A Stitch in Time Pt. 07

"Thanks," she said, somewhat sullenly.

"Cameron," her mother said, "he asked you a question."

Cammie looked over at me and grinned a bit.

"Grades," she said. "I have a horrible lab partner this year in Astronomy, and I have to do twice as much work."

"Oh, dear," Mrs. Rowe said. "How come you never mentioned this before? I would have spoken to Mrs. Sparks on the school board."

"I worked it out, Mom," she told her mother with a wicked smile that was solely for my benefit.

"Okay," Mrs. Rowe said doubtfully. "So how was the game, Trick?"

"One to nothing," I said. "Hammerin' Tommy Narburg homered. That boy's doing something right. How did you know we had a game, Mrs. Rowe?"

"Well, Cammie told me, of course," she said.

She turned back to her daughter, who suddenly noticed Tanya and Rabbit walking up the aisle and insisted that they join us. Tanya claimed the seat next to me and gave me a peck on the cheek.

"Isn't it neat?" she leaned forward to speak to Cammie and her mother.

"What?" Cammie asked.

"Patrick," Tanya squeezed my arm. "His perfect game."

"A perfect game?" Mrs. Rowe said. "What's a perfect game?"

"It's just like an A-plus," I smiled at her. "Sort of like what Cammie's gonna get in Astronomy despite her lab partner."

The lights went down just then, preventing me from seeing Cammie stick her tongue out at me. But I knew she had done it. If her mother hadn't been there, she would have called me an asshole, too.

Jill was excellent as Liesl, although the completely natural way in which she claimed to be "Sixteen, Going on Seventeen" gave me pause. She wouldn't even be going on sixteen until next Friday night. And yet as wonderful as Jill was, she came nowhere near matching Jeanne for the sheer effervescence of her performance. Jeanne sang like she was truly happy, and knowing her as I did, I was quite sure that she was.

I drove them both home after the performance, and they never stopped singing the entire way home. Fortunately, nobody wanted to wake Sarah or Tiffany up, so my time at home was blessedly quiet.

On Saturday I found myself in the mall. Ostensibly I was there to get something for Tanya, something that said "you're okay, kid," without saying "let's hit the sack." She had given me back my friendship ring on Friday. Rabbit hadn't actually said anything, but she could tell that it made him uncomfortable for her to be wearing it, so she wanted me to have it back. I took it back to the jewelry store, and they were more than happy to give me half of what I had paid for it.

As I walked the mall, though, I found it nearly impossible to pick something new out for Tanya. Because everything I looked at caused the same questions to pop up in my mind. I wonder how Cammie would look in this? I wonder if Cammie would like this?

Finally, feeling a little bit dizzy, I sat down on one of the benches in the center of the mall. The one, it was true, with the view of the Victoria's Secret store. Maybe I should just go ahead and get the castration over with. I saw this, Cammie, and I thought of you.

I was actually starting to feel a little bit better. I was a little distracted, though, by a brunette who was standing with her back to me looking in the window at a tan bra and panty set. From the back, it appeared to me that she had the perfect figure to make it work. Tall with very nice curves, and very long auburn hair. I watched her look at it for a while, and then start to walk away. And then she stopped and stood in front of it again. And then she took five steps away. And then she walked back. And then she turned around, and I burst into laughter.

"And just what is so funny, Mister Sterling?" Rachel Carter demanded, having covered the ground between us in a few short strides. She stood there, her arms crossed in front of her chest. "You think I would look funny in that outfit?"

"No, ma'am," I said, suddenly sober again. "I think you would look incredible. It was your indecision I found, um, humorous."

She tapped her foot on the ground, looking back at the store window over her shoulder.

"So you gonna buy it or are you just gonna stare?"

She looked back at me, her face a bright pink.

"'Cause I think it would look pretty darn nice," I added.

She was now almost red.

"I'm thinking I should start dating again," she said, suddenly wheeling around and sitting beside me on the bench. "It's hard."

"I'm sure it is," I nodded.

We spent the next hour sitting there while she told me the story about her fiancée. We cried, we laughed, we held hands together. It was particularly poignant when she explained that he had been a graduate student at the University of Virginia. That, she explained, was why she had been so willing to help me when I had wandered into the office on the day after Christmas.

And then, very shyly, she turned to me and asked if I would like to have dinner with her, at her house. I looked into her eyes, trying to make sure that I knew what she was asking.

She leaned into me, her eyes dancing now.

"'Cause I think we could have a lot of fun together."

I just smiled at her as she traced a finger along my arm.

"I would, and I wouldn't," I finally said.

She looked a little disappointed.

"The old Trick, the one that did Ms. Torianni and all those other girls in the high school and elsewhere," I said, "he would have done you in a minute. The new Trick is a little different. The new Trick is the one that you danced with, the one that you celebrated his SAT score with."

"That's the Trick I like," she said quietly.

"Yeah, and that's the Trick that now wants love to go with his sex," I smiled. "And I do love you, Rachel Carter, just not like that."

"I heard you broke up with your girlfriend last weekend," she put a hand on my knee in sympathy.

"Yes and no. She wasn't really a girlfriend, so we didn't really break up. But it did hurt. I don't think I really did love her."

"That's too bad," she murmured.

"On the other hand, I am in love now."

"Already?" she giggled. "You're a very fast worker, Patrick Sterling."

"Well, she doesn't love me, but I'm working on that."

"How can she not love you?" she took my side immediately.

"Who knows? Women. Still, what I would like to do, Rachel Carter, is to take you to the dinner I owe you, and then to the theater."

"The theater?" she laughed.

"The Sound of Music," I told her. "Starring Jeanne Sterling and Jill Sterling. This will be my third night, so if I start singing along, just elbow me in the ribs. Shall I pick you up at six for dinner?"

"That would be very lovely," she said, kissing me on the cheek. Then she got up and walked into the Victoria's Secret store with just the tiniest look back over her shoulder. She'd be wearing them, too, the bitch.

Heads turned as we entered the auditorium. I was dressed in my best suit, a freshly pressed shirt, and a nice, conservative tie. Rachel Carter wore a flower print dress that swished back and forth around her beautiful legs as she walked. She held my arm as we walked down the aisle and found two seats. We had enjoyed a very nice dinner at the town's best Italian restaurant, and I had happily given her the other ten-dollar show ticket that I had bought when I thought I would be attending with Tanya. It was another incredible performance, and when Jeanne took her bows, the last of the year in her starring role, she found me in the audience and waved. I waved back. And then I watched her being applauded.

There is a prayer that goes something like, "God grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change, the courage to change the things I can, and the wisdom to know the difference." In church the following day, I asked God to give me a prize. I didn't care what, a plaque or a nice trophy or something. I had turned down Rachel Carter. From any objective point of view, that didn't require serenity, courage, or wisdom. Most guys would consider it rank stupidity.

Chapter 26

The news that I wasn't going to get the grades I needed to be admitted to the University of Virginia was just sort of slipped into the middle of the week, like a piece of paper you find in a book that you picked up in the library. On Monday, we had another quiz in Astronomy, and I was stoked when I handed it in. As far as I could tell, I nailed every question on it. Cammie was happy, too. We were both pleased. Until lunch, anyway.

"Do you know any sports couples?" Jeanne was looking around the cafeteria as she threw the question out for discussion by the table.

"I'm not sure I even know what a sports couple is," I said doubtfully.

"It's a couple where both the guy and the girl lettered in sports," Jeanne said, turning back to us with a frown. Apparently she had been unable to locate any.

"First of all, no," I said. "And second of all, why?"

"Because the sports banquet is next Saturday," she said.

I actually knew that, because Coach had said that he would pass out tickets after the game today. I didn't see how that answered the question, though, and apparently my confusion showed on my face.

"Oh, you remember," Jeanne said to cover up the fact that I didn't. "All the athletes get one ticket, and they each get to bring a guest. Last year, Rabbit went with Cammie, so he gave me his ticket so Jill and I could go. Of course, that's where Jill met Andy. Who are you going with, anyway?"

"I don't know. I was thinking of Mrs. Jenkins."

The whole table turned to look at me.

"Our Sunday school teacher?" Jeanne asked incredulously.

"Yeah. She's also my Religion teacher. I thought it would be fun. You know. People would talk. But our final's that week so she might think I was sucking up. You can come with me."

"I was kind of hoping to go with Sammy," Jeanne blushed. "Jill will be going with Tommy, I assume."

We all looked over at Tommy, whose face still hadn't lost its stupid expression. Like me, he had been to the play each night last weekend. And then he had accompanied Jill to the cast party.

"And I assume Rabbit's taking Tanya," Jeanne said as the two lovebirds gave each other sickening smiles. "Who are you going with, Cam?"

"Nobody," Cammie said. "I'd give you my ticket but Liz said I had to show up."

"Well, sure. You have to dance with Trick."

Cammie flashed me a look that said she would rather dance with a fish.

"Wait a minute," Jeanne was getting excited. "Maybe you could —"

"No," Cammie said.

"You haven't even heard it," Jeanne protested.

"Maybe I could go with Trick. No."

"Trick wouldn't mind, would you?"

"No," I grinned. "People would talk even more about that."

Cammie glared at me. I smiled back.

"Oh, please?" Jeanne looked at her friend.

"You can come with me," Cammie said. "And Sammy can go with Trick."

"No. That kind of talk I don't need," I shook my head.

"Besides," Jeanne said earnestly. "I'd still end up sitting next to Sammy and you'd end up sitting next to Trick. You know you're gonna have to dance with him. 'Cause you know you're both going to be athletes of the year again."

I smiled again. Cammie glared again. She looked back at Jeanne.

"I'll think about it," she sighed.

"Thanks," Jeanne said. She turned to me and, out of Cammie's sight, gave me a big wink. It was all I could do not to laugh. I wondered if she really wanted to go to the banquet at all. I was a very lucky brother.

Tuesday afternoon was our rematch against McKay Academy for the league championship. It had been hard beating them once, and harder beating them twice. Nobody had any real illusions about the third time being the charm. And the news the Coach gave us after we had boarded the bus didn't help our confidence. Cary had stepped on a nail over the weekend and was going to be lost for the rest of the season.

By my calculations, that was maybe three hours away. A half hour bus ride, half an hour to change, and a two-hour game that either Donnie or Steve would be pitching. Season over.

That didn't stop us from having fun, though. Carl Thomason was pretty much the last guy on the team. He would pinch hit and play left field if the game was completely out of control. He had apparently spent his time watching all the rest of us, and decided that this was the time to show off his impersonations. There were guys rolling in the aisle when he did Coach. He saved me for the very end, standing up in front of the bus as it rolled to a stop in front of McKay Academy.

"All right, men. Remember, this is a team game. And we're a team. You can tell that because we all wear the same uniform. Except me, mine has a "C." And a different number, of course. Anyway, we win as a team, we lose as a team, we eat as a team, and we crap as a team. But we're a team. Even if you are doing my girlfriend, Jo-el. Now, men, we have to remember this is a game with rules. Lots of rules. Don't try to remember them all. It'll just give you a headache. Just remember that with men on first and third and less than one out or more than one out, but not one out, a ball hit to the shortstop means that the man on third has to click his heels together three times and say, out loud, 'there's no place like home, there's no place like home.' And then you'll be home. And that's good for us. So are you ready, men? Who's with me? Let's goooooo."

We all followed Carl off the bus, screaming at the tops of our voices. The McKay Academy team was already walking out to the field, and the sight of twenty screaming guys wearing ties was no doubt a little unnerving.

It was apparently unnerving enough that their pitcher hung a curve to Mo in the top of the first, letting him drive in Bobby from first with a two-run homer. And that only further set him off. In the fourth, he left a fastball out over the plate, and I crushed it. It barely missed a Volvo in the parking lot beyond the left field fence.

Donnie, meanwhile, was throwing the most effective junk of his life. Having prepared for Cary's curve and my fastball, the McKay hitters had no idea what to do with a fastball that came in as slowly as Donnie's did, or a slider that always threatened to break across the plate but never quite made it. They got their hits, but never enough of them in a row to do any real damage to us. By the end of the fifth inning, we were ahead 5-2, and the McKay coach was getting worried.

Our coach was getting worried, too, although for a different reason. Donnie was done by the top of the sixth, walking the first batter on four straight pitches. That left it up to Steve, and his first pitch, to my old friend Paul Bunyan, came down in the next county. After that, the other guys were starting to look worried as well.

"Matt!" I screamed from right field.

He looked out at me, and I motioned toward the mound. He pointed at the pitcher and raised his eyebrows, and I motioned again, doing my best to scowl at him. Matt obediently strolled to the mound to have a word with Steve. As far as I know, Matt had been to the mound only three times that season, and I was hoping that he would remember the last time and not the first or the second.

The next pitch was grounded to Rabbit. One out.

The next batter stroked a single to right field. I fired it into Eddie on second to keep him at first.

And the next batter hit into a textbook 5-4-3 double play. Third to second to first. Denton to Cooper to Perra. One more inning to go. We were clinging to a 5-4 lead.

Coach sat down next to me while Eddie was hitting and asked me quietly if I could pitch the last.

I looked at him and gave him a grin.

"Nah," I said, in as loud a voice I could. "Steve'll finish it off."

He returned my grin.

"Hear that, Manzilla?" he yelled toward Steve. "Sterling wants you out there rather than him."

Steve's eyes grew wide. Eddie finished striking out to end the inning. I ran past Steve and clapped him on the shoulder. And he struck out the side. None of us could believe it either. We stood there in the field while Steve and Tommy started celebrating our second consecutive league championship all by themselves. Finally we wised up. And then we all started running toward them.

Mr. Carruthers returned my astronomy lab notebook on Wednesday morning. Cammie, sitting next to me, looked over at it and gave me a smile.

"A-minus. Good job, Trick."

I was numb, sitting there in a sort of hazy fog. Finally, though, I managed to stammer out a "yeah," as I glanced over at Cammie's A-plus.

"Hey, I'm the scientist," she said breezily. "Speaking of which, are you busy on Saturday night?"

"Huh?"

"I'm was going to borrow a telescope and make a few last observations," she said, looking at me out of the corner of her eye. "I need somebody there to help."

"Somebody?"

"All right, you. I need you. You're my frickin' lab partner, and you already know my whole system. Happy?"

She gave me a look that managed to convey more emotions that I would have thought possible: a dare for me to say no; her ambivalence about asking me in the first place; and there, in the back of her eyes, maybe just a tiny bit of hope that I'd agree. Of course I would.

"I'd be a little happier if you'd talk to me now and then, instead of pretending like I didn't sit next to you in class or at the same table at lunch."

"I'm sorry. It's just —"

Mr. Carruthers had finished passing back the lab books and begun his lecture. So I never got to find out what it was that was just —.

I continued through the rest of the week in a kind of numb disbelief. I had been focusing on my grades for the last five months. Now, with a B-plus average on the quizzes and an A-minus on the lab book, there was no way I was going to get an A-plus in astronomy. And without that, there was no way I was going to get into the University of Virginia.

I found, though, that I couldn't help but keep working. I was spending my evenings with Moby Dick opened in front of me, trying to glean its origin, if any, in Melville's childhood illness. UVA or not, I was just as much a nerd now as I had been in ninth grade.

On Saturday, I settled in at the public library to do my first draft. I was working hard enough that I didn't realize that the library had closed for lunch until Lynn Edwards pulled out the chair across the table from me.

"Hey," she said softly.

"Oh, hi. Sorry. I guess I was concentrating a little too hard, huh?"

"You remind me of the old Trick," she giggled. "The one who used to come here and bury his nose in his books."

"Yeah, me, too."

She reached out and traced her fingers lightly across my hand.

"Of course, the new Trick was fun, too."

I froze in place.

"But I thought you and, um, Bob were going out."

"We were. Not any more. I'm leaving."

"Leaving?"

"I'm going to New York City. This Friday. I was going to call you today to tell you and here you are. You know, I've always wanted to be a writer, and I just decided if I don't give it a try now, I'm never going to. I just need to get away for a while and concentrate on writing, and one of my college roommates has an opening in her apartment."

"Wow."

"Bob has his life here. He's going to make partner next year. It was good, but we were never going to be together forever."

"Sorry."

"I'm not. I had a blast. Thank you, Trick."

"Sure."

"So do you, um, want to say goodbye?"

She batted those big eyelashes at me. I reached for my wallet and opened it up.

"You know, I do have a condom," I pulled it out.

She blanched. It had been nearly five months since she had told me that if I ever showed up with a condom she'd let me fuck her in the ass, but she remembered it just as clearly as I did.

"Trick, I, um..."

"That's okay. I think I'd rather say goodbye just like this."

"Just like what?"

"Just sitting across from you here, having you tell me about your dream of becoming a writer."