Tell Me if the Lovers Are Losers

by Cynthia Voigt

  “I did play,” Hildy said.

  “When can we learn to spike?” Trudy asked.

  Carol’s eyebrows raised. “Ten years? Maybe eight.”

  “Next week, I think,” Hildy said. “It’s soon, but I think that’s the way we’ll do it. Don’t you, Carol?”

  “If you say so.” Carol was unconcerned. “It’s your problem.”

  They gathered up sweaters and jackets and said good-bye to the instructor Outside the heavy gym doors, the evening was turning violet and crisply cool. “It’s Thursday the next practice, isn’t it?” Hildy said. “Shall we do it the same way?” Murmurs of agreement sounded.

  Niki turned to Ann: “Stick around. I’ll show you how to spike.”

  “Now?”

  “We’ve got an hour ’til dinner. You could begin. You’re coordinated enough.”

  “I’d like that,” Ann said, surprised at Niki, surprised at herself. “I’ve only got Greek for tomorrow, and that philosophy reading. What about you, Hildy?”

  “No. I must study.”

  “If I may, I think I would like to stay on a little,” Eloise said.

  “Who’re you?” demanded Niki.

  “Eloise Golding. Niki Jones,” Ann introduced them.

  “Another preppie,” Nike said.

  Eloise could make her face expressionless, more bland and square even than ordinarily. Ann had observed this and, for a second, despised Eloise and wished she would leave them. Then she despised herself. And Niki.

  “I’ve got to go, I remembered,” Eloise said.

  “Stay anyway. What the hell,” Niki said. “We’ll need three people. You can fetch.”

  Eloise hesitated.

  “C’mon!” Niki was impatient. “First you say you do and then you say you can’t. What is it with you?” Eloise plodded back into the gym.

  Niki showed Ann how to jump, revolve her body, and bring her hand down. She passed some balls to Ann, who attacked them. Sometimes Ann connected, sometimes she missed, sometimes she succeeded only in sending the ball weakly over the net. “It’s like serving,” Niki finally said. “You can do better than this.”

  “No, I can’t.”

  “Then you can set for me.” Niki was not interested in Ann’s frustration.

  “No thanks. I’ll fetch. Eloise, do you want to set or go?”

  Eloise agreed to try setting. Ann passed the ball over the net, to Eloise. Eloise hit it up, a low, floating curve; Niki pounded it into Ann’s court. Ann gave up lunging for it after two tries, and just ran after it. They did this many times.

  “I’m going to shower now,” Niki said. “Thanks, Eloise.”

  Eloise nodded.

  Ann joined Eloise. Unthinking, Eloise sent the ball up into the air and Ann, recognizing it as an easy shot, spiked it. Her spike was the best she had yet done.

  “Hey,” Ann said. “Can you do that again?”

  Eloise fetched the ball and repeated her shot. The ball came down at another point of the net, but it was where Ann could comfortably approach it and bring her fist down on it. They did this several times before Ann said, “Eloise, you’re good at this. No, I mean it. You put the ball consistently into the right place. Spiking’s like serving, where if you don’t have the toss right, you can’t serve well. Eloise, you’re a secret weapon.”

  Eloise nodded solemnly. “I thought I might be,” she said. “Or rather, I hoped I might. It seems quite simple to execute this shot properly. For me, so far, it’s the only simple aspect of the game. However, it’s dinnertime and I’ve got to get back to my dormitory. See you?”

  “See you,” Ann answered. “No—wait, I’ll walk with you.” She had a sudden mental glimpse of Eloise—standing aside, wondering if she did have this talent, silently examining the question. She had a sudden question in her mind about the nature of this unobtrusive, disciplined person; a question that blew across her mind like a cool, refreshing breeze.

  In the darkness of the short walk, unable to see Eloise’s face, she said, “Niki is—” but could not think of how to finish the sentence.

  “I think I am beginning to understand,” Eloise said, cutting off Ann’s apology.

  “And how are your roommates?” Ann asked.

  “They’re fine I guess,” she answered. “I don’t see them very often.”

  Directly after supper, Hildy left to walk up to the observatory. By the next day, Ann had forgotten that she wanted to speak to Hildy about Eloise’s talent. But she did remember to look up Eloise’s contribution to the freshman magazine. Eloise had submitted one of a dozen short essays they had been required to write for Problems of American Democracy. The teacher had called these essays legal opinion papers and required them to be written in a certain form, to present both sides of the argument. Eloise had chosen her paper on the Jones-Laughlin decision and had presented both sides of the argument with such clarity that Ann no longer felt sure that any decision was possible. She herself had come down strongly in favor of the unions’ right to organize. Her paper had been more impassioned, and better written; Eloise’s argument, on the other hand, seemed more careful, more thoughtful. More reliable, too, Ann thought. But she got from the writing no idea of what Eloise herself would have chosen to do, or of how she felt about the union-employer conflict. The essay showed nothing of the writer, gave nothing away about her prejudices, values, hopes; and in that careful impersonality it was, Ann decided, very like Eloise. Inexplicably, she both approved of that and was grateful for it.

  ♦ ♦ ♦

  For the next week the freshman volleyball class practiced with those divisions established the first day. It was all accomplished without benefit of instruction. Finally, at the end of the second week, Ann asked Hildy: “What about Miss Whatsherface. She never coaches us.”

  “She is angry,” Hildy said. The group of freshmen listened, above the noise of a coaching session on the other two courts.

  “Angry?” Niki asked. Hildy nodded.

  “At us? But why?” Sarah asked.

  Hildy shrugged, not looking at any of them.

  “Does it matter?” Niki said, at the last. Her eyes beamed mischief, and celebration. “We haven’t done anything, have we? My conscience is clear as a babe’s. So what the hell? Let her eat cake. Or something else.”

  They were able to drill together by then, although the beginners were still noticeably weaker players. Hildy had set up fairly equal teams, for the ladder she said, with one substitute for each team.

  “But you aren’t playing,” Sarah protested as she looked over the lists.

  “We can’t win without you,” Niki said.

  “Win?” Hildy asked. “But there are four teams—”

  “The ladder,” Niki interrupted. “Have you all forgotten? Didn’t you see how it could work? With a good team, we could challenge the sophomores. If we took the best players: me, Hildy, Sarah, Carol, Bess. We could—our class—show everybody.”

  “Show what?” asked Hildy.

  Niki made an exasperated noise. She chewed her nails for a minute. “Winning,” Niki said. “That. That’s why you play, isn’t it?”

  “What about the rest of us?” someone asked.

  “I don’t know, you’d keep playing with each other and that bottom sophomore team. We’d need two subs, probably.”

  “You’ve only got five on your prize team,” somebody else said.

  “I know,” Niki said.

  There was another silence. Faces were closed off, secretive. Niki’s dark and urgent face looked into Hildy’s unfocused eyes. At last Hildy answered: “It is time to begin. Let’s drill the overhead pass today.”

  “What about that?” Niki insisted.

  “Your team?”

  Niki nodded.

  “I don’t think so,” Hildy said, before turning to the others.

  “Why?” Niki pulled her around.

  “It is not the right way to play. Or even to win.”

  “Come off it, Hildy,” Niki argued. “There’s
no wrong way to win.”

  Hildy didn’t answer.

  “I think we should do it, and I’ll bet I’m not the only one,” Niki said.

  Hildy shook her head.

  “Who put you in charge anyway?” Niki demanded.

  “Let’s play,” Ann urged.

  “Not me. Not today.” Niki turned to go.

  Cutting was not permitted.

  “Niki,” Hildy protested, warned.

  “Tell them I’ve got my period,” Niki said. “Tell them I’m bleeding like a stuck pig.” She let the door crash behind her.

  Practice continued. At the end of it, Hildy called them together to announce another practice, Saturday afternoon, following lunch.

  “But why should we?” Bess wondered.

  “We are not yet good enough,” Hildy said.

  “I’m not going to be here,” Sarah said.

  Freshmen were not allowed to go on weekends for the first six weeks. Sarah blushed. “A day trip. I have a friend coming up.”

  “Bring him with you,” Hildy said. Everyone laughed. Hildy looked puzzled, momentarily, then as if she understood. “Well, and why not?” she asked.

  “I’ll try,” Sarah said, smiling. “But it’s bizarre.”

  So the practice was agreed on, to take place at the outdoor court if the weather was fair. Everyone agreed to attend. At least nobody said she wouldn’t be there. “I’ll talk to Niki,” Hildy said.

  “How about a Coke?” someone suggested. “Is anybody else thirsty?” Murmurs of agreement. They moved off, collective, but Hildy remained. Ann lingered: “Hildy?”

  “I can’t,” Hildy said. “You go ahead.”

  Ann repeated the request, with a hint of pleading, but Hildy was obdurate, so they left her behind.

  “What’s with her?” someone asked Ann. “She’s your roommate.”

  “I don’t know,” Ann said. “She works hard, all the time.”

  “My God, they’re both your roommates.” Ann sighed.

  ♦ ♦ ♦

  The next Saturday was a mellow, golden day, the kind of day made to deceive flies into thinking spring has miraculously reappeared, against all ordinary limitations to things as they are. But, being fall, the day had lucid air, and colors were more brightly themselves, voices clearer, life more vivid; and in the evening chill the flies would die.

  Hildy and Ann were first to arrive at the volleyball court. “Is Niki coming?” Ann asked.

  “She wasn’t sure.”

  “She’ll be here,” Ann told herself. The uneasy relationship between her roommates was a puzzle to her, as her continuing helplessness in it was a frustration. She never knew when Niki’s temper would flare. Hildy paid little attention, so Ann followed her lead; but she would have preferred that they get along, that the relationship stabilize. They didn’t have to be friends. Sometimes it seemed as if they were friends, and then Niki would find another quarrel. Hildy, after that first day, hadn’t been angry, not that Ann could tell. The worst of it was, neither Niki nor Hildy seemed aware that they weren’t getting along.

  “I think she’ll come,” Hildy said. “She finds people disappointing. And difficult.”

  “I’d have said she’s the one who gives everyone a hard time.”

  “You would be wrong to say that,” announced Hildy.

  Eloise arrived, announcing her intention of only watching. “I never have enjoyed playing in games,” she demurred. Which reminded Ann to tell Hildy that Eloise could set. Hildy nodded her head and said no more. Bess arrived, jogging. She jogged everywhere, “Not to build muscles but to keep ahead of fat,” she said. Ruth joined Eloise, without saying anything. Five minutes later, Sarah strode in. She began batting the ball over the net to Hildy, and gradually the others joined her, all but Eloise. They waited another ten minutes.

  Then Sarah said, “I guess that’s all. I guess that won’t work.”

  “What won’t work?” Ruth asked.

  “Being better than you’re expected to be. Much better Making ourselves into genuinely good players. We can’t do it in three hours a week. Can we, Hildy?”

  Ann was stunned to find herself a member of that group of players Sarah spoke of.

  “No. That wouldn’t be possible,” Hildy agreed.

  Ann surprised herself by wanting to be included, even though she knew she would never be a really good player.

  “We don’t even have one team here,” Sarah said.

  “What about Eloise?” Bess asked. “Eloise? You’ve got to play.”

  “I really prefer not to,” Eloise said. “I don’t think I can,” she said. Ann sympathized with her and found herself admiring Eloise’s ability to stand up to pressure.

  “It doesn’t matter anyway,” Sarah said. “I’m going back. My friend was going to study, but he won’t have to now.” She picked up her sweater, hung it over a shoulder, and walked away.

  “Hey! Where you going?” Niki’s voice blared out over the quiet scene. “I’m here now.” Sarah ran back to the court. “Is this all that showed up?” Niki demanded of Hildy.

  “Who is that masked man?” Ruth asked Ann, sotto voce.

  Ann grinned at her.

  “Hildy? What did I tell you,” Niki demanded.

  “You were right,” Hildy said, as if it didn’t matter.

  “I know I was,” Niki answered, as if it did.

  They started to play, with three on each side. Eloise watched. Niki and Hildy, as always, were on opposing sides. There was more running than usual, and less care necessary for moving around teammates. It was a more rigorous game in that, but less rigorous in the control needed to play the courts well. Hildy divided her side into rectangular zones. Niki divided hers into triangular pieces, increasing the frequency with which she could spike.

  “It’s harder to play in these triangles,” Ann said, after a while.

  “What do you mean?”

  “Well it’s harder to run backward. You know that.”

  “Yeah?” Niki said.

  “Hildy has rectangles,” Ann offered.

  Niki considered this. She then cut a broad-based triangle from the front of the court and took it for herself. The rest of the space she divided into rough rectangles.

  These divisions did not last long, because the court gradually became filled, by girls who passed by and asked if they could join in. One at a time, Hildy took them onto her side and sent the freshmen over to play with Niki. “What’re you doing, Hildy!” Niki demanded. Then she seemed to understand something and patiently redivided her court. A sixth upperclassman came down the slope to ask if she could join in. Hildy crossed under the net. So that, when they began again, there was a mixed team and a freshman team. On the freshman team, Niki and Hildy both played, as well as Sarah and Bess, and Ruth and Ann.

  These games (they played two, both of which the freshmen won) were exhausting to Ann. There was the opposing team to consider, points to be wrested from across the net. Then there was some kind of opposition between Niki and Hildy. Both voices gave directions to the team. Niki’s orders were sudden, loud, last-minute. “Get it!” she would shriek. Or “Back! Back!” She accompanied her directions by running to do just what she was telling others to do.

  Hildy’s voice spoke softer and sooner, telling where to move or praising for having done so to Ann or Ruth, suggesting a set for spike to Sarah or Bess, yet silent to Niki.

  Ann enjoyed herself playing, yet wished it would end.

  End it eventually did, and Niki stood exultantly before Hildy. “Didn’t I tell you?” she demanded.

  Hildy remained silent.

  “You see what we could do,” Hildy said. “This was good playing. Competitive playing. We did all right, even Ann and Ruth. You didn’t tell me what to do, you didn’t have to. We managed, didn’t we? And we won.”

  “If . . .” Hildy spoke slowly, looking off toward the tree under which Eloise sat, “. . . if you had Eloise to play instead of me—”

  “Why?” The question
hung in the air between them. “Besides that, I mean. Even Ann is better than Eloise.”

  Ann flushed.

  “That team might work for you,” Hildy said. “You might be able to do what Sarah wished.”

  “What was that?” Niki demanded.

  “Be a good team, good enough to win games,” Sarah said. She spoke enthusiastically. “Not just against the freshman teams. Sophomores too. It hasn’t been done before.”

  “I’m with you. Baby, am I with you,” Niki said. “But, Hildy, don’t you want to win?”

  “Very much,” said Hildy. “A team.”

  Ann had a sudden vision of what Hildy meant, a wisp of conception as ephemeral as a fragment of mist, evaporating. For some endless fraction of a second, she saw the difficult and complex ambition of it. “I know,” she said, “like ballet.”

  “Say the Rockettes,” Ruth interposed, waggling a leg.

  “Let’s try it. You wanna? Eloise!” Niki bellowed. “Come here!” They waited for her slow arrival. “Would you be the sub if we were a team?”

  Eloise looked ready to refuse.

  “Don’t be chicken. You probably won’t ever have to play in a game. You like the game, don’t you? That doesn’t scare you?

  Eloise blinked, nodded.

  “If she’ll sub, and we all are the team”—Hildy was included in the sweep of Niki’s arm and she did not protest—“couldn’t we try it Hildy? We might just be good, really good. If we practice a lot and you coach them. Everybody wants to”—nobody would have dared to contradict her—“and we could, we could be good. By any standards, even yours.”

  “That’s what I thought,” Sarah added. “I thought we had a chance for excellence.”

  “Yes.” Hildy nodded. “I think so too. I am willing.”

  “And will you sub, Eloise?” Ann asked. “Please? I’ll feel more secure.”

  Under Niki’s eye, Eloise agreed.

  None of them wondered why it was they were so pleased with the agreement. They all felt excited by the prospect of this team. Ruth’s throaty laugh floated over the afternoon air as she suggested they confirm the decision by having ice cream sundaes together. Only Hildy declined, returning to the room to study. The six others trooped down the street to the village, in the golden afternoon.