Force Out (10 page)

When they were out of earshot of their group, Joey looked over his shoulder to make sure no one was following them. “That guy is
such
a jerk.”

“Butch?”

“Who else?”

“He's okay.”

“You call that okay?”

“He did start to act a little funny when you got there. He's usually nice.”

“The guy can't even play baseball. He's lucky his dad is the coach. He bats third. You know what his batting average is?”

Leah shook her head as they walked. Sunlight dappled the gravel path with wavy patches of gold. They weren't the only ones walking. Kids and families and young couples strolled along going both ways, depending on whether they'd seen the falls or were on their way there.

“One eighty-four. Can you believe that?”

She shrugged.

“Zach bats six twenty-three.” Joey felt suddenly foolish, like he was out on the dance floor all over again. He shut his mouth.

Leah took a deep breath and pointed at the stream. “I like the way the light is on the water. It's like a million diamond rings.”

“Yeah,” Joey said. “Real nice.”

They walked in silence and Joey felt words building up inside him like some giant burp that just had to come out to keep him from exploding. He opened his mouth. “I played my worst game of the year yesterday.”

The words might have been a burp for how abrupt and odd-sounding they were. He bit his lower lip. He just couldn't seem to get things right.

“That's okay,” she said. “Like I said last night, everyone has a bad game sometimes. Miguel Cabrera had two errors Thursday night. It happens.”

“You're a Detroit fan?”

“Not really.” She looked up at him, offering a smile of perfect white teeth. “I like first basemen, and he's the best.”

He grinned. “Me, too, but what about Pujols? Votto?”

“You could make an argument for any one of them. It's personal preference. I think Cabrera is steady, but then . . . two errors? That's why I say it can happen.”

Joey realized they were having to raise their voices now because the roaring thunder of the falls filled the shade. The air turned cooler as they rounded a bend and confronted the broken white water cascading down the rocks into a deep green pool. In the notch of the hills above, the blue sky wedged itself between the trees.

They found a spot along the railing and leaned against it, watching the water.

“Try to follow one spot of water,” Joey said, his eyes picking out a part of the stream as it fell, split, and shattered into a thousand droplets that got lost in the mist.

Leah leaned against his shoulder, then separated. “I like it here.”

“Me, too.”

“Zach says you're the nicest person he knows. He says he never had a friend like you.”

“I never had one like him, either.”

“I bet. You guys are lucky, sticking together like that. I don't know if girls can do that.”

“Why not?”

She shrugged and laughed at him. “What's that book?
Women Are from Venus, Men Are from Mars
?”

“I don't know.”

“Something like that. We tend to compete a little more.”

“Both Zach and I are competitive.”

“With each other?”

Joey had to think about that. “No. Not with each other, I guess.”

“See? That's nice. Like Lucy, for instance.”

“Lucy?”

“My friend. She's got blond hair.”

“Oh, her. Yeah?”

“She's mad at me about you.”

“Me?”

“She likes you, so she's mad that I danced with you and talked on the playground. I'm sure she's steaming right now.”

“But she's still your friend. She didn't say anything.”

“That's what I mean. Girls don't talk about it. They use secret methods to do battle. Boys? They just start arguing and pushing each other around. You always know where you stand.”

“But you know where you stand with Lucy?”

“I'm tuned in to things like that, but even I get caught off guard sometimes.”

Joey shook his head. “That's what I like about baseball. You always know where you stand.”

“Except for this all-star thing, right?” She looked at him.

“Sorry,” Leah said, “I didn't mean to bring up a sore subject.”

“No, that's okay. I'm going to make that team.” Joey sounded more confident than he felt.

“Well, I think you should.”

“But you only saw my worst game.”

“The other nice thing about baseball is that your numbers speak for themselves. Twenty-seven home runs with a five-ten batting average is tough to argue with.”

Joey just stared. She knew his stats. She actually
knew
his stats. “How did you . . .”

She tilted her head. “Zach.”

“Oh.” Joey took out his phone and looked at the time. “Hey, we probably better get back. We eat dinner at six.”

They walked side by side, and at first Joey wasn't certain but he thought Leah was walking closer to him. Halfway back to the swimming area, her hand brushed against his and he was sure. It made him blush and he thought about taking hold of her hand but couldn't work up the guts to do it. Before he knew it, their group was in sight. Zach lay back with his hands behind his head and his mouth half open like he was sleeping. Butch Barrett and his buddies had disappeared. Joey acted like he didn't even realize they'd gone, and to his extreme pleasure Leah didn't mention them either.

Zach rolled on his side and propped his head up on one hand. “Hey, guys.”

“What took you so long?” It was the blond, Lucy, and Joey saw the anger in her eyes. “You didn't stop to kiss, did you?”

Joey's face blazed.

“Who do you think I am, you?” Leah scolded her friend, and by the look on Lucy's face, she wasn't expecting it.

As he rolled up his towel, Joey realized that his discomfort grew when other people were around. When it was just him and Leah, he was much better. Now he felt like a clod again, standing there in the midst of them all.

“Okay. Well. Bye.”

“You're going?” Zach got to his feet and slapped hands with Joey. “I better get home, too, but this was fun. Ladies . . .”

Zach bowed dramatically. “It was a pleasure.”

The girls smiled uncertainly at him. Joey couldn't even look at Leah in front of her friends. The thing with Lucy was too weird, so he gave half a wave, turned, and walked away with Zach beside him.

“Well,” Zach said under his breath as they walked toward the bike rack, “did you?”

“Did I what?” Joey couldn't help sounding annoyed.

“Kiss her, bro.”

“Zach, you think she's like that? I barely know her.” The thought scared him even more than it thrilled him.

“Well, her friend asked, so I don't know.”

“Well, she's not.”

“She's not, or you're not? Girls like to be kissed.”

Joey shot him a look. Everyone knew Zach had kissed Sheila Tibioni in the entrance to the food court at the mall. She was in eighth grade. Zach did it on a dare and had grown famous for it.

“I'm just saying.” Zach held up his hands in surrender. “It's not so bad. Once you do it once, it's no big deal.”

“Look,” Joey said, “I like her. I like just being around her.”

“So, ask her out, then. Did you ask her out?”

Joey grabbed the handles of his bike and yanked it free from the rack. “No, I didn't ‘ask her out.' What does that mean? Where am I asking her ‘out' to?”

Joey knew what it meant, but didn't want to talk like that.

“You just ask her to be your girlfriend. That's all. It's simple. You don't have to do anything. You're just ‘going out.' Then, you hang out together and text a lot.”

“That's crazy. Going out is like going out on a date, to dinner or the movies or something. We can't even do that.”

Zach shook his head. “I hate to break it to you, but that's what people do. Especially in seventh grade.”

“Well, we're not in seventh grade.”

“But we will be. Technically, after Thursday, we're seventh graders. Sixth grade will be over.”

The handgrips on Joey's bike grew slick and he realized it was from his own palms. “Zach, you're the best friend anyone could have—”

“No, you are.”

“Well, we both are, but I can't ask Leah ‘out.'”

“Why?”

Joey looked up at the sky. He didn't want to repeat Leah's words about being friends before going out because he didn't want to admit talking about it, even to his best friend. “I just
can't
.”

“Listen.” Zach put a hand on the seat of Joey's bike. “If you don't, trust me, someone else will. We'll be in junior high next year with kids from four other schools and a bunch of eighth graders. She's beautiful. Everyone's going to be asking her out, and if you don't, what's she going to do?”

Joey pinched his mouth so tight his head trembled. “I don't know. I can't help it. I'm scared just looking at her. I can't dance with her. I can't touch her. I can barely talk.”

Zach snapped his fingers. “I got it.”

“You got what?”

“I know exactly how to fix this.”

“How?” Joey held his breath.

“
I'll
ask her.” Zach put a thumb on his chest.

“What?” Joey couldn't believe what he was hearing.

“No, don't look at me like that.” Zach laughed aloud. “I'll ask her for
you
.”

“What? How?”

Zach shrugged. “I just will. I talk to her all the time. I'll just ask her, ‘Leah, will you go out with Joey?' I bet she says yes. People do it like that.”

Joey shook his head. “No. No way. You can't do that.”

“I can.”

“No.”

“Fine.” Zach threw up his hands. He let go of Joey's bicycle seat and removed his own bike from the rack a few spaces down. “You can only lead a horse to water. You can't make it drink.”

“I'm not thirsty.” Joey toed up his kickstand.

Zach stared at him. “You're dying of thirst. You just don't know it.”

Joey watched him pedal away. Before he rounded the corner of the pavilion, Zach looked back with a face that said he wasn't really mad. “Good luck with Coach Barrett! I mean it, bro. No way can that all-star team be without you.”

Joey gave him a victory
V
and mounted his own bike. He took the long way around the pavilion so he could get one last look at Leah. He was rewarded with a wave from her even as she sat there amid her friends. Joey waved back and felt a surge of energy for his ride home, traveling fast, fueled by the terrifying yet exciting thought of actually asking her out, as silly as it sounded.

At home, Martin greeted him just inside the door with sticky hands and cat hair. “Joey, Joey, Joey. Hug.”

“Martin, please. Your hands.” Joey couldn't help thinking that, again, his little brother knew exactly what he was doing.

“Joseph, you be nice,” their mother said without turning from whatever it was she had cooking on the stove.

“Mom, he's disgusting. There's something sticky and cat hair all over him.”

“Pork Chop!” Martin squealed.

“Yeah,” Joey said, looking around. “Where is Pork Chop?”

“Pork Chop bye-bye.” Martin opened and closed his sticky mitts.

“Oh, boy.” Joey could only imagine as he scooted past his little brother and bolted for the stairs to go up and change. Across from the stairs, in an oversized closet, was the room where the washing machine and dryer were. Joey had his foot on the first step when he heard a low mewling from the laundry room.

“Pork Chop?”

He pushed open the laundry room door and looked around inside. He must have been hearing things. He turned to go and heard it again, coming from the dryer. He yanked open the round door and there was Pork Chop, slathered in something brownish yellow that made Joey start to get sick until he smelled its sweet odor. Pancake syrup. The cat was doused in it and looking miserable. He gently closed the door.

“Mom!” Joey hollered on his way up the stairs. “I think Martin put the cat in the dryer!”

He didn't want to stick around and have to clean up, so he undressed quickly and got into the shower himself. He heard his mom calling his name but successfully ignored it through the sound of the spraying water.

“How was swimming?” his father asked when he sat down at the dinner table.

“Great.”

“Good.” His father bowed his head and they all said grace together.

“I don't know why Coach Barrett wants to talk in person,” his father said, spooning out some string beans before passing the bowl to Joey.

His mother put a chicken leg on his plate, then proceeded to cut one up into little bits for Martin's tray. “He's a strange bird if you ask me.”

“Decent baseball coach.” Joey's father talked around a mouthful of chicken, drawing a disapproving look from Joey's mom.

“You should just tell someone, that's all,” his mom said. “All this mystery nonsense. I don't like it. It's like when a store owner burns down his place for the insurance money and he wants to tell you all about the fire and how horrible the whole thing was.”

“How is it like that?” Joey's dad asked.

She held a forkful of beans at bay. “I don't know. It just is. Something fishy.”

Her words didn't do anything to help Joey. He could barely eat, and kept looking at the clock, urging the hands toward seven. His mom served slices of a strawberry rhubarb pie she'd made, and then Joey and his dad cleaned up while she gave Martin a much-needed bath upstairs. Joey's mom was still up there when Coach Barrett arrived, wearing his Blue Jays cap, maybe to show that he was there on official business. The coach seemed glad Joey's mom wasn't there, and the three of them sat down in the living room.