Chris smiled when he saw Gordie and I enter the ballpark. "Hey,
Gordo, what's up?"
Shrugging, he replied, "Ahh, not much. Toby here is being a real pain in the ass though."
"I am not!" I exclaimed. I sighed and looked to Chris for some back up. "I'm not a pain in the ass."
"It depends," Chris laughed good-naturedly. "What are you bitching about now?"
"She wants to play," Gordie answered for me. He squinted at Chris knowingly, the bright hot sun in his eyes. "Girls can't play baseball."
"Toby, you're a girl, you'd, like, fall and break your girly parts," Chris told me. He took off his hat and placed it on my head. "Take care of that for me."
Before I could protest, he and Gordie jogged out to the mound where Mark Russell and Tom Moore were picking teams. I grumbled to myself and sauntered to the dugout where I plopped down defeatedly.
Teddy Duchamp, this wild kid that Gordie said he used to hang out with, came and sat next to me at one point. His team was batting. "So, you're Gordie's cousin?"
I raised an eyebrow and looked at him out of the corner of my eye. "That's correct, congratulations. You're Teddy."
"Yeah."
"Gordie's an ass. I damn him." I was very angry with my cousin. I was set out to make it known that Gordie was stupid and sexist and I could play baseball as much as I damn well wanted to.
"He's alright, I guess," Teddy said. "Kind of a pussy."
Beginning to tire of this kid's company, I muttered, "He's not a pussy." I shrugged. "He's just mean to me. I want to play baseball. Girls CAN play baseball, you know."
He nodded. "Hey, why don't you play on my team? Tom wouldn't mind. He's a horny old toad, he'd love to watch a girl run."
Allowing myself to laugh, I agreed. "Sounds like a good plan. But you make sure that he doesn't slap me on the ass like he just did to that other guy that just got a home run."
Teddy slapped me on the back like I was an old friend, and he yelled down the bench to Tom, "Hey! Tommy! Gordie's cousin's on our team!"
"Whatever!" he shouted back.
"See, you're one of the guys now," Teddy assured me. "Tori?"
"Toby."
It turned out that I could play somewhat as well as the guys could, and that they did quite enjoy it when I ran (I often got cries of encouragement to steal bases). I was standing in left field when there was this butterfly that kept pissing me off.
"Come back here," I whispered. "I want to catch you. Hey! Come back!" I took my mind off the game, and set out to catch the butterfly, who I would have named Melvin if the world hadn't gone all black.
"Hey, she's waking up," someone said.
I opened my eyes and saw many faces. I had a headache the size of Kentucky and I felt like sleeping for a week.
"You okay?" Chris asked anxiously. "Toby? Are you okay?"
"Gah," I groaned, touching a bump on my forehead. "Who the fuck does Melvin think he is? Hitting me with a baseball…football, something, balls are bad."
"Holy shit, she's out of it," someone muttered.
"Toby, how many fingers am I holding up?" Chris held up a few fingers for me to count.
"She couldn't tell you that anyway," Gordie mumbled.
"How many?" Chris asked again, concern furrowing his brow.
"Uh, orange."
Gordie shook his head. "I am going to be in so much trouble." He offered me his hand and helped me get up. "Mom is going to kill me. I let my cousin get head trauma. Good God Toby, this is why I didn't want you to play."
"Those are real nice shoes," I told him, leaning against his shoulder.
"I'm gonna take her home and hide her from my mom," Gordie told everyone sadly.
Chris jogged to catch up with us. "I can take her, Gordo, you keep playing." He smiled. "She has my hat."
I stared at Chris; my mind still a little disoriented. "My head hurts."
"That's because you got hit in the head," he reminded me. "With a ball. Because you were talking to a butterfly, apparently."
"Were you friends with Teddy Duchamp too?" I asked suddenly.
"You don't like him, do you, Toby?" he asked. "I'll disown you if you do."
"You can't disown me," I corrected him with a laugh. "You'd have to own me in order to disown me." I grinned at his anxious face. "I don't like him. I think he may be a bit of an ass."
"He's a big ass."
"Why don't you like him?"
"I just told you, because he's a big ass."
I sighed and enunciated, "WHAT--DID--HE--DO--TO--BE--COME--AN--ASS?"
"Look at the pretty couple, Eyeball," Ace Merrill crowed, coming out of the pool hall and stopping right in our path.
Eyeball Chambers, Chris' older brother, looked us up and down and smiled in a parody of benevolence. "I've never seen a sweeter sight."
Chris stared at them angrily. "Come on, I just want to take her home, guys."
"This is getting interested, Eyeball," Ace said. "Please go into detail, Christopher. Gonna slip her the--"
"That's enough, Ace," Chris barked. "She got hit playing baseball, I'm taking her home."
I looked between Ace and Chris. The tension was sharp and crisp. I wasn't sure which one was going to snap, but it seemed inevitable that one would. Ace's face was filled with amusement, but I detected some respectful admiration at the same time in his eyes, like Chris had proven himself to him before. But when I looked at Chris' face, the loathing that tremored in his eyes was enough to make me look away.
Eyeball smirked at his little brother's expression, as if this were all a joke to him.
"Cross the street then," Ace challenged.
"No."
Raising my eyebrows, I peered closely at Chris. He looked so full of stubborn pride that I almost smiled, but I got woozy and didn't quite feel up to it.
"Okay." Ace shrugged and went to move around us, but shoved into me, and I sprawled into a parked car.
"Fuck your hand, Ace," Chris spat, helping me stand up straight. "You okay?" he asked me softly.
"Yeah, I'm fine," I murmured back, staring hard at Ace and Eyeball's backs as they walked away without a care in the world. "What the hell was all that about?"
"Are you sure you're okay, you look sick," he said, looking at me carefully.
"Don't change the subject." I started walking towards my house and he followed. "What were all the scary looks for?"
Shrugging nonchalantly, he kicked an empty tin can down the road. "Ace and his gang and me and my friends had a confrontation a few years ago."
"Yeah? That doesn't surprise me. Ace seems to get into a lot of confrontations, and so do you." I looked at him gently. "Not that you can really help your confrontations…they kinda find you."
"This one involved a knife, a gun and a dead kid." His voice sounded dead and he looked so old.
We reached where I lived, and I invited him in for awhile. Immediately, I went to the fridge and grabbed some frozen tater-tots to put on my goose egg. I sat down at the table with the tater-tots on my forehead and kicked out a chair for him. "Sit. Explain."
Shrugging, he replied, "Ahh, not much. Toby here is being a real pain in the ass though."
"I am not!" I exclaimed. I sighed and looked to Chris for some back up. "I'm not a pain in the ass."
"It depends," Chris laughed good-naturedly. "What are you bitching about now?"
"She wants to play," Gordie answered for me. He squinted at Chris knowingly, the bright hot sun in his eyes. "Girls can't play baseball."
"Toby, you're a girl, you'd, like, fall and break your girly parts," Chris told me. He took off his hat and placed it on my head. "Take care of that for me."
Before I could protest, he and Gordie jogged out to the mound where Mark Russell and Tom Moore were picking teams. I grumbled to myself and sauntered to the dugout where I plopped down defeatedly.
Teddy Duchamp, this wild kid that Gordie said he used to hang out with, came and sat next to me at one point. His team was batting. "So, you're Gordie's cousin?"
I raised an eyebrow and looked at him out of the corner of my eye. "That's correct, congratulations. You're Teddy."
"Yeah."
"Gordie's an ass. I damn him." I was very angry with my cousin. I was set out to make it known that Gordie was stupid and sexist and I could play baseball as much as I damn well wanted to.
"He's alright, I guess," Teddy said. "Kind of a pussy."
Beginning to tire of this kid's company, I muttered, "He's not a pussy." I shrugged. "He's just mean to me. I want to play baseball. Girls CAN play baseball, you know."
He nodded. "Hey, why don't you play on my team? Tom wouldn't mind. He's a horny old toad, he'd love to watch a girl run."
Allowing myself to laugh, I agreed. "Sounds like a good plan. But you make sure that he doesn't slap me on the ass like he just did to that other guy that just got a home run."
Teddy slapped me on the back like I was an old friend, and he yelled down the bench to Tom, "Hey! Tommy! Gordie's cousin's on our team!"
"Whatever!" he shouted back.
"See, you're one of the guys now," Teddy assured me. "Tori?"
"Toby."
It turned out that I could play somewhat as well as the guys could, and that they did quite enjoy it when I ran (I often got cries of encouragement to steal bases). I was standing in left field when there was this butterfly that kept pissing me off.
"Come back here," I whispered. "I want to catch you. Hey! Come back!" I took my mind off the game, and set out to catch the butterfly, who I would have named Melvin if the world hadn't gone all black.
"Hey, she's waking up," someone said.
I opened my eyes and saw many faces. I had a headache the size of Kentucky and I felt like sleeping for a week.
"You okay?" Chris asked anxiously. "Toby? Are you okay?"
"Gah," I groaned, touching a bump on my forehead. "Who the fuck does Melvin think he is? Hitting me with a baseball…football, something, balls are bad."
"Holy shit, she's out of it," someone muttered.
"Toby, how many fingers am I holding up?" Chris held up a few fingers for me to count.
"She couldn't tell you that anyway," Gordie mumbled.
"How many?" Chris asked again, concern furrowing his brow.
"Uh, orange."
Gordie shook his head. "I am going to be in so much trouble." He offered me his hand and helped me get up. "Mom is going to kill me. I let my cousin get head trauma. Good God Toby, this is why I didn't want you to play."
"Those are real nice shoes," I told him, leaning against his shoulder.
"I'm gonna take her home and hide her from my mom," Gordie told everyone sadly.
Chris jogged to catch up with us. "I can take her, Gordo, you keep playing." He smiled. "She has my hat."
I stared at Chris; my mind still a little disoriented. "My head hurts."
"That's because you got hit in the head," he reminded me. "With a ball. Because you were talking to a butterfly, apparently."
"Were you friends with Teddy Duchamp too?" I asked suddenly.
"You don't like him, do you, Toby?" he asked. "I'll disown you if you do."
"You can't disown me," I corrected him with a laugh. "You'd have to own me in order to disown me." I grinned at his anxious face. "I don't like him. I think he may be a bit of an ass."
"He's a big ass."
"Why don't you like him?"
"I just told you, because he's a big ass."
I sighed and enunciated, "WHAT--DID--HE--DO--TO--BE--COME--AN--ASS?"
"Look at the pretty couple, Eyeball," Ace Merrill crowed, coming out of the pool hall and stopping right in our path.
Eyeball Chambers, Chris' older brother, looked us up and down and smiled in a parody of benevolence. "I've never seen a sweeter sight."
Chris stared at them angrily. "Come on, I just want to take her home, guys."
"This is getting interested, Eyeball," Ace said. "Please go into detail, Christopher. Gonna slip her the--"
"That's enough, Ace," Chris barked. "She got hit playing baseball, I'm taking her home."
I looked between Ace and Chris. The tension was sharp and crisp. I wasn't sure which one was going to snap, but it seemed inevitable that one would. Ace's face was filled with amusement, but I detected some respectful admiration at the same time in his eyes, like Chris had proven himself to him before. But when I looked at Chris' face, the loathing that tremored in his eyes was enough to make me look away.
Eyeball smirked at his little brother's expression, as if this were all a joke to him.
"Cross the street then," Ace challenged.
"No."
Raising my eyebrows, I peered closely at Chris. He looked so full of stubborn pride that I almost smiled, but I got woozy and didn't quite feel up to it.
"Okay." Ace shrugged and went to move around us, but shoved into me, and I sprawled into a parked car.
"Fuck your hand, Ace," Chris spat, helping me stand up straight. "You okay?" he asked me softly.
"Yeah, I'm fine," I murmured back, staring hard at Ace and Eyeball's backs as they walked away without a care in the world. "What the hell was all that about?"
"Are you sure you're okay, you look sick," he said, looking at me carefully.
"Don't change the subject." I started walking towards my house and he followed. "What were all the scary looks for?"
Shrugging nonchalantly, he kicked an empty tin can down the road. "Ace and his gang and me and my friends had a confrontation a few years ago."
"Yeah? That doesn't surprise me. Ace seems to get into a lot of confrontations, and so do you." I looked at him gently. "Not that you can really help your confrontations…they kinda find you."
"This one involved a knife, a gun and a dead kid." His voice sounded dead and he looked so old.
We reached where I lived, and I invited him in for awhile. Immediately, I went to the fridge and grabbed some frozen tater-tots to put on my goose egg. I sat down at the table with the tater-tots on my forehead and kicked out a chair for him. "Sit. Explain."
