Center Field (10 page)

They walked for a long time, through Tribeca and Chinatown and Little Italy, stopping for Kat to shoot, and then into a huge restaurant on Houston Street called Katz's.

“Best deli in the world,” said Kat.

It was crowded, noisy, and dingy. He didn't feel so hungry anymore. There were fading signs on the wall.
SEND A SALAMI TO YOUR BOY IN THE ARMY
! Was that supposed to be a rhyme? And which war, he wondered. Sharp, spicy smells brought his appetite back.

Kat led him to a counter where grumpy men were slicing huge hunks of fatty meat. She said, “You have to try the pastrami and corned beef.” She seemed so sure of herself. She ordered two sandwiches, extra pickles, cream soda. One of the men punched Kat's ticket.

They carried the food to a greasy table. “You see the movie
When Harry Met Sally
?”

He nodded. Tori and Lori loved it, made him and Ryan
watch it with them and then talk about whether men and women could be friends. Ryan had said it was impossible. Mike had no opinion. He hoped Kat wasn't going to ask him about that.

She pointed to a table where a couple were laughing. “In the movie, that's where Meg Ryan did her fake orgasm. Remember?”

He did. That scene had embarrassed him and Ryan. Lori and Tori thought it was hilarious and did their own imitations.

“You come here a lot?” As soon as he realized he had made a pun he felt heat rise in his neck.

She laughed loudly and slapped the table. He'd never seen her so up. “That's pretty good for”—she flashed the smile—“a dumb jock.” She split the sandwiches. “I like them both so if you don't, we can switch back.”

He didn't like either of them, thick, tangy meats that fell into his gut like lumps of fat. The cream soda tasted like dessert. He didn't like that either, but he smiled and nodded as if it were pizza and Dr Pepper. He watched her eat. She didn't nibble at her food like Lori, she really dug in. There was grease around her lips. He relaxed.

“And you were giving Andy a hard time for a cheeseburger.”

“Nobody's perfect.” She laughed and talked with her mouth full. “Besides, I hardly ever eat like this.”

“What are you shooting?”

“It's a project for Social Issues.” The sharp edges of her face seemed to soften. “I want to shoot a lot of faces, different generations, races, ethnic types, then match them up in a montage.” The words spilled out rapidly, almost breathlessly. He was caught up in her high spirits. “I want to show how people are more similar than different.”

“You believe that?”

“Don't you?”

“Never thought about it.”

“Neither did I until I hurt my knee and had to stop running,” she said. “I was really down. Everything was about track till then. You know, when you're running hard you're not looking around at the world. You're so focused in competition, you can avoid everything else.”

“Tell me about it,” he said.

“I started talking to Zack and reading websites he suggested, and I got out of myself. Saved my life.” She said it matter-of-factly.

He wanted more. “Saved your life?”

“Literally. I was…” She stopped. “Some other time.” She jammed the sandwich into her mouth. With her mouth full, she said, “You close to your sister?”

“My sister?” It took him a moment to remember he had mentioned his sister back in the auditorium. “Not really.
She left home when I was about eleven.”

“She a lot older than you?” Kat looked interested. Or maybe she was just changing the subject.

“She's twenty-two. When she was around sixteen she kind of went crazy, had like a breakdown. Drugs and stuff.” He talked fast. He had never told anyone this much about Tiffany before. Or about anything this personal, really. He wondered why he was now. “They needed to kidnap her out of the house and take her to a camp in Utah to straighten out.”

Kat winced. “How long was she there?”

“Almost three years. There and another place.”

Kat looked as if she were in pain. “It all worked out?”

“I guess so. She's got a job, her own apartment, a daughter.”

“She's married?”

“No.”

“You and your parents see her?”

“Yeah, we come in, she comes out to the house with the kid for holidays, but everybody's pretty busy these days.”

She looked serious. “Just don't lose that relationship.”

He wondered why this all seemed so important to her. What did it have to do with her? He kept pushing the sandwich into his mouth. He didn't want her to think he didn't like it.

After a while, to get the conversation started again, he
said, “You running this season?”

It took her a moment, as if his question had come over a satellite phone from a different continent, like in live TV news. But when her head came up, she seemed happy to answer. “I don't know. I'm pretty far behind in my training. And I've been thinking a lot about why I started to run in the first place.”

“Why did you?”

She looked at him as if the answer were obvious. “So I could blot everything out. When I run hard, I don't think of anything else, don't feel anything except the pain in my body.”

He thought of the Ranger Runs. Was that why I liked them so much?

When they finished, Kat turned in their tickets and paid. Mike tried to give her money, but she brushed it aside. “Yours next time.”

He liked that. Next time.

They walked to a park along the East River. Latino families were barbecuing and playing ball. She moved among them, asking for permission to shoot them. She was friendly but bold. They smiled at her.
No problemo
.

While she shot, Mike sat on a bench, watching her and the games. A lot of talented ballplayers. Some of them looked like Oscar. After a while she joined him on a bench.
“Andy said you were pissed because that new Dominican kid took over center field.”

“Andy talks a lot.”

“Is it true?”

He felt defensive. “I wasn't pissed because he was Dominican.”

“I didn't mean that,” she said quickly, putting a long, slim hand on his arm. He was sorry when she took it away. “I remembered what you said about center field at the senior center. It was so poetic.”

“Just babbling. I felt stupid.”

“It was great.” She gave him a funny little smile. “I should send it to Billy Budd. He'd love it. Even Zack was blown away.”

“Right.”

“You know, Zack was embarrassed by what happened between you two. He's not like that. He gets intense, but he's not a total jerk. He just doesn't have social skills. He really cares about what he's doing.”

He blurted, “You two, um, like going together?”

She shook her head. “I'm not into that these days.”

 

They wandered the East Village. Mike enjoyed just being with her, watching her quick, smooth movements as she spun in and out of crowds to shoot. He imagined the body
under the warm-up suit. She shot an Indian family and black basketball players. A junkie started hassling her, backed off when Mike stepped between them. She looked grateful. Dumb jock bodyguard, he thought. Everybody needs one.

They stopped at an outdoor café for coffee and cake. There were other couples. He felt like they were one.

“How's your ankle?”

It took him a moment to remember his sore ankle. “It's been okay. Your knee?”

“I'm starting to put some weight on it. We should run.”

“If I can keep up.”

She wrote something on a piece of napkin and gave it to him. “Call me when you feel like running. Really just jogging for now.”

She looked at her watch. “I better call Zack. We're supposed to meet up about now, to go home. It's his van, but he hates to drive in the city.”

He nodded. He wasn't ready for the day to end.

“You said you're meeting your sister, right?”

He felt caught in the lie. “Right.” He paid the check. He hoped it wasn't the only next time.

“That was fun,” she said. She kissed him on the cheek before she jogged away. He couldn't move until she was out of sight. He was confused. Is she coming on to me?

 

He thought about calling Tiffany. Or just ringing her doorbell. She lived in a walk-up apartment with her daughter, Sophia, who was almost four. Mom had seen them a couple of weeks ago. She called the apartment a dump. But she had to admit that Tiffany, for once, seemed happy. She had a waitress job nearby and a friend who babysat. He liked Tiffany and Sophia, but he didn't have much to say to them.

He circled Tiffany's block twice, trying to walk off the chunks of fat hardening in his stomach and decide whether or not to ring her bell. He knew she would be glad to see him, but then what? Be embarrassing. Somehow he knew Kat would ask him about his sister when he saw her again and he didn't want to lie.

The downstairs buzzer had an
OUT OF ORDER
sign and while he stared at the T. Semak label with its smiley face, a guy unlocked the lobby door and let him in. He walked up three flights of shabby stairs. Food and pot smells roiled his stomach, disturbing the fat chunks. He knocked on Tiffany's door. He could hear the TV inside. Sounded like a kid's cartoon.

“Yeah? Who?” It didn't sound like her. The peephole clicked open.

“It's Mike. I was just in the neighborhood….”

“I recognize you.” The door opened and a squat person in a sweatshirt and jeans was grinning at him. Buzz-cut blond hair. He couldn't tell if it was male or female. “The baseball brother, right? Your picture's on her screensaver. I'm her friend, Arlene.” She grabbed his hand and pumped. Strong grip. “She's working. Wanna come in?”

“No, thanks, I gotta go. Just tell her I stopped by.”

“Say hello to Sophia?”

“Next time, I'll come back.” He sidestepped down the hall, waving at Arlene until he got to the stairs, turned and hurried down. What's wrong with you? You could've said hello to the kid. Then what? You afraid of Arlene? Probably wanted to talk ball. Bet she's a Yankee fan, too.

I just didn't want to get out of the mood, he thought. I got Kat on my mind. That's enough right now.

 

He walked all the way to Times Square and took a bus home. He turned on his cell. There were texts from Lori. He felt as though he had been cheating on her. She'd want to know about today. Not going to tell her about Katz's for sure. His mind felt jumbled. What was he going to tell Cody? He didn't care about the pukes, but he didn't want Kat to get involved.

Mom and Dad had come home late from the new store on Saturday night and went back early Sunday morning, leaving him notes and food he couldn't eat. He woke Sunday to his stomach churning. Was it still the strange meats at Katz's or everything else? Kat. Center field. What was he going to tell Coach on Monday? It wasn't just about ratting out Zack and the Cyber Club, it would be ratting out Kat.

He wished he understood her. He needed to talk to her. Carefully, he opened the napkin she had written on. He had two false starts before he took a deep breath and punched her numbers.

“Huh?” She sounded like she had been asleep.

“I wake you?”

She hung up.

He called back.

“Wha?” Asleep or drugged, he thought.

“It's Mike.”

“Mike.”

“I thought you might like to run. Take a break, clear your head.”

There was a pause. “I was up all night. Editing. On deadline.”

“The Social Issues Project?”

“I'll tell you sometime.” She sounded cold, far away. She hung up.

Probably something for Zack. Something they didn't trust him with knowing. He felt rejected. She didn't sound at all like the girl he had been with yesterday. Had she changed her mind about a next time or had that kiss been a goodbye not a come-on? Hey, Mak, it's not always about you. He remembered what Tori had said about mood swings. But maybe it was his call that had swung her mood into the toilet.

He took a long bike ride to the community college track, the best in the county, and tested the ankle at different speeds. He ran backward and sideways. It seemed okay.

On the way back he stopped at Andy's house. As usual, Andy's parents were glad to see him. They thought he was a good influence. They insisted he stay for dinner. He lied and said his parents were expecting him. Andy was in his room with the door locked. He opened it a crack when Mike
pounded, then let him in quickly. He was watching a debate on C-Span.

“I need to talk to you,” said Mike.

“What about?” Andy switched to alert mode. He loved new information.

“Coach is on my back. To spy on the Cyber Club. He wants evidence that they're hacking into school files, that they're doing stuff to undermine the administration.”

“Are they?”

“Sounds like it.”

“Best thing I ever heard about them.”

“I don't know what to do.” As soon as he said it, he felt better. The churning slowed. Billy said that sometimes you need a friend to share your problems. It's okay to ask for help.

“You don't owe those lefties anything.”

“I'm not a snitch,” said Mike.

“It's not snitching, it's counterterrorism. Jack Bauer in
24
, best show on the tube.”

“C'mon. You're the guy calls Coach some kind of dictator.”

“Sometimes you need one. You think Oscar's the only illegal in school?”

“Coach brought him in.” His stomach started churning again.

“There you go,” said Andy. “Need I say more?”

“You're not making any sense. Whose side are you on?”

“You got to play all sides. You think Oscar just kind of wandered into Ridgedale, ‘
Hola, amigos
, you got a
béisbol
team?'” Andy laughed to himself. “Cody recruited him. Found him somewhere, got him set up. Maybe a job for a member of his family.”

Mike thought of Ferdy. Had Coach talked to Dad about hiring him? Part of the deal they cut after he pushed Zack?

Andy said, “So what was it the geeks were talking about?”

“Something called On-High dot org. Kids from different schools sharing information.”

“That would scare old Cody. And a lot of other people. Especially once the kids put up stuff they've hacked. The next terrorist attack is going to come from cyberspace.”

“You heard of Ridgedalesucks dot com?”

“Sure.” Andy flopped down at his desk and tapped on his laptop. Mike watched over his shoulder as Ridgedalesucks.com came up. It was a flashy website, but most of the columns and posts were attacks on individual teachers for being boring, giving low grades, or smelling bad. There were whiny complaints about fungi in the basement, rat feces in the cafeteria, and dangerous conditions in the chem lab. The sports column was mostly rants about jocks getting grades they didn't deserve and acting like assholes
in the hallway. There was an item about a star pitcher who might be taking steroids when he wasn't busy getting drunk at his parties.

“That's Craig,” said Andy. “Probably true.”

“Try Codywatch.”

Coach in his camo filled the screen. It looked like a cell phone picture of the photo in his office. Up close, the hard, tough grin was intimidating. Underneath it read: “Who is this man?” There wasn't much on the site yet, except Cody's résumé on file with the school board and a call for information and opinions.

“This is pretty pathetic for an underground site,” said Andy.

“They're just getting started,” said Mike.

“You get to hang out with Tigerbitch?”

Mike shook his head no. He wanted to talk about her, but not right now with Andy.

 

On Monday he felt numb and nervous waiting for Cody to summon him out of class and grill him about Saturday. He still didn't know what he was going to say. At lunch Lori barely talked to him. She pretended she couldn't tear loose from her latest vampire novel. She's rejecting me, too, he thought, but I don't care. Tori and their mom had gone into the city to see a specialist about Tori's sinus infection.
It had made her too shaky to do their fire dance routine with its flaming sticks over the weekend. Their devil stick routine, which wasn't as spectacular or dangerous, got them second place to a couple of girls they thought they should have beaten. Mike had the feeling that Lori was pissed at him for not answering her calls.

Dr. Ching's class worked through the equations to solve the bulldozer problem. The first one was the width of the field equals the time until the bulldozers first passed convoluted with the sum of the two bulldozers' speed. It wasn't that hard but Mike couldn't focus. He watched the door for Cody. He thought, There is no one I can talk to.

At practice the coaches reviewed the hitting clinic. It had been a good one. Mike felt left behind. Coach Cody never even looked at him. He spent most of the time working with Oscar on his follow-through. One of the pro coaches had brought it up at the clinic.

After practice Mike lifted for an hour to drain off the energy buzzing in his body. By the time he rode out of the varsity lot, rain clouds had gathered, darkening the early evening.

He was on a quiet side street with no sidewalks, riding close to tall bushes hiding the houses on the other side, when he sensed a car slowly coming up behind him. He held the bike steady to let it pass.

He heard an angry curse and turned in time to see spiky black hair and a tattooed neck through the passenger window of a white van. The door opened and became a metal wall that slammed him off his bike. The van sped away.