A Thousand Points to Swifty Li
By Princess MacEaver
Around November it really started to get cold. During the afternoons, though, it was still warm enough to hang around outside, so long as you dressed for it. On afternoons like that, with the air cold but the sun baking the ground, you can usually find me hanging around with the guys by the docks, or tossing a ball in the park. Where this story begins, I was doing the latter: just messing around and enjoying the last of the good weather with my pals Jake and Skittery. Soon, though, things got boring and I had to do what I could to make things more interesting.
I swipe the ball from Jake's hands. "Li steals the ball!" I yell, taking it upon myself to provide the play-by-play. Li's me. Simon Li, known here as Swifty. And not for no good reason—as Skittery and Jake both jump at me to grab the ball back, I leave them in the dust.
"He fakes to the left, he fakes to the right," I rattle on. Man, I'm not even breathing hard. I toss the ball over a tree branch and catch it on the other side. "Beautiful one-man maneuver by Li. Two points."
"Man, what are you doing?" Skittery gasps.
I laugh and pass by him before he even realizes I've switched direction. I'm making this all up as I go along; now I start to bounce the ball with every step and I'm still outdistancing them. "Li passes—Li intercepts—cross-court to Li again," I say, tossing the ball to myself and back with some fancy footwork. Just when they've almost caught up with me, I take off running for real again.
"You're crazy!" Skittery yells after me, and I snatch a look over my shoulder to see Jake giving in, breathing hard with his hands on his knees.
"Hey, that's no fun!" I say, spinning around to come back, doing my crazy bouncing thing again. "Foul on Jake for being a spoilsport." I come close enough to bounce the ball off his head.
"Ow, man!" he protests, trying to grab at the ball, which I've already caught again. Skittery's caught up with me and now proceeds to wrestle me for it.
"Attaboy, Skittery!" I crow approvingly. I let him get the ball just to see what he'll do with it.
Once he's got it, he stands there gulping for breath and holding it in his hands.
"Well?" I ask, shoving my hair back under my hat. I know he can see the challenge in my eyes.
"What?" Jake says. "Just hand it over, Skittery."
Skittery's eyes dart from me to Jake and then back. Something glints in them and I know I've got him. "Greene's got possession," he says, taking a few steps back. "Pass-in to Greene, and the ball's in play!"
"Guys!" Jake groans behind us, but we take off running.
It's all good fun that takes us dodging old ladies and tree stumps all around the park. I've got the ball again and I take the game into a whole new dimension by scampering up a tree, Skittery right at my heels. "Li takes it high," I start to say, then someone on the path catches my eye. I fall silent and the other two stop where they are.
"Swifty?" Jake asks from below, peering up at me through the bare branches.
I yank my hat off, wipe the sweat from my forehead, and drop to the ground beside him. Skittery slides down from the tree, sees where I'm looking, and shakes his head.
"Oh no you don't, Swifty," he says. "You know she's Spot Conlon's girl."
But Maverick's seen us, and she starts to wave excitedly. I pull my hat back on and grin at the other two.
"Swifty…" Jake starts to say, but I toss the ball at him so hard he cuts off with an "oof," and I jog up to meet her.
"Swifty!" she says, twirling her parasol and letting me kiss her hand like she's some kind of real lady. "Just who I wanted to see."
"Oh really?" I ask, and then remember my niceties. "You're looking well, Maverick."
"You think so?" she says, smiling coyly and swishing the hem of her skirt. "I do try." She is playing such the flirt, but by now Jake and Skittery have joined us, and Skittery's clearing his throat to remind me this is Spot's girl. She sees them and greets them both by name with a nod. She may be seeing the Brooklyn leader, but Maverick grew up around all us Manhattan boys.
"Anyway, you were saying?" I prompt her.
"Oh right—wanted to see you. I had something to give to Spot, but I can't make it out to Brooklyn this week, and thought since you go there as often as you do, to see Socksie and all…"
I know Maverick's heard several times that I stopped seeing Socks over a month ago, but things have a way of slipping her mind. I don't get to remind her, though, because she's already pushing a small package into my hands.
"What is it?" I ask, pushing aside the white paper to try to get a look.
"He'll know what it means," she says. "Now I have to be going…" She flips her red hair over her shoulder and smiles. "Lucky I ran into you, Swifty. Goodbye boys." I forget the package momentarily as I watch her sway away down the path. Damn, but that girl looks good.
"What is it?" Jake asks.
"Dunno," I say, pulling off the white paper to see what I'm delivering. "Oh, shit," I say then. "It's his key."
"His key?" They both try to get a closer look, and I start to feel a little sick. Of course Spot's going to know what it means. Everybody knows what it means. When a girl's wearing Spot's precious mystery key, you know he's got it bad for her. And when the key's back around its owner's neck—well, Spot's single again.
"Tough luck, man," Skittery says, and Jake puts it more bluntly.
"You are so dead, Swifty."
We all know I face a serious case of shooting the messenger. Especially since Spot's roughed me up once or twice before for 'looking at his girl'. Like I can really help it when she's always prancing around in front of me like she does, brushing up against me anytime she passes and wearing those skirts that cling to her hips juuust right.
We stare at the key a minute, trying to figure out how to get me out of this mess.
"You could throw it in the lake," Jake suggests. "Right here, right now."
Skittery knocks him so hard his derby flies off. "And have Maverick tell Spot Swifty's the one who lost it? Then he's really dead."
"Just an idea," Jake mumbles, dusting his hat off before jamming it back on his head.
"You could mail it to him, maybe?" Skittery says after a long silence.
Jake is quick to shoot down Skittery's idea. "And what does he do if the post office loses it, huh?"
"I suffer a terrible death at the hands of the big, bad Spot Conlon," I answer woefully.
"Well, sorry my man," Skittery says, clapping me on the back, "but it looks like there's nothing for it but a good old-fashioned in-person delivery."
"Are you a praying man?" Jake asks, looking at me seriously, "because if not, now would be a good time to start."
"Here's an idea," I say. "Why don't one of you do the noble thing and offer to take it off my hands?" After all, they've never been seen as objects of Maverick's wandering affections.
They both visibly shrink away from the key.
"Bad idea, Swifty."
"Definitely a bad idea."
I glower at the key a moment longer. All this trouble, from one hunk of metal on a string. I drop it into my jacket pocket resignedly. "Fine," I say. "But you two are coming with me."