“Of course it’s relevant why you do things,” she said.
“Only results count,” said Zack. He still sounded like a teacher. “Once you make a human connection you can talk about anything. For example, why genocide is linked to globalization.”
“Lighten up, guys,” said Mike. “I just got carried away.”
“Mike has a history of getting carried away,” said Kat. She looked at him. “But it sounded real to me.” The sharpness was gone. She smiled.
His chest throbbed. Without thinking about it, he said, “If you’re free tonight, Tori and Lori Burkis are throwing a party.”
“The Twirling Twins?” said Zack. He rolled his eyes.
“Mike and Lori are an item,” said Kat. Mike thought there was an edge in her voice. How would she know, or care?
“Andy will be there,” said Mike, mimicking her tone.
“Andy Baughman, the right-wing kook?” said Zack.
“In that case…” said Kat.
SIXTEEN
“Why’d you invite her?” Lori’s little pout was the closest she ever got to expressing anger at him. Show some annoyance, Mike thought. It would be more real than the pout, which was getting less cute every time he saw it.
“For Andy,” he said. “I think they’ve got a thing going.”
Tori made a face. “They hate each other.”
“There’s a real thin line between love and hate,” said Ryan from the couch. “And I’ve snorted it.” He and Mike had come early to help the twins get organized, but Ryan was watching the Yankees game.
Mike was excited about seeing Kat tonight. He hoped Tori was right, that Kat and Andy hated each other.
Lori dragged him down to the basement and pointed out the cartons of soft drinks. He wasn’t to bring up the beer and wine until after Amanda, the oldest of the four Burkis sisters, left for her own party. She was a Rutgers cheerleader and super straight. Their parents were at a gymnastics meet in Philadelphia with their youngest sister.
By the time Mike had lugged up the soda boxes, Amanda was gone. He rapped Ryan on the top of his head. “Open up. Police.”
“Your bud’s up.” On the TV screen Billy was at the plate, standing straight, legs wide, bat back and waggling. His laser eyes were on the pitcher. “Oscar copied that stance. Never stops moving the bat but still whips it around.”
“Why do you spend so much time watching Oscar instead of working on your own pathetic swing?” Mike tried to make it sound like a needle, but it came out a whiney question.
“I have a man crush,” said Ryan. He grabbed his crotch. “Mo’s have more fun.” He lowered his voice. “The twins can’t figure out why you invited Berger and Tigerbitch.”
Billy drove a pitch deep into left, a homer or a long out, but he didn’t pause to watch it. He put his head down and raced to first as if he were trying to beat out a grounder. He was rounding the bag when the left fielder pulled it down at the wall. He stopped, turned, and jogged off the field without expression. Icy control, thought Mike. That’s what I have to work on.
“C’mon, Ry,” said Mike, pulling on Ryan’s arm. “We got to bring up the booze.”
Ryan grumbled but stood up to throw a long soft jab that Mike easily slipped. He led Ryan downstairs, glad to have dodged answering the question. I don’t know why I invited them. Actually, I do.
The party started slowly, mostly girls at first, pretending to admire each other’s clothes while they glanced around for the boys. He pretended to be watching them while he glanced around for Zack and Kat.
The guys started showing up, mostly junior football and baseball players he knew. Lots of fist and shoulder bumps. They stood around trying to out-cool the hot sophomore girls swirling around them. It was hard to tell who was hunting and who was being hunted. After a while Mike gave up on Zack and Kat coming and let himself flow into the party. He was aroused by the looks he was getting and the seemingly accidental body brushes. He let the music wash over him, mostly Lil Potz and Pug Brown being horn-dogs and Kallie D. singing about doing a girl and a guy the same night and not seeing the difference. He didn’t much like the music but after a couple of beers it didn’t bother him.
He started talking to a tall majorette who reminded him of Kat. She kept leaning closer and closer to hear him even though he wasn’t whispering. They were almost chest to chest when Tori made one of her periodic sweeps through the room and steered him away, claiming she needed his help. She pinched him hard before she parked him with Lori and Ryan. Sometimes he thought Tori was overprotective of Lori and sometimes he thought Tori wouldn’t mind switching. Tori has too many sharp angles for me, he thought. Yeah, so why did you invite Kat? Not thinking straight?
By now the hard booze had appeared. A few kids were trading shots. A girl was already booting in a downstairs bathroom.
Ryan poked him and pointed. Andy had two girls cornered in the living room. They looked bored.
“Somebody’s got to tell him chicks dig the long ball,” said Ryan, “not political lectures.”
Mike nodded, but thought, Except maybe Kat. He wondered what she was doing tonight. Was she doing it with Zack? Why was she with him? Girl as cool as her with such a dork made no sense. She could be with anyone. Maybe she’s really into politics. Why do you care so much? What’s got into you?
A few kids disappeared upstairs. He smelled pot and moved away. He didn’t want to get busted for something he didn’t even enjoy.
He was bored but he couldn’t leave and he didn’t feel like getting hammered so he wandered away for a bathroom pit stop he didn’t need and then strolled out toward the front living room. Andy was standing alone, looking lost. Mike realized they still hadn’t talked about Andy losing first base to Mark Rapp. He was waiting for Andy to say something. Was Andy holding it all in? Maybe he didn’t really care.
“Wassup, Andy?” When he didn’t react, Mike thought of something Zack had said to provoke Andy. “Nobody interested in the link between genocide and globalization?”
Andy did a comic double take. “What are you smoking?”
“You think I’m just a dumb jock, huh?”
“Among other attributes.” Andy pretended to defend himself against a punch, then pointed over Mike’s shoulder. “Am I dreaming?”
Zack and Kat had just walked in. They stopped at the glass cases of trophies and plaques, the pictures on the walls of the four Burkis girls in action.
Mike hurried over. “Hey. Didn’t think you’d come.”
“Hope you didn’t bet against me,” said Kat. She sounded bubbly, on top of the world. A different Kat. They both laughed.
She looked great, a frilly white blouse and tight black pants molded to her long, lean legs. No knee brace. She was wearing bright red lipstick, almost dazzling against her pale skin. Her coppery hair was twisted into a giant braid that fell over one broad shoulder. When she leaned over to read one of the plaques, he saw the Chinese characters tattooed on her lower back.
“Victoria and Loriane,” she read. “I didn’t realize Tori and Lori were nicknames.”
“Typical liberal disdain for common people,” said Andy. He and Kat beamed at each other. Maybe they did have a thing.
“What are you guys drinking?” said Mike. If I play host, he thought, maybe they’ll stay awhile. At least her.
“Beer,” said Kat, and Zack nodded.
“Right back.” He rushed to the kitchen, grabbed a couple of cold ones, and rushed back. He felt charged.
A few kids had gathered and Zack was already making a speech. “A shrine to futility,” he said, dismissing the glass trophy case with a wave. “What could be more useless than twirling?”
“Maybe drinking beer and talking about twirling?” Mike handed them bottles. He liked the way Kat laughed, her dark eyes flashing at him. “What do you think, Kat?” Had he ever said her name out loud before? It filled his mouth.
“I think Lori and Tori are serious, gifted athletes,” she said, “who deserve at lea
st as much respect as the tubs of lard on the offensive line. Just because they’re women…”
“…doesn’t mean we have a right to devalue their athleticism,” said Zack, waving a glass as Tori and Lori walked over. “Although wouldn’t it be better for them to actually compete in a sport instead of cheering guys on?”
Tori said, “This is such bullshit. My sister and I bust our butts for ourselves, our family, and our school, not so some phony intellectuals can make believe they are on a Sunday talk show.”
“Way to go!” said Lori. She hugged Tori.
Zack said, “You’re right, Lori.” He was sounding like the politician looking for petition signatures. “I’d like to apologize.”
Tori snorted and said, “Don’t patronize us.” She stamped away.
“They’re not exactly identical twins,” said Mike. He tried to swallow his laughter when Lori shot him an annoyed look. Good for you, finally. She stamped away after Tori.
Kat said, “You can’t bring Zack anywhere.” She didn’t seem embarrassed.
“So send him home,” said Andy. “We need to discuss the global warming scam.”
“That why it was getting so hot in here?” said Mike. He liked the look Kat threw over her shoulder at him. Hot eyes.
Zack said, “Gotta book. A geek party. Thanks for inviting us.”
Mike followed them out the door. “Jock parties always get a little rowdy.”
Zack nodded as if it was no problem. “Time off for good behavior next Saturday. We’re going into the city for a conference.”
“Might be interesting,” said Kat. She smiled at him. His stomach jumped.
“Wouldn’t be interesting for him,” said Zack sharply.
“Wish I could,” said Mike. “Baseball team clinic. A Major League hitting instructor is coming.”
“Better not miss that,” said Kat. It didn’t sound sarcastic, he thought, just sort of playful. Am I hearing what I want to hear?
He was sorry to see them go.
Everybody was waiting for him. Tori said, “Now I understand why you slugged him, Mike.”
Lori said to Andy, “I think Tigerbitch really does like you.” Mike thought it was for his benefit.
Andy ran a freckled hand through his red hair. “What’s not to like?”
“Your personality, your face, and your body,” said Ryan, grabbing him around the neck.
Mike had promised to help the twins clean up, which was okay, but somehow the trip upstairs with Lori afterward seemed like a chore. Ryan whispered, “And now, folks, for some real twirling.” Mike punched him but his heart wasn’t in it. Climbing the stairs with Lori tucked under his arm, he imagined himself with Kat, then pushed it out of his head. Not exactly what Billy meant by visualizing. Get in the now. Enjoy the moment. He’d get off, but it would seem like just another workout.
SEVENTEEN
He was hungover at church. But the songs soothed him and the only time his head hurt was when he had to stand up. The guest preacher was a big young guy fresh out of seminary who took Ecclesiastes 3:1–8 as the basis for his sermon: “To every thing there is a season.” When he started talking about the baseball season, Mike tuned in. When the preacher veered off, talking about making a brand-new ball game of your life with Jesus as coach, Mike tuned out. Same old.
He had liked going to church when the five of them went together, before Tiffany started spinning out of control and Scotty left for college. They had felt like a family then. That was a long time ago. He was just starting out in Little League, so he would have been eight years old. Tiffany would have been thirteen, not yet sneaking off to get piercings, and Scotty fifteen, spending most of his life wrapped around his cello. The three of them weren’t that close; Scotty was too busy with his chamber music group to be a big brother and Tiffany was already on her own planet, but they got along well enough and never ratted each other out.
The first store had just opened then. Lots of new houses needed floors. Dad thought that going to church was a way to meet potential customers and get to know other merchants and politicians in the area. He was right. There would be a social hour after the service, and then the five of them would usually go to lunch at the fancy restaurant at the Ridgedale Inn or the big Greek diner on Route 17. In both places Dad would walk around, shaking hands and slapping backs. Mike could order whatever he wanted. Almost always hamburger and fries. Mom and Scotty were adventurous, fish dishes, pasta. Tiffany might pick at a vegetarian plate. It was fun.
He thought they might actually eat out to celebrate the first time in a long while they had been to church, but Dad pulled in at a deli in the mall and bought sandwiches to take to the new store.
In a couple of weeks it would be ready to open. A tiled walkway led under the arched SEMAK’S FABULOUS FLOORS sign into a huge, two-story building filled with areas for wall-to-wall carpeting, expensive throw rugs, and different kinds of tiles. Flat-screen TVs on the wall were running infomercials for different floor covering brands. Pretty fancy.
The store still smelled of paint and paste. Upstairs, men were spackling and hammering. In one corner, three dark-skinned men were sanding and staining wood flooring. One of them, tall, lanky, with a wispy mustache and goatee, jumped up to shake Dad’s hand and thank him in broken English.
He and Dad talked in halting bursts of English and Spanish, and shook hands again. The man looked happy.
Walking back downstairs, Dad said, “This is what you got to deal with to get help. Ferdy lives in Orange County in New York, no car, and depends on his cousin to drop him off here. He can be here by eight A.M. but he needs to leave by six sharp for a second job in the city cleaning offices.”
“Illegal?” Why did I say that, Mike thought.
Dad looked at him as if he were also wondering. “Illegal’s a crummy word. These guys are willing to work hard, show up on time, clean, sober, cheerful. Grateful. What’s so illegal about that?” Dad was almost shouting. “They’re trying to survive.”
“I got it.” Mike raised his hands.
“He’s here with his son, who goes to your high school, sending money back to the family in the Dominican Republic, trying to get them all together….” He stopped. “Sorry, Mike. Didn’t mean to unload on you.” He reached across Mike’s shoulders and hugged him. “Really glad we can spend a little time together. It’s all going to be yours someday. If we can hold on to it.”
Mom approached with a spreadsheet and a frown. She and Dad disappeared into the back office. Be yours someday. He remembered driving Scotty to the airport after Christmas, the last time he had seen him. Scotty was happy to be going back to school. They talked about the new store and Scotty told him not to get trapped if he didn’t want to spend the rest of his life looking down at the floor instead of up at the sky. It was very poetic and Mike knew Scotty wasn’t thinking about the sky over center field.
EIGHTEEN
Coach Cody yanked Mike off the cafeteria line and steered him down the hall and into an empty classroom. “Talk to me. Saturday.”
It took him a moment to dial into what Coach wanted. In his mind Saturday was Kat at the twins’ party. “Same as last time. The senior center in Bergen Falls. Helping them get online.”
“You got to do better than that.”
“Coach, if I knew what you were looking for…”
“If I knew I’d know, right?” Coach’s face was so close Mike could see the outlines of his contact lenses. Why does that surprise me? Everybody wears contacts, why not Coach? Somehow he thought Coach wouldn’t need anything corrected. “I need to know what’s going on in that club.”
“You think something’s going on?”
It sounded dumb but Coach nodded seriously, as if it had been a smart question. “I want to pinch it off before Zack hurts himself and other people. I hate to see a fine athlete like Katherine Herold involved. Can I count on you?”
“You want me to spy on them?”
But Coach kept nodding seriously. “I tend to
think of it as long-range Ranger recon, behind the lines.” He turned to check the door. “Between us, Mike, I think they’re hacking into school files, maybe even changing grades and evaluations. I could bring in the FBI, but then I would be exposing a lot of innocent people to privacy invasion. Are you tracking me?”
Mike wasn’t sure he was, but he nodded, stalling for time. Coach wants to protect Kat. So do I. Why do I need to protect Tigerbitch? She can take care of herself. This FBI stuff sounds like he’s trying to scare people. What TV show are we on? I’ll just tell him a little. You only know a little, Mak. “They’re going to a conference in the city on Saturday.”
“Be there.”
“What about the hitting clinic?”
“This is more important.”
Not to me, Mike thought.
Coach put a hand on his shoulder. “I’m not going to forget what you’re doing for me, for the team, the school. Better get some lunch.”
Mike went back to the cafeteria, confused. He needed to work on his batting mechanics. Look at his average. Maybe Coach didn’t care about him. Team has another center fielder. Mike was expendable. Spies die. Don’t get paranoid.
“What’d he want?” asked Andy.
“He wants me to nark on the Cyber Club. He says they’re hacking into school files.”
“Maybe hacking into his files,” said Andy. “He’s afraid they’ll find out Oscar is twenty-five years old, lives in the Bronx, and took money from a Yankee scout.”
“Does insanity run in your family?” said Mike.
“Nah, they’re old-fashioned, middle-of-the-roaders like you.”
Mike was happy to get lost in Dr. Ching’s new problem. When two bulldozers that start from opposite sides of a field and are moving at different speeds pass each other, they are five hundred yards from one side of the field. When they reach the opposite sides of the field, they turn around and head back. The second time they pass each other they are two hundred yards from the other side. How wide is the field?
Center Field Page 7
