Playing the Field

by Janette Rallison

  “Rachel and Anna are friends.”

  Tony got a big smile across his face. “I know, but I’m pretty sure Anna would go out with me anyway.”

  “Don’t you think Rachel would get mad at Anna if she went out with you?”

  Tony shrugged. “It’s not my fault Rachel is being mean and Anna is being nice. I didn’t tell Rachel to write this note. She’s practically already broken up with me. It would serve her right if I asked out her friend.”

  I pushed open the door, and we walked out into the cool evening air. “Tony,” I said, “I think it’s my duty as your best friend to tell you that you’re being a jerk.”

  Tony laughed like he thought I was joking. “Just because you date one girl doesn’t mean you can’t ever date any of her friends. Girls understand that. They do it too. It’s all part of the game—all part of playing the field. You’ll understand when you start dating.”

  I wanted to say, “Tony, now you’re being an even bigger jerk,” but I didn’t. He obviously thought he was the authority when it came to girls, and he wouldn’t listen to me anyway. Besides, maybe he was right. Maybe even as we stood in the school parking lot waiting for my parents to pick us up, Rachel and Anna were somewhere talking about Tony. They might be discussing trading him like baseball teams traded around players.

  Rachel was saying, “Okay, you can have Tony, but I get to borrow your new blue sweater whenever I want to.”

  “All right,” Anna answered. “But when I’m finished with Tony, I get my sweater back too.”

  Maybe dating in junior high was always like playing a game. You won by getting someone new to like you. Only I hated to think of it that way.

  Tony rubbed the back of his neck, still considering his dilemma. “Then again maybe I should try to work things out with Rachel. After all we have been going out for a few weeks. I don’t know. I guess I’ll call them both tomorrow and see who’s nicer to me.”

  I didn’t get the chance to comment on his methods of choosing a girlfriend, because my dad pulled up in his truck. But I did wonder, as I climbed into the front seat, if my dad had ever decided on a girlfriend by calling a couple girls to see who was nicest to him. I hoped not.

  Chapter 9

  The school confiscated cell phones if they saw them, so on Monday Serena and I were drafted into Tony and Rachel’s fight. Before we walked into math class, Serena slipped me a folded piece of notebook paper. With a serious expression on her face she said, “It’s from Rachel. Give it to Tony.”

  “All right,” I said. I handed it to Tony as I sat down in my desk. “It’s from Rachel.”

  He read it silently, then shook his head. “She’s so dramatic.”

  “I guess this means Anna was nicer to you on the phone.”

  “Yeah, I guess she was, but I still don’t know what I’ll do.” He shrugged as though it didn’t matter a whole lot to him and got out his books.

  I glanced over at Serena’s seat. She was watching Tony with the same serious expression she’d had when she talked to me.

  * * *

  After school, I waited for ten minutes before Serena showed up. I had almost decided she’d forgotten we were getting together to study when she walked out the door with her backpack.

  “Sorry I’m late,” she told me. “I was talking to Anna and Rachel.”

  “Oh.” I headed down the steps with her. We walked silently for a few moments. I could tell by the way Serena kept glancing over at me that she expected me to say something. I just wasn’t sure what.

  After a few more moments of her giving me “the glance,” I decided talking about anything would be better than walking all the way to her house in silence. “We’ve got game three of the tournament tomorrow,” I told her. “We play the team from Queen Creek. Their star pitcher just moved to California. Queen Creek’s loss—our gain. Coach Manetti says it should be an easy win.”

  Serena walked beside me, her gaze on the sidewalk.“Is he a good coach?”

  “He’s the best in the league.”

  “Is he nice, though?”

  This goes to show you what girls know about coaching. “He’s tough. That’s why he’s the best.”

  “Oh.” She looked contemplative. “I was wondering about Tony.”

  “Wondering what?”

  We had reached Serena’s house. As we went up the walk, she said, “I was wondering what kind of family Tony comes from.”

  I shrugged. “A normal family, I guess. Why?”

  “I just wonder why he acts the way he does.”

  I wasn’t sure what she was talking about. After all, she could have meant cocky, or sports-crazy, or a dozen other things that Tony frequently was. “Acts what way?” I asked.

  Serena shrugged and opened her front door. I followed her into the kitchen. We set our backpacks on the table, and I thought she’d finished with the subject of Tony, but while we got our books out, she said, “I don’t understand why a guy would simultaneously go after two girls who used to be best friends.”

  Now I understood. We were talking about that old Manetti charm. I sat down at the table and opened my book. “I don’t think Tony is actually going after Anna . . .”

  Serena opened her algebra book so hard the cover thunked against the table. “He called her on Saturday, and he talked to her today in the hallway. She said he was really nice.” Serena said the words really nice like it was a criminal offense.

  “Well, that’s probably because Anna was really nice to him first.”

  Serena gasped at this as though it were an accusation. “She was not.”

  “Yes, she was.”

  “How has she been nice?”

  “Well. . .” I was at a disadvantage in defending Tony. We’d only talked about Anna in a general sort of way, but it was clear Serena knew every detail of both of her friend’s love lives. “She looks at him,” I said. “A lot.”

  “She looks at him?”

  “Yeah, you know, the way girls look at a guy when they want to be noticed.”

  “She looks at him?” Serena repeated.

  “You’re a girl. You must know ‘the look.’”

  Serena’s eyes narrowed. This was not the look I had in mind. “Tony is not only a two-timing jerk, he’s an egotistical jerk too. He thinks just because a girl looks at him, she’s interested?”

  “Come on, you can’t tell me Anna isn’t interested in Tony.”

  “This isn’t Anna’s fault. Tony is just using her to get Rachel upset.”

  I leaned forward over my math book. “Anna was practically chasing Tony. If you’re going to be mad at him, you have to be mad at Anna too.”

  Serena shut her math book with a slam. “I don’t think I feel like studying algebra today.”

  “Or,” I said, “you can just be mad at me.” I picked up my book and shoved it into my backpack. Then I stood up so quickly that I nearly knocked over the chair. I was halfway across the kitchen when she called after me. “McKay, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to take it out on you.”

  She ran one hand across her hair and gave me a half shrug. “I know it’s not your fault Rachel and Anna are fighting. I mean, you didn’t tell Tony to go after both of them.” Then, a little less certainly, she added, “Did you?”

  “Like I could ever tell Tony what to do.”

  “Are we friends again?”

  “Sure.”

  She looked at me—and it was that girl look I was talking about earlier. “I still don’t want to study algebra.”

  “What do you want to do then?”

  She raised her shoulders, then relaxed them, but didn’t say anything.

  “Let’s go outside and play catch,” I suggested.

  “Don’t you ever think about anything besides baseball?”

  “Remember, I promised I’d help you learn to play, and this is the perfect time to practice.”

  She smiled, so I knew she didn’t mind catch so much after all. “All right, Coach, I’ll work on it.”

&nb
sp; We found an old tennis ball in the hall closet then went to her backyard. I instructed her on throwing balls overhand with proper form.

  “It feels funny,” she said as she flung the ball at me.

  I caught the ball with one hand. “You’ll get used to it. I mean, you don’t want to go through life throwing like a girl, do you?”

  “I am a girl.”

  “Really?” I tossed the ball back to her. “I hadn’t noticed.”

  “Yeah, I figured as much.” She nearly caught the ball, but it bounced from her hands onto the grass.

  “What’s that supposed to mean?” I asked.

  She picked up the ball and tossed it to me. “Nothing.”

  When a girl says, “Nothing,” it probably means something, but I wasn’t sure what.

  We threw the ball for a few more minutes and this time she caught them all.

  “See,” I told her, “it’s not so hard.”

  “Well, it’s not hard with you, but it’s a lot harder in PE when I’m playing an actual game, and the ball is coming toward me and everyone stares at me.”

  “They’re not staring at you, they’re staring at the ball.”

  “And everyone always moves up when I come to bat. It’s totally embarrassing.”

  “You’ll surprise everyone next game.”

  We played for a while longer and then Serena’s mom came outside. “I thought you two were supposed to be doing homework,” she said.

  So we went back inside and got out our books again. We ate chips and did the problems by ourselves, then checked our answers. We came up with different numbers for two of the problems so we reworked those together. It was basically Serena showing me where I’d messed up, but I understood it once she’d gone over it with me, so I felt good about it.

  “See,” she said. “Algebra isn’t so hard.”

  “Well, it’s not hard with you. It’s a lot harder in math class when I’m doing an actual problem and everyone is staring at me. Everyone looks up when I go to the chalk board. It’s totally embarrassing.”

  Serena picked up a chip and threw it at me, overhand, which just goes to show she was taking my throwing lessons to heart. We goofed off for a little while longer, then I told Serena I’d better go or my parents would get after me. She walked me to the door. Right before I left, I turned back to face her and gave her a studious look. “Hey,” I said, “You’re a girl.”

  She tilted her head at me in mock surprise. “You noticed.”

  “Yeah, I guess you could say I did.” I gave her a half wave and went out the door.

  I walked home slowly. For the first time in my life I thought that “No-dating-until-you’re-sixteen” rule was really stupid.

  I walked a while longer and wondered if Serena would understand if I asked her out on a date, but then told her she’d have to wait three years for me to come pick her up.

  Probably not.

  I supposed I could just bend that dating rule a little. I’d tell my parents I was going out with Tony, and wouldn’t mention I was also going to be with Serena and Rachel. Or Anna, depending on who Tony decided on. And we wouldn’t call it a date. We’d call it, “doing something with friends.” Certainly I could “do something with friends” before I was sixteen. That is, if my parents never found out about it.

  But then what came next? I couldn’t ask her out once and then never ask her out again. I’d have to think of other things to ask her to do with me. How many activities could I come up with that wouldn’t involve driving, that wouldn’t cost a lot of money, and that I’d be able to keep secret from my parents? I’d always been lousy at keeping things from my parents, and the thought of suddenly living a double life didn’t exactly appeal to me. It would involve a lot of creatively stretching the truth, a lot of tense and stressful moments, and most likely some really big punishment at the end.

  The best thing to do was to avoid all the stress and convince my parents I was old enough to do things with girls now. I just needed to reason with them. Reason would work. And flattery always helped.

  When I got home I found my mother in the office typing on the computer.

  I went and stood beside her desk. “Hi, Mom, I’m home.” I waited for a second and then added. “Your hair looks very nice today.”

  She eyed me suspiciously. “And I suppose my car is always very tidy too.”

  “Yes, in fact, it is.”

  Mom stopped typing. “Look McKay, I’m almost finished with Dr. Warren’s transcripts and then I’ll have time to think about moving the office. Until then you’ll just have to wait for privacy.”

  “I’m sure you’re doing your best.”

  “I’m glad you think so.” Mom went back to typing. I stood by and watched her for a moment. I tried to think of a logical, reasonable way to put forth my argument.

  “You know,” I said, “I think kids these days are a lot more mature than they were when you grew up.”

  Mom’s fingers continued to click away at the keyboard. “You do, do you?”

  “What with all of the technology, and TV programs, and computers—we grow up earlier.”

  “Uh-huh.” She still typed but her pace was getting slower, so I knew she was listening.

  “I guess it’s not surprising that teenagers have started dating earlier too.”

  “I guess not.”

  “So although that no-dating-until-you’re-sixteen rule was a good idea when you were young, it’s outdated for today’s kids, don’t you think?”

  Mom stopped typing and turned in her chair until she faced me. “No, I don’t. As you said, today’s kids have a lot of pressures, a lot of temptations, a lot of ‘life’ to deal with. The last thing you need is to deal with relationships on top of all of that. I think the no-dating-until-you’re-sixteen-rule is more important than ever.”

  I stared at her in surprise, then abandoned reason and said the first thing that came to my mind. “But all of the kids my age are going out.”

  Mom returned her attention to the keyboard. “Sometimes being different is good for you.”

  “It’s a stupid rule. Why do I have to wait until I’m sixteen?”

  “Because thirteen-year-olds aren’t mature enough to date.”

  I glared at her for a moment. “You don’t think I’m mature?”

  She didn’t answer.

  “You let me go over to Serena’s house to study. How come I’m mature enough to study with her but not mature enough to see a movie with her?”

  “Because one you do as a friend and the other you do as a boyfriend.”

  I threw up my hands. “Don’t you like Serena?”

  Mom stopped typing and turned towards me. “I barely even know Serena. That isn’t the point. If you want to be friends with a girl, that’s fine. If you want to study together, that’s even better. I hope you study with Serena all through college—it would do wonders for your grade-point average—but right now you’re not mature enough to pair off with girls. And that’s the end of the discussion.” Mom turned back to the computer and began typing again, quick and forcefully. Which meant the discussion was over.

  It wasn’t fair, but I knew if I said anything else it would just get me in trouble.

  I turned, walked from the room, and slammed the door behind me. As I went through the family room, I saw one of Kirk’s stuffed animals on the floor. With a swift kick, I hurled it into the kitchen. I didn’t see Dad standing in the hallway until he spoke. “Hey,” he said. “What is this slamming and kicking all about?”

  “Mom doesn’t think I’m mature!” I said, and stomped off to my room.

  Once there I lay on my bed, ripped out little pieces of paper from my science notebook, and threw them across the room.

  Of course my parents didn’t think I was mature. They probably still thought of me as eight years old. They made me share a room with my five-year-old brother. They didn’t believe me when I told them I’d sold a reverse osmosis. I’d done something even my dad hadn’t done, and
he wouldn’t even believe me about it. Of course they thought I was too young to date. They would always think I was too young to date.

  I took an extra-big wad of paper and hurled it at the mirror on my closet door.

  Just what were my parents afraid I was going to do if I went out with Serena anyway? Certainly they trusted me—did they not trust her? Maybe they thought girls were a bad influence. Hmm. It was enough to make me wonder what my mom had been like as a teenager.

  If my parents got to know Serena, they’d change their minds about everything. They’d see what a nice girl she was and realize nothing bad would happen if we went out. The next time Serena and I studied, I would invite her to my house and make sure my mother came in and talked to her. Once Mom got to know Serena, she’d want Serena around. And then it would be no trouble to convince my parents it was a good idea for Serena and I to go out.

  Then all I’d have to do was convince Serena of the same thing.

  Chapter 10

  The next day at school in between every period, I either delivered a note to Tony or took one from him to Serena for Rachel. Serena always wore a worried expression during all this note-passing like she found the whole thing very distressing.

  I had meant to ask her the first time I saw her if she wanted to come over to my house and study for the math test we were having on Thursday, but somehow I didn’t. I couldn’t.

  I knew it was silly. After all, Serena and I had studied together a lot, it shouldn’t have been hard to ask her to my house. Especially since I was considering asking her out. But every time I looked at her, the words got stuck in the back of my throat. What if she said no? What if she didn’t like me after all? What if she really had a thing for flying football players?

  After the third note, I finally got up my courage. As I handed her the latest “for Rachel” note, I said, “Are you ready for the algebra test?”

  Serena slipped the folded piece of paper into her notebook. “I think so.”

  “Do you want to study anyway?”