Playing the Field (9 page)

That’s when I saw him outside the math class
talking with Rachel. I don’t know why she was there because she had
English this period, and it was in a different hallway
altogether—well, actually I do know why she was there. It was
obvious she was there to flirt with Tony, and she was doing a good
job of it. She held onto one end of a novel and Tony held onto the
other.

“It’s my book now,” he said.

“Oh no it’s not,” she answered back in a
syrupy teasing voice.

“Oh, yes, it is,” he said in the same tone,
and they went on this way for a few moments fighting over who would
hold the book.

When Tony looked up and saw me, he let go of
the novel and talked in his normal voice again. “Is it time to go
in already?”

I nearly said, “Oh yes it is.” But instead I
just said, “The bell will ring any second.”

“I guess I’d better go or I’ll be late,”
Rachel said. We all knew she didn’t have a chance to make it to her
English class on time, but she didn’t seem to be bothered by this
fact. She gave Tony one last wave before she turned and strolled
down the hallway.

Tony grinned at me, then walked into math
class. As he sauntered over to his desk, I noticed that he’d
finally perfected his cool walk.

I sat down at my desk, took out my recorder,
and pressed the on button. Of course, I hadn’t counted on Mrs.
Swenson explaining so much of today’s assignment to us by doing
examples on the board. I quickly realized that if the class was
going to make any sense at all to Serena, she would need to know
what Mrs. Swenson was doing, so I kept picking the recorder up and
whispering comments into it. “Mrs. Swenson just wrote seven
x
over eight equals
x
plus three-fourths,” I’d say.
“Now she’s miraculously found the common denominator.” I felt like
a sports announcer, and so I did the rest of my commentary in a
sportscaster’s voice. “She’s stepping up to the plate,” I whispered
breathlessly. “Now she’s moved the
x
to the left side of the
equation. She’s put those bubble things around the left side, she’s
moving fast now, multiplying by twenty-four and dividing by
negative three, and she’s scored!
X
equals negative six. The
class goes wild!”

Tony passed me a note, but I was afraid if I
read it I’d miss something important, so I slipped the note into my
book and kept up my description of what Mrs. Swenson was doing at
the board.

When it was finally time to work on our
problems, I slipped the note out and read it. “Rachel and I are
meeting at the mall after baseball practice. I’d invite you to
come, but three’s a crowd.”

I knew he was showing off, but I didn’t care.
Who wanted to be around Tony and Rachel if they were going to do
stupid things like stand around and tease each other over who was
going to hold some book. I could just see them at the mall:

Tony (in a syrupy voice): “Oh, no, you don’t
get to go into The Gap.”

Rachel (in the same voice): “Oh yes I
do.”

I was going to Serena’s after practice to
drop off the tape and hopefully work on the math assignment. Math
was something you could talk about without sounding like your lips
were stuck in permanent baby-talk mode. I would much rather be with
Serena.

Chapter 7

When I got to Serena’s house, she seemed only
a little surprised to see me, and perhaps that was all for show,
because this time her hair was combed and pulled back in clips.

I showed her the tape I’d made and explained
what it was. She took it from my hands and smiled like I’d just
handed her a Christmas present.

“That’s so sweet of you. I’m sure it will
really help. Do you mind doing one for me every day?”

“Sure,” I said, and mentally added, I just
got a daily invitation to Serena’s house. Try and do that with an
airplane, Brian Vanders.

While I played the recording for Serena, Mrs.
Kimball brought in a bowl of popcorn, then left us by ourselves
again. I got out my notes from the day so Serena could follow the
examples I’d talked about on the tape.

She laughed when she heard my sportscaster
impersonation on the tape. Shaking her head, she said, “McKay,
you’re so funny.”

One quality down and four left to go before I
officially became Mr. Right.

Then we went over the homework assignment.
Serena helped me with the first few problems, and I understood
them—well, sort of. I understood them while Serena explained them.
I couldn’t seem to remember how I was supposed to do everything
when I tried some problems on my own. So we went back and worked on
some earlier stuff I hadn’t understood, and it finally made sense.
As we finished, I said, “Thanks. I should have crashed into you
during PE a long time ago.”

Serena picked up a piece of popcorn and threw
it at me. “I’ve sat here bored to death for two days, and you’re
happy.”

I picked up the popcorn, threw it up in the
air, and caught it in my mouth. “You don’t have to just sit here.
Go outside. The weather is great.”

She tilted her head to one side. “What am I
supposed to do outside? Limp around?”

“There are sports you can play with only one
foot.” I couldn’t think of any, so I made some up. “There’s hopping
basketball, and of course crawling baseball, or you could try a
really short game of soccer.”

Serena threw another piece of popcorn at
me.

“You’ve got a pretty good arm. I bet we could
play a game of catch.” I took a look around the room. “Do you have
a ball somewhere?”

She blinked at me, realizing I was serious.
“I don’t want to play catch. I’m lousy at sports.”

“That’s perfect. I’ll help you become a great
athlete to repay you for helping me with math.”

“You have to move around to play catch.”

“No, you won’t. I’ll throw it right into your
lap.” She still didn’t look convinced so I added, “Softly. I’ll
throw the ball very softly because I would hate to send you to the
doctor’s again.”

In the end she gave in. Her mother helped her
onto the chaise lounge in the backyard, and she sat with her foot
propped up while I threw balls to her. At first she threw them
right back to me, but after awhile she threw them farther and
farther away. I ended up running and diving all over her backyard
while she sat there and laughed. I didn’t mind. Catching wild balls
was good practice for baseball; and besides, I liked to hear her
laugh.

“You’re almost as good at retrieving balls as
our dog,” she said.

“Yeah, but I bet your dog can’t bat as well
as I do.”

She nodded. “You’re a better batter.” Then
she giggled at herself. “How can you play a game that makes you
sound like cookie dough?”

“Baseball is great. As soon as your knee is
better, I’ll teach you how to hit, too.”

“All right,” she said. “As soon as my knee is
better.”

At that moment I liked Serena. It almost made
me sad to think that after I did better in math, I wouldn’t have a
reason to hang out with her anymore. Then I stopped feeling sad. I
was so bad at math, we’d be together for quite some time.

I was in a great mood until I got home and
walked into my room. Legos were strewn on the dresser, over the
beds, and from one end the floor to the other. I kicked through
them to put my backpack away, and then I went to find Kirk. He was
lying on the family room floor tying dishcloths to the legs of the
couch.

I stood over him and put my hands on my hips.
“Kirk, go pick up the mess in our room.”

He didn’t even look up at me. “I’m still
playing with it.”

“No, you’re not. You’re in here attacking the
furniture. Now go pick up our room.”

“I don’t have to, because you’re not the boss
of me.”

I nearly went and stepped on his dish towels
just to make him scream, but I didn’t want to get my parents mad at
me. Instead I followed the sound of my dad’s voice into the
kitchen. My mom was at the cutting board chopping up lettuce, and
Dad stood next to her cutting up tomatoes.

“This is just like sleeping,” he teased her.
“You take up all the room.”

She smiled over at him. “Lettuce is bigger
than tomatoes, and besides, you should never complain to a woman
who’s got a knife.”

I went over to them. “My room looks like a
Lego bomb went off inside it, and Kirk refuses to clean it up. When
are you moving him out?”

Mom sighed and pressed her knife through the
lettuce again. “I’ve got a bunch of transcriptions to do. I don’t
have time to move everything around.”

“I’ll help you,” I said. “In fact, I
volunteer to carry everything to your room.”

Another chop to the lettuce. “And then
there’s the matter of decorating. The office has those old pink
curtains and dirt marks all over the wall. It wouldn’t be fair to
make Kirk move out unless his room is just as nice as the room he
came from. I’ll need to buy paint, border, curtains, and a
comforter. Maybe a matching lamp . . . or some paneling. These
things take time.”

The humor went out of Dad’s voice. “These
things also take money. Exactly how much were you planning on
spending on all of this?”

Mom stopped chopping and looked over at him.
“Why do you always say things like that? It’s like you think I just
look for excuses to spend money. Do you think it’s fair to move
Kirk into a bare bedroom?”

“Fair doesn’t have anything to do with it. We
either have the money, or we don’t. We can’t buy things just
because we think it’s fair.”

Mom gave the lettuce a vicious slash. “You’re
only saying that because you don’t care about decorations, but Kirk
does.”

“You mean you care,” Dad said. “Kirk would be
just as happy if we let him take markers to the walls.”

Mom set her knife down on the cutting board a
little more forcefully than she needed to. “You know, if I wanted
someone to tell me how to use my money all of the time, I’d still
be living with my parents.” She turned and walked out of the
room.

Dad watched her go, took a deep breath, then
went back to chopping tomatoes. His mouth was set in a firm line.
His knife against the cutting board sounded harsh and crisp.

I stood rooted to the spot, watching my dad.
“It’s okay,” I said. “I guess I can live with Kirk for a while
longer.”

Dad picked up the cut tomatoes and dropped
them into a bowl. Then he picked up what was left of the lettuce
and chopped it. “I’m sure it won’t be much longer. Your mother will
find some irresistible little sports material somewhere, and then
she’ll be making curtains, comforters, and matching throw pillows.”
He grumbled something I couldn’t hear and then added, “and
tablecloths—and place mats.”

I started to leave the kitchen, but Dad
called me back. “McKay . . .”

I turned toward him, but he didn’t say
anything else for a moment. He just laid his knife down on the
cutting board. “Your mom works hard to make our home a nice place.
I didn’t mean any of what I just said.”

“I know.” Besides, I hadn’t understood half
of what he’d just said anyway.

Now he smiled at me. “You won’t have to worry
about money when you grow up because you’re going to graduate from
college and become a corporate executive, right?”

“Right.”

“How’s the homework coming?”

“Good.” For the first time this was true, and
I was determined to keep it that way. Suddenly I realized raising
my grade wasn’t just about baseball. It was about a future my
parents saw for me—a future where I didn’t have any of the problems
that kept troubling them.

Dad nodded. “That’s good. Go wash your hands.
Dinner is almost ready.”

I stopped in the bathroom and washed up, then
went into my bedroom and picked up the Legos. If the Legos were
gone, then the fights would be gone too. But, because I was still
mad at Kirk for making the mess, I put the bucket of Legos on the
very top shelf in the closet where he couldn’t reach it.

My parents didn’t talk much to each other
during dinner. Kirk happily took up the silence by describing the
difference between Pikachu and Raichu and which one would win if
they ever battled each other.

I was quiet too. I thought about money and
how much easier our lives would be if we had just a little more of
it.

I had tried, over the last few days, to sell
my school teachers reverse osmosis systems, but they turned out to
be considerably harder customers than Coach Manetti. My history,
PE, English, and computer teachers all insisted they already had
ROs. My science teacher said he enjoyed the flavor of microbes in
his water, and Mrs. Swenson just gave me a long stare and
sighed.

“Let me guess,” she said. “You don’t need to
worry about algebra anymore because now you’re going to grow up to
be a salesman, right?”

“No,” I said. “I just thought you’d enjoy the
fresh goodness of quality Hendricks water.”

She shook her head. “I’ll admit that a sales
job is a more realistic goal than a professional baseball career,
but nevertheless, you still have to pass algebra.” She glanced down
at the grade book on her desk. “You’re going to have to do very
well on the next unit test if you want to pull your grade up to a
C.”

“But micro organisms— ” I said.

“Please take your seat now,” she told me.

And I did.

Now I jabbed my fork into my salad and wished
I could make just one more sale—one more sale to someone who wanted
a reverse osmosis system now and not later—and then my dad would
see it was possible to make money through sales. Mom would have
some money to decorate Kirk’s room, and everyone would be
happy.

But who could I sell an RO to? The neighbors?
The bus driver? Strangers I met in the mall? I didn’t know a lot of
adults, and the ones I did, didn’t seem to want to take my advice
on the dangers of impure water.