Center Field (7 page)

Zack and Kat were already inside the basement room, unhooking computers, when he walked in. She was wearing a varsity track warm-up suit in the blue and gold Ridgedale colors, but the letters spelling out Rangers across the front seemed to have been torn off. Weird, thought Mike.

“Didn't think you'd show,” said Zack. He looked sorry to see Mike.

“We had a bet,” said Kat. She looked glad. “I won.”

“Why'd you bet on me?”

He was surprised to see her blush. The question had knocked her back. What happened to cool Kat? It took the Tigerbitch a moment to get her claws out. “I figured you'd do anything not to play baseball, the way you're hitting.”

Somehow the dig pleased him. He'd gotten to her and she needed to snap back.

“Let's get to work,” said Zack.

 

When the shapeless old woman in the backward Yankees cap lurched into the senior center behind her walker, she yelled, “Where's my dumb jock bodyguard?”

An old man whispered to Mike, “She's been talking about you all week.”

“I heard that,” she said. “I like big bad boys. C'mere.”

Kat was trying not to laugh. Mike walked over. The old lady looked like one of the mythical beasts they'd read about in Freshman English. Harpies? Gargoyles?

“What's your name, hunk?”

“Mike Semak.”

“What's your sport?”

“Baseball.”

Her eyes opened wide, a surprisingly sweet blue in that pleated, painted face. “Let me guess. You're an outfielder.”

“Center field.”

“My favorite position,” she said. “Okay, here's the deal-break question. Who was the greatest center fielder of all time?”

She was so over the top that Mike felt relaxed with her. He rubbed his chin and pretended to be thinking deeply. “Well, my dad would say Mickey Mantle and I think you would say Willie Mays but I say Billy Budd.”

Her shriek stunned the room. Trembling old people
froze. “I'm taking this boy home with me. I love him!” She threw one big soft arm around Mike's neck and hugged him. “Brains and brawn, you can't beat it.”

She let go and lurched off to the coffee and bagel table. Mike felt a smile crack his face. He liked the way everyone was looking at him. He searched for Kat. She was pretending to be busy with her camera, but she was laughing.

“Real character,” said the skinny Goth kid who had looked familiar last week. “She used to be an actress.” He stuck out his hand. “I'm Nick.”

Mike suddenly recognized Nick Brodsky, a senior. He was much thinner and more Gothed out than he'd been during football season. Eyebrow rings, which the coaches would never have allowed, black eyeliner, spiky black dyed hair, and a web tattoo crawling up his neck. He'd been a good wide receiver, fast and smart; he could read the defense and beat the corners. Mike liked to practice against him. It lifted his game. He was sorry when Nick quit the team. Something about drugs, maybe even dealing. Tori had heard he was working off his sentence buying cigarettes in local stores so the cops could bust them for selling to underage customers. How had he not recognized Nick last time? Pay attention, Coach had said. Stay in the now.

“Didn't get a chance to talk last week,” said Nick. “I wasn't dissing you.”

“No offense.”

“No defense.” They laughed. It was an old football joke. Mike was glad there was another jock in the room. “I heard about you and Zack. He can be intense.”

“I should've stayed cool.”

“Then you wouldn't get to be here.” Nick's whole body rippled when he laughed.

Kat was walking backward, shooting video. When she passed them, she snapped, “Bond on your own time, boys, we got to set up.” Still in a bad mood.

Nick whispered, “Tigerbitch!”

“She's okay.” Why'd I say that, thought Mike.

Nick rolled his eyes. “You kidding?”

Mike finished setting up the chairs and got himself a bagel and orange juice. At least they had the regular stuff here, no pulp. I should remind Mom, but she's so busy these days.

He watched the old folks. It looked like high school, pushy people grabbing seats at the computers, shy ones hanging back, gossipers in the corners. The old Yankees lady was reapplying her makeup. He wondered if she was really interested in computers or just lonely. Why am I thinking about her?

After a while, when one of the computers was free, he amazed himself by walking over to her and saying, “I'm no brainiac, but I can help you get online and surf around.”

“Now that would be grand,” she said. She extended a
hand. “I'm Regina Marie. What's your name again?”

“Mike.”

“An excellent name, simple and to the point.”

He helped her settle into the chair in front of a desktop. “Is there somebody you'd like to send an email to?”

“All dead, honey. What do you look at when you, uh, surf?”

“Billy Budd's got a website. Would you like to look at that?”

“Not exactly Willie Mays, but what the hoo.” She laughed deep in her throat.

Mike logged onto the website and showed Regina Marie how to click onto links. She laughed when Billy appeared and said, “How can I help you, young baller?”

“You know, I was one once,” she said.

“A young baller?”

“Actually, that meant something else in my time, but never mind.” She rolled her eyes. “You know, I played short center field for the
Kismet
team in the Broadway Show League in Central Park. You ever hear of the musical
Kismet
?” When Mike shook his head, she said, “I was a harem girl. Almost sixty years ago.” She clicked the mouse. Billy invited her to check out his blog. She read it chuckling. “That girlfriend of his. What do you think?”

“Okay so long as he keeps his eye on the ball.”

She laughed until she started choking. He patted her back, not too hard. She liked that. He tensed up when he noticed that Kat was shooting them with her video cam, but Kat noticed his discomfort and turned the camera away.

The blinking alert popped up for the A Day With Billy contest.

“You should enter that,” said Regina Marie.

“You need to do a video.” Mike shrugged. “What would I say?”

“Talk about center field. I was on the
Today
show once and Dave Garroway, bet you never heard of him, asked me to close my eyes and describe what it was like to sing and dance on a Broadway stage. Close your eyes.”

This is too weird, he thought, but he closed his eyes.

“Not so scrunchy,” she said. “Better. Okay, Mike, so what's it like being in center field?”

He visualized himself alone on a carpet of dark green late-summer grass, under a ceiling of blue sky, gliding toward a falling fly ball. He heard himself talking. “Center field's part of the spine of the team. Catcher, pitcher, shortstop, center fielder. Can't win without a strong spine.”

When he stopped and opened his eyes, the old lady said, “Is it hard to play?”

“It's not as hard to play as shortstop or catcher, all the things they have to keep in their minds. Center field's
simpler that way but if you mess up it's going to be an extra-base hit. You have to zone in on the ball, track it right into your glove, and then know what to do with it.

“People always say Billy Budd's a natural, like he was born a center fielder, like it's all muscle memory and hand-eye coordination, but I know how much work went into it, thinking all the time, all the possible situations, how many on, how many outs, which base would you throw to. It's like a math problem, there's a right answer and a wrong one, but you have to figure it out. You can't fake it.”

Why am I blabbing like this? He stopped again.

“What else do you like, Mike? Close your eyes.”

He closed his eyes again. He was back in center field, the green grass under his feet, the blue sky above.

“It's like being on top of the world. Seeing everything spread out in front of you. Coming at you. It's all up to you, you're the last chance and you've got all this green room to run down the ball. It's open and clean, no foul lines or crazy angles or base runners, just you and the ball.”

His eyes snapped open. He had drawn a crowd. He saw Zack with his mouth open, silent for once, Nick grinning and nodding. Kat had the camera aimed at him. People stood behind her. They clapped. His face felt hot.

“Pure poetry,” said Regina Marie. “You're ready for prime time.”

“Sorry, I…” He shook his head. “I'll show you how
to move around the Buddsite.”

It seemed like only a few minutes later that one of the old men was thanking the Cyber Club. As he reached over to log out, Regina Marie hugged him. It felt like being smothered by one of Mom's down comforters. It didn't feel too bad.

On the way out Nick high-fived him. “Awesome.”

 

Back at school he thought they unloaded and rehooked more slowly than last week, as if they weren't in such a hurry to split up.

Zack said, “That was a good connection with that woman, Mike.” It sounded like praise from an English teacher. “It's the first step. The personal comes before the political.”

“It was just nice,” said Kat. She sounded impatient. “Does everything have to be political?”

“Everything
is
political,” said Zack, “whether you know it or not.”

“Whether
I
know it or not?” said Kat. Tigerbitch had her claws out.

“It's an expression,” said Zack.

“Mike was reaching out,” said Kat. “He wasn't sucking up to her for votes or for some ulterior purpose.”

“His motivation is irrelevant,” said Zack.

“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.

“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 least 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.