Jeri pointed to the captains’ circle. “Hey, that’s gonna be you and me this year. That’s so cool that Coach picked you for captain, too. You, a lowly junior. I guess she thinks you’re, like, a leader or something.” Jeri gave Marlee a friendly push with her shoulder.
“Whatever.” Marlee gave her friend a conspiratorial shoulder nudge in return. “I guess we have something in common with Christy. Well, that and the fact that she strikes us out all the time.”
“Swing and a miss,” Jeri giggled in her bad announcer’s voice.
The same group of people turned to look at them again, curious about their laughter. The public address announcer’s voice echoed through the night air. The East Valley Panther team funneled out of their dugout onto the field. Marlee watched Christy command attention as she strode to the pitcher’s circle. She looked confident and strong. The red and black Panther uniforms made the entire Panther team look ominous. Marlee’s team colors were royal blue and white. Nothing ominous there. The royal blue brought out the color in Marlee’s eyes, her mother had told her more than once. Lord knows that would intimidate the Panthers on Tuesday.
The other Panther players raced to their positions as if competing to see who could get there first. One of the Panther players, the left fielder, ran past them. Marlee followed the girl with her eyes, mesmerized by the way her athletic body moved. When the girl reached left field, she flung her glove to the ground and pulled off her black and red softball hat. A stream of long auburn hair flowed free. Marlee inhaled sharply. The girl’s hair was the kind you see in those shampoo commercials where the woman flips her soft-as-rain hair around her head. The girl in left field gathered her own soft-as-rain hair with both hands and flipped it into a ponytail. She whisked the ponytail under her hat, and it looked as if she had short hair. She then pushed an obviously escaped shock of hair out of her eyes with what looked liked a practiced hand.
Marlee’s gaze wandered over the rest of the athlete. The girl’s red and black Panther jersey was tight across her ample chest. Marlee could also make out the muscles underneath the girl’s snug black and red three-quarter pants. Marlee imagined the girl in shorts. And her hands. Her hands looked so strong. She felt her face flush and realized she’d been holding her breath. She forced herself to exhale as a sudden warmth overtook her in the cold bleachers. The left fielder’s fist pounded in her glove as Marlee’s heart pounded in her chest.
“Marlee.” Jeri waved a hand in her best friend’s face. “Where are you, girl? I asked you a question.”
More heat rose to Marlee’s cheeks and neck. Jeri had caught her staring at somebody and that somebody was a girl. She ran a nervous hand through her short hair and hoped Jeri would think the cold night air caused the crimson in her cheeks.
“What?” she choked.
“Oh forget it.” Jeri waved her off with a flip of her hand. “I answered my own question. They’re playing Southfork.”
Marlee took a deep breath in an attempt to regain her composure, but under cover she replayed the most amazing thing she had ever seen in her entire life. She felt her cheeks flush as a large part of her struggled to understand what was so intriguing about the East Valley left fielder with the soft-as-rain hair. In spite of that struggle, Marlee smiled when she realized she would be able to watch this girl for another two hours.
Chapter Two
Cougars vs. Panthers
EVEN THOUGH TUESDAY had seemed an eternity away to Marlee, the day of the Cougar-Panther game finally arrived. She shifted in her classroom seat, right in front of Jeri. She just couldn’t get comfortable in the hard plastic chair. And Mrs. Stratton, her third period calculus teacher, droned on and on about infinite series or something. Marlee didn’t have time for calculus. She had to think about that afternoon’s game against the East Valley Panthers. That was much more important than infinite series any day.
Marlee pictured herself pitching against the Panthers that afternoon. Carefree puffy clouds would float overhead in the brilliant blue sky. There would be no threat of rain, and definitely no hint of snow. The temperature would be just right for pitching. Her drop balls would drop perfectly. Her rise balls would rise expertly, not how they usually did, over her catcher Lisa Brown’s head. That sort of thing was not going to happen today. In fact, Marlee mused, Lisa would be so impressed with Marlee’s pitching that she’d even let Marlee throw whatever pitches she wanted whenever she wanted. Wouldn’t that be something? Batter after Panther batter would come up to the plate and she would strike them all out, most of them on only three pitches, including the left fielder, #7 Susie Torres.
Marlee wasn’t sure what to do about her sudden fascination with the East Valley left fielder. A large part of her denied any attraction, but a small part of her allowed the possibility. She let that small part wonder why she hadn’t noticed her before Friday night. She must have pitched against Susie at some point during the last season, but she couldn’t come up with an answer.
On Friday night, Marlee discovered that Susie could hit with power. But she was not going to allow Susie or anyone else on the East Valley Panther team to get any hits because she planned to strike out every Panther batter on her way to a no-hit perfect game. And her teammates would hang strikeout K’s on the outfield snow fence where a certain left fielder would be reminded who had struck out those Panther batters all day long.
Marlee jumped when she felt a sharp jab in her back.
“Marlee,” Jeri whispered frantically.
Marlee turned fully around in her seat to face Jeri and hissed, “What?”
“Mrs. Stratton asked you a question.” She pointed toward the front of the room.
The twenty-five other students in the class broke into laughter as Marlee did the slow turn of shame to face their math teacher. Mrs. Stratton, both hands on her hips, peered at Marlee over her glasses. Marlee managed a sheepish grin and mouthed the word, “sorry.” The class tittered again.
“Ms. McAllister,” Mrs. Stratton began, “now that we have your attention.” She paused when several students in the class snickered. “Would you kindly give us an example of an infinite series that converges?”
“Ummm...” Marlee fumbled. She took a deep breath and pretended to look at her notes. Her “notes” turned out to be a softball field. “Well, I, uh...can I get back to you on that?”
“Ahh,” her teacher said knowingly. The smallest of smiles gleamed in her eyes as she said, “I thought as much.” She walked back to the front board, white board marker brandished like a sword. “Game time isn’t for,” she pointed to the classroom clock with the marker, “another five hours or so, right?” Marlee nodded. “Try to stay focused until then. Okay?” Marlee nodded vigorously.
The class sighed in collective relief as their comrade escaped the wrath of Stratton. Marlee felt her cheeks get hot. She nodded her head slowly and turned to a fresh page in her notebook. She knew she had gotten lucky that time. Mrs. Stratton wasn’t always so kind.
“Okay,” Mrs. Stratton continued, “who can tell me the answer?”
When the bell rang to signal the end of the class, Marlee packed up her books and Jeri poked her again. “Where were you, girl? You’re, like, daydreaming a lot lately.” The two friends slung their backpacks over their shoulders and filed out of Mrs. Stratton’s classroom with the other students.
Marlee felt herself blush clear to her toes. “Oh, uh, I was thinking about the game today. Gettin’ psyched.” She paused and then added laughing, “Oh, my God. I can’t believe Mrs. S called on me.”
Jeri joined her laughter and put a playful arm around Marlee’s shoulder as they walked down the hall. “Girl, what has you so distracted? Bobby? Ooh la la.”
“No,” Marlee snapped. She shrugged out of Jeri’s hold.
Surprised, Jeri took back her arm. “Okay, okay. Sore subject. I can tell. Listen, I gotta go. Can’t be late to History anymore. We’ll talk later. And you,” she jabbed a finger at Marlee, “stay awake in class.”
> “GEEZ, MARLEE, C’MON. You are not warmed up,” Lisa protested. The Clarksonville Cougar catcher clearly had a different opinion than her pitcher. Lisa Brown whipped off her catcher’s mask and wiped her forehead, her long black braid swung back and forth. She showed her hand to Marlee. “Look, I haven’t even broken a sweat. Even with all this gear on. Geez.” She gestured to her shin guards, chest protector, and mask.
Marlee and Lisa had only gotten through about two-thirds of their usual warmup when the luxury bus from East Valley pulled up. Marlee shrugged. “Lisa, I’m good. Don’t worry about it. I’m loose. Go hang with the team. I have to rake.” Marlee wanted to watch the Panther players walk toward the field.
Lisa hesitated and looked about to protest, but, much to Marlee’s relief, simply shrugged her shoulders. “Okay, but if you change your mind you know where I’ll be.” She moved toward the Cougars’ team bench in obvious resignation.
Marlee pulled the rusty rake out of the tin supply shed. All the while she kept the Panther players in her peripheral vision. Marlee’s earlier vision of the afternoon, a perfect blue sky with cotton candy clouds, did not materialize. Gray clouds hung low in the cold and dreary afternoon. She scanned for Susie, as best one could using peripheral vision, but hadn’t spotted her yet. Marlee raked the pitcher’s circle over and over from every angle.
The sea of red and black Panther jackets flowed closer. She felt a quick pang of shame when she remembered that her Clarksonville Cougar softball field was vastly inferior to the East Valley field. The school district’s austerity budget made sure of that. She didn’t have time for self-pity and went back to scanning for Susie. Her throat tightened when she found the sweet face she had been searching for. She remembered to breathe, but barely.
She watched Susie get closer. Oh, my God. She’s so cute. Her heartbeat quickened and she found herself raking faster and faster. Marlee glanced at Susie and tried to take her in all at once. Her overlong glance revealed Susie’s smiling eyes, dark skin, thin waist, and, oh, that athletic walk. Realizing she had stopped raking and was practically staring, Marlee turned away and went over to rake Lisa’s catching area. She tried to suppress it, but couldn’t help the grin that snuck out on her face.
Marlee tried to figure out why she needed to look at this girl. Did this Susie remind her of someone? Did she simply admire the girl’s athleticism? Marlee couldn’t answer the questions and looked up surreptitiously once more to find Susie and became instantly annoyed that Susie walked side by side with dreaded enemy number one, Christy Loveland. Christy looked mean in her red and black uniform, but Susie was a different story. Susie’s Panther jacket hugged her thin waist and Marlee couldn’t help but notice Susie’s strong legs. Marlee looked at Christy again and frowned. Why does Susie have to be with her?
THE EAST VALLEY players tossed their gear on the ground, and for the second time that afternoon, Marlee felt self-conscious about the Cougars’ home field. The outfield grew more dandelions than grass and the fence wasn’t even real. An old wooden snow fence stood about four feet high and almost half of the wooden slats were either broken or missing. There were no water fountains, no dugouts, and just a couple of wobbly wooden benches that you didn’t dare slide on because splinters would be your reward. There were no stadium lights, of course, which meant no night games. And the Clarksonville High School softball field wasn’t even level. Center field sloped down toward the nearby school building.
“Kiddo,” Coach Spears yelled to Marlee, breaking her out of her reverie. “You’re going to give yourself blisters. You’re done raking. Come over to the bench.” Coach Spears turned from Marlee and greeted the Panther coach.
Marlee growled in frustration at the interruption, but decided she’d better follow her coach’s order. She took a deep breath, leaned the rake against the supply shed, although it was supposed to go in the shed, and walked to her team bench. She passed the rickety five-tier bleachers, cracked and weathered with age. The few brave Cougar fans wore winter coats, scarves, and gloves. They had even created a huddled community under heaps of blankets. She didn’t bother to look for her mother because her mother couldn’t take time away from her real estate job. Marlee waved to the die-hard fans and knew that April in the North Country could be rough on outdoor spectators.
Marlee clapped Jeri on the back and said, “Are we going to rock their world today or what?”
“Sure, if Christy has the flu,” Jeri joked and retied her cleats. This was one of her pregame rituals. Her curly dark hair spilled over her forehead and she brushed it back with annoyance.
“Hand me my hat, Marlee. You had the right idea when you cut your hair short. This is so annoying.”
Marlee handed her friend the requested hat. “I don’t expect them to hit anything today, but on the off chance they do manage to hit one to center field, catch it, will ya?”
“Aww, they won’t hit a thing today because Marlee, future All-County pitcher, is on the mound. Okay, there’s no mound in softball, I know,” she amended, “but it sounds better than in the circle.” Pregame rituals complete, she added, “Just do me a favor and throw the pitches Lisa calls for.” She wagged a teasing finger in Marlee’s face. “Coach said you’ve got to listen to Lisa.”
Marlee snapped her teeth together as if to bite the finger. “Yeah, and at five-foot-nine, Lisa could probably beat me up if I don’t listen.”
“We should’ve asked her to come with us to the game last Friday,” Jeri said.
Marlee hadn’t even considered asking Lisa to the game. Lisa could have sized up the batters with her. “Yeah, we should have. I don’t know why we didn’t think of it.” Maybe, Marlee mused, she hadn’t considered taking Lisa since they only hung out at softball. And besides, Lisa was a sophomore, a year younger than Marlee, and they didn’t hang in the same social circles. What social circles? The me and Bobby social circle of two? She dismissed Bobby’s brief intrusion. Big game. No time for distractions. At that moment the umpires called for the captains’ circle.
Marlee and Jeri grabbed their gloves from the bench and jogged to home plate. Christy Loveland sauntered over with a cool I’ve-done-this-a-thousand-times groove. Marlee frowned. Did she and Jeri look like complete idiots running over? She yanked her hat off with her left hand and raked her right hand through her short hair in an attempt to cover her embarrassment.
The home plate umpire asked the players to introduce themselves and shake hands. Ground rules gone over, he reminded the players about their responsibilities as captains. This responsibility included good sportsmanship, but Marlee knew that Christy Loveland wasn’t going to be a good sport after Marlee pitched her perfect game against them. After the brief meeting, Marlee and Jeri coolly sauntered back to the Cougar team bench.
“Home team, take the field,” the umpire yelled and leaned over to brush off home plate.
Marlee’s stomach did a flip. She wanted to run to the pitcher’s circle, but willed herself to play it cool and walked out calmly and with confidence. If ever there was a day to pitch flawlessly, this was it.
“C’mon, Marlee,” Lisa yelled from behind the plate, “fire it in here.” She pounded her catcher’s mitt.
Marlee threw her five warmup pitches and felt strong and confident. She still felt strong and confident even after the first Panther batter swatted a single down the right field line. One runner on, no big deal, Marlee thought. I’ll just pitch a one-hitter today. She had to amend her one-hitter dream of glory to a two-hitter dream when the second batter beat out a bunt up the first base line. Marlee couldn’t figure out what was going wrong with her grand plan when she walked the third batter to load the bases. With no outs, big hitter Susie Torres, #7, was due up next.
Marlee McAllister, #3, tried to stay calm, cool, and collected. But when she watched Susie take her last practice swing in the on-deck circle her knees went rubbery again. God, she looks strong.
Susie walked up to the plate wielding her bat like a weapon. Marlee felt a stone for
m in the pit of her stomach. Susie adjusted her helmet and stepped into the batter’s box. The end of her ponytail stuck out of the bottom of her helmet. Susie turned her head and stared straight at Marlee. Marlee gasped. Oh, my God, she’s looking right at me. And I’m looking right at her. The realization hit her like a freight train. Everyone will see. She admonished herself to keep cool. No one knows. But it was this last thought that took her completely by surprise. No one knows what? She tucked the question away like a package she’d open later.
Lisa pounded her mitt. Marlee gripped the ball and fired. Low fastball. Strike one. Marlee smiled. Strike one on Susie Torres, #7. Lisa called for a curve ball and Marlee delivered. This time Susie connected with the pitch. Marlee’s heart leapt when Susie smacked a foul ball deep down the left field line.
“Way to go, #3,” Lisa called out to Marlee. “Just a long strike, eh? One more now.”
Marlee figured Lisa would call for the change-up. She did. But Marlee figured Susie would look for the change-up so she thought a two-strike rise ball just might fool her. She wound up and threw as hard as she could. The ball rose all right, right at Susie’s head. Susie jerked her head out of the way in time but fell to the ground. Thankfully, Lisa caught the errant pitch. Mortified, Marlee turned around and looked at Jeri in center field. Jeri opened her mouth in a big laugh and flipped her thumb around in the international beanball sign. Marlee shrugged that she hadn’t meant it. Jeri made the sign again. Marlee turned around and saw that Susie had already gotten up and was brushing dirt from her uniform. Susie stepped into the batter’s box again and adjusted her helmet. She then did something that shook Marlee to the core. Susie, slowly and deliberately, turned her head to face Marlee and grinned right at her. Marlee swallowed hard. Susie had noticed her all right, but this was not the way she had wanted to be noticed.
Barbara L. Clanton - Out of Left Field Page 2
