d I say?”
“Suck. You said suck. If your mom and dad hear you say that, you’re gonna get in big trouble.”
I laugh at Mack and shake my head, pointing at him with my free hand. “Don’t tell me not to say suck.” I look around realizing I said that pretty loudly, and I’d get in trouble by my mother if she heard me, so I whisper back at him, “You said crap. That’s a curse word. It’s worse than suck.”
He shoos me with his hand and lets out a sound that’s a cross between a puff of air and a raspberry.
I throw the ball back to him at full speed. When the ball hits his hand, he winces when it appears the force of the ball hitting the glove hurt his hand. He takes off his glove and throws it to the ground.
“Jeez, that hurt!”
I place my hands on my hips and smile proudly at him.
He looks mad. Then he hears the song change on the radio, and his eyebrows go up.
“Oh, here’s your girly song now.” He starts to sing “Waterfalls” and begins to do a strange dance. Wiggling his hips and wildly throwing his arms around and spinning in a circle.
Twelve-year-old boys are so annoying. He sticks his tongue out at me, and I run full sprint and tackle him to the ground. I know how to make Mack Cooper pay.
Tickle him till he wets his pants.
That’s what I do and that’s what he does.
“Corrine, get off of me. I can’t … Stop, Rinny … Rinny, I’m going to …”
Mission accomplished. He will never make fun of my music again.
At our usual Sunday night dinner together, my parents, and Mack’s parents start to grill us on how we feel about starting middle school next week. Mack is fine with it, but I’m a wreck. I don’t let Mack or my parents know I feel like this.
A million things go through my head. What do I wear? Will girls from other schools think I’m a dork? Will boys think I’m a dork? Am I a dork? Do I wear glitter nail polish? Do I wear one of those flannel shirts everyone is wearing nowadays?
Mack, of course, eases into the conversation. He thinks he’s so much older than I am by the way he talks. He’s only a few months older.
“I’m fine with starting middle school, Mae. I plan on making the baseball team and writing for the school newspaper.” I roll my eyes.
“You can’t write for the school paper in seventh grade, doofus. You have to wait till eighth grade.”
I take a bite out of my fried chicken and shake my head. Mack looks annoyed.
“Whatever, smarty pants. At least I can try out for the baseball team. They don’t even have one for the girls.” Mack picks up a piece of chicken and inspects it, twirling it around his fingers, as he says, “Guess you’ll just be stuck throwing the ball around in the yard with me till you get to high school. Unless you cut your hair and saran wrap your chest, then you can try out for the team.” He laughs. His parents yell at him for saying what he said, while I pick up a tater tot and throw it at him. It hits him right between the eyes, and it feels so good when I see him flinch. I’m so angry but I also feel like I could cry. Lately my emotions have been all over the place.
I hate feeling like this! I want to cry all the time, and my boobs hurt when the shower water hits them. These damn boobs. They popped out overnight, and I don’t want them. They’re always in the way. And back to the crying. Mack and I saw Sleepless in Seattle last week and I cried. And I don’t mean sniffled. I sobbed!
“Shut your ugly mouth, Mack.” I point at him angrily.
I immediately get yelled at by my mom and I feel the tears building up behind my eyes.
“Corrine, don’t say shut up. It’s not nice.”
I glare at her, and as hard as I try to hold them back, the tears just come anyway.
I throw down my napkin and push my chair back roughly from the table.
“Fine. Stick up for him. You always do!” I yell at my mom and then run to my quiet spot.
This is my spot beyond the tall beach grasses, about a quarter mile away from my house. I always come here to think since no one can see me sitting here. The oats are so high, even if I’m crying, no one can hear me because the wind blowing through them muffles my sounds. I don’t know why Mack has to pick on me. I don’t know why my mother always has to stick up for him. I know he’s like her kid, but he’s not. I am.
I’m cold sitting down here by the water. I should have grabbed my jacket before I came down, but I was in a hurry. I needed to get away from my mom and Mack as fast as I could.
Mack thinks he’s so perfect. He thinks he’s a know-it-all. I know Mack is super smart. Sometimes he’s too smart for his own good. He’ll be in all the advanced placement classes come next week and I’ll just be in the regular ones. The basic classes with the basic kids and the basic teachers. I like school, but Mack—Mack loves school. I don’t understand why.
I hug my legs bringing my knees to my chest. Resting my head on my knees, I think about starting middle school next week. My stomach feels funny, and my tears come out faster and faster and I can feel them falling on my skin.
God, why can’t I just not be nervous and just feel normal. Why do I have to feel this way? And it’s not just because of school—it’s everything. Just the littlest thing sets me off lately.
Suddenly, my head is covered with something and it gets dark. Surprised, I throw whatever it is off of me and I realize it’s my jacket. I look to my left and see Mack standing there throwing pebbles at the water.
I look up at him, but he doesn’t look at me. He just talks.
“Mae thought you might need it. It’s getting colder out every day.”
I don’t answer him; I just put on my jacket.
He plops down next to me on the mossy, pebbled sand.
“Can I tell you the truth about something, Rinny?”
I shrug and look away. I don’t want him here. What’s he going to say to me? My batting average sucks? I know this already.
He laughs a little. “I can’t believe I’m about to say this to a girl. I must be nuts.”
I roll my eyes. “Spit it, Mack.”
“I’m nervous.”
I continue to look away from him and out towards the water.
“Nervous about what? Not making the baseball team?” I snort.
“No. I’m nervous about going to middle school. I’m nervous about my classes. I’m nervous about meeting new kids. I’m nervous about having to take the bus with some of the older kids. I’m just … nervous.”
I turn my head to look at Mack, and my eyes go wide. I stick my finger in my ear and wiggle it around. Maybe I didn’t hear correctly.
“You haven’t been afraid of anything, Mack Cooper, and probably never will be. Stop with the bullcrap.”
He chews on one of his fingernails and fidgets.
“I’m serious. And my God, you have a bad mouth.”
I sigh. “Mack, you aren’t serious. You walk around the neighborhood like you own it. Everybody knows you. Everybody loves you. You’re like a king around here.” Mack adjusts his body and turns towards me with his legs crossed in front of him. He picks up a piece of washed up seaweed and rubs it between his fingers.
“Yeah, maybe in our school, but what about the other elementary schools? They don’t know me. What if they think I suck as a first baseman?”
I turn and face him. I make my legs go in the same position as his, so our sneakers are touching at the tips. It’s our usual position when we play board g
ames.
When I finally get a look at Mack’s face, I can see he’s not lying. It’s not a load of crap. He looks … scared. For the first time in his life, I really think Mack Cooper is scared.
I play with the ends of my ponytail and pick at the split ends.
“Mack, no one is going to hate you. No one is going to think you suck as a first baseman. Just like in our school—everyone will instantly love you. They always do. I’m the one who has to worry about all of that. Except the baseball part.”
He looks up at me with one eye through his shaggy brown hair.
“Girls have it easy, Rinny. You just walk around and talk about clothes and hair and boys. I have to worry about beating someone out for a spot on the team, keeping up my grades, and getting a spot on the school newspaper.”
I can feel this strange feeling bubbling up inside me like I want to explode. I take a deep breath in and talk through my teeth. Something Mae yells at me for all the time.
“You think being a girl is so easy? I’m a tomboy in case you haven’t noticed, Mack. I could care less about hair and clothes and boys. I care about the Yankees going to the World Series and Pettitte staying off the DL list, and if I don’t argue with Mae will she buy me a new pair of cleats. I’m worried what the girls from other schools will think of me because I am the way I am. I like baseball. I wear sneakers every day and my best friend is a boy. There are my worries.”
Mack’s voice is low. “I’m sorry, Rinny. Maybe … well maybe we have different worries, but we feel the same. Like we’re both nervous for different reasons.”
I turn and face the water, and we’re silent for a while. We listen to the whistle of a boat nearby and the seagulls calling out to each other. Mack draws circles in the sand over and over again with a stick.
“You have any dreams, Rinny? What do you want to do when you grow up? Do you want to get married and stay home like your mom to take care of your kids, or do you want to do something else?”
What I want to be is something I think I’ve always known since I was small.
“I want to be a lawyer.”
“Why a lawyer?” he questions.
“Because I argue with Mae all the time, and my dad tells me I could talk my way out of a parking ticket. Whatever that means. I like to argue, so I want to be a defense attorney.”
He crinkles up his nose.
“Oh, okay. How come I didn’t know that? I thought you wanted to be the first woman Yankee?”
I shake my head. “You don’t know everything about me, Mack Cooper.”
Sounding defeated, he tells me, “Guess I don’t.”
Mack looks disappointed with my answer, and I can’t help but to try to make him feel a little better.
“Mack? Can I ask you something?”
Still drawing in the sand, he nods his head and says, “Sure, shoot.”
“Do you sometimes feel like you’re changing? Like the things that we thought about last year, we don’t think the same about? I’m not sure I’m explaining it the right way. I mean, sometimes I just feel like I …” Mack interrupts me.
“Like you want to scream and no one understands how you feel?”
“Yes!” Shocked that he knows exactly the way I feel—I almost scream my answer.
I expect Mack to laugh, but he doesn’t. He rests his chin on his hand, and places his elbow on his knee and stares at the circles he has drawn in the sand.
And I realize something. This isn’t all about me. It isn’t all about the way I feel. Mack feels different too. I would have never guessed it. Mack hid the way he feels well. He looks sad.
I lift my hand and reach for the scar I gave him a few years ago. When my thumb touches it, Mack flinches and pulls his head away slightly.
I’m not sure why he does this, so I scrunch up my face in confusion. He knows when I’m sorry or when he’s hurting this is what I do. I put my hand back down on my lap and look out at the water again. A minute later, Mack grabs my hand and places it over his right eye. He runs it back and forth over his scar. I look at his shaggy brown hair and his summer freckles. His eyes are closed giving me the chance to really look at him. “Mack …” That’s when it happens. Out of the blue, MacIntyre Cooper leans over with my hand still on his head and kisses me. On the lips. The feeling is warm and safe and makes my belly flip. At first, my eyes are open and the only things I see are Mack’s long lashes and closed lids. Then as his lips are still fused to mine, I close my eyes and my chest feels funny. But I’m not minding it.
After a second, Mack pulls away slowly as a few droplets of rain start to come down. His eyelids flutter as he opens them. He looks scared and nervous. I can’t do anything but stare at him.
“Rinny … I’m so …” He runs his hand through his hair, then picks up a stone from the ground, and throws it.
He leans his elbows on his knees like he’s in pain and puts his head down.
“I shouldn’t have done that. I’m sorry, Rinny. I don’t know why I kissed you.”
I’m still confused as to why he kissed me. I briefly touch my lips before turning away to play with the sand, ignoring Mack.
We stay so still and quiet letting the cool rain wash down on us.
“Fall is coming. I can feel it in the rain.”
Mack looks over at me and shakes his head. “You don’t have to make me feel better by making small talk. I’m an idiot.”
“Why are you an idiot? I let you do it. I could’ve decked you.” Mack lets out a small laugh.
“Yeah, you could’ve. I’ve seen you do it. Remember when you knocked out Chris Andrews for teasing you after you missed that pop-up during last year’s game?”
“Of course I remember. My knuckles hurt for a week, and Mae made me go over to his house and apologize.”
“He called you a wimpy girl who didn’t know one end of a baseball mitt from the other. He was asking for it.”
We laugh and then go silent once again.
Mack kissed me. He was my first kiss, and I know I was his first because Mack tells me everything. Out of all the girls in our neighborhood who chased after him, why did he choose me?
The rain starts to come down a little harder and my chance of asking him is slowly disappearing.
A crash of thunder sounds in the air and I jump.
Mack, never being afraid of the sound, stands up brushing the sand from his shorts before holding out his hand for me to take.
“Let’s go, Rinny. Before Mae sends out the neighborhood watch people to look for us.” I look up at him just as the downpour of the rain begins.
I take his hand and run down the pebbled road to our houses. We don’t speak; we only run to separate homes.
When I reach my bedroom, I take off my wet jacket and throw it onto the floor. I flop on my bed not caring that my shirt and head are soaked. I lay there staring at my ceiling. The crash and boom of the thunder outside makes me shiver, but so do the thoughts that are going through my head. Mack kissed me. He’s like my brother—yet at the exact second he kissed me—he didn’t feel like one.
Why was that? Why did my stomach feel the way it did? What in the world was he thinking? Why did I let him? I take a deep breath in and close my eyes. I feel like laughing. I feel like crying. I feel … things I can’t explain.
A sound at my window breaks me from my worries; I know it’s one of the stones Mack keeps in a glass jar in his room. When he wants to get my attention he throws one of them.
I go to my window and fling it open to see Mack hanging halfway out of his. He’s just as drenched as I am.
“Hey.” I give him a nod.
“Hey. I forgot to give you something. Hold out your hands and try to catch something for a change.” I stick my tongue out at him knowing he’s poking fun at my catching skills.
The windows to our bedrooms are so close I can see what comic book is on his desk.
I catch what he tosses, and turn over the plastic case and look at it.
I look up out t
he window and see Mack grinning. I shake the plastic in my hand at him along with my head.
“TLC’s CD? Really, Mack?”
“I know you like that stupid song.”
“You’re an idiot.”
“You’re a pain in the butt,” he answers back.
Mack ducks in his window and starts to shut it.
“Mack, wait!”
He stops and opens it up again.
“Why did you do it?”
“The CD?”
I shake my head. “Not that.”
Mack bites his lower lip and sticks his tongue out, looking at me knowing exactly what I’m talking about.
“I wanted you to be the first.”
I crinkle my forehead and point to myself and chuckle.
“Me? Why me?”
He shrugs. “I took a leap.”
Confused what that means I ask, “What does leaping have to do with it?”
“It means taking a chance. When you aren’t sure of something and you actually do it. You have to find out for yourself what it’s like. You take the leap. That’s what I did. I leaped.”
I remained stunned as Mack gives me a small wave.
He goes back inside and shuts the window, and we never talk about that leap again.
PRESENT DAY
Haven and I lay on the blanket at our favorite spot on the beach close to my parent’s house. Dad drove us down here in the new golf cart he bought so we can get around easily, especially times like this.
The sun shines brightly in our faces and we talk about One Direction and how they are coming to the Nikon Theater at Jones Beach in a few weeks.
“And they are all so cute, Rinny. I mean really cute!”
I smile at her. “So who’s your favorite?”
“Harry, definitely Harry.”
Her eyes light up and she’s giddy and it’s adorable.
“Harry is my favorite too.”
“Can you take me to the concert, Rinny? I know my Grandma won’t take me. Not sure about Nana Joce either.”
“I’ll see what I can do, kiddo.” She seems to be somewhat satisfied with that answer. I’m just not sure I could maneuver through the crowds without some help.
“Hey, tell me what’s new with you? How’s it going with softball? You been practicing your swing?”