Teen Angel (17 page)

“WHAT THE FUCK IS THIS?” Orlando screamed.

“Strike two,” Keith said without emotion.

Ruben shook his head. He would have to play with a bunch of fucked-up spies. He’d probably never even
get
to bat.

Orlando hit the ball and made it to first base. He mooned Keith.

Sonny and D.B. began giggling until they saw it was Ruben’s turn at bat. He picked up one bat, dropped it, then picked up another and took several practice swings.

“THAT’S OUR MAN, HE’S AT BAT. WE’RE GONNA CHEER HIM. WHAT DO YOU THINK OF THAT!”

“SHADDUP!” Ruben hollered at Sonny and D.B. “I can’t concentrate with all that shit!”

He stood at home plate. It was up to him. If he struck out, that was it. Those black motherfuckers would gloat and call them a bunch of queens who can’t even swing a bat. Perspiration poured down Ruben’s spine. His eyes locked with Keith’s.

Keith tried his curve ball but it turned too early. BALL ONE. He tried it again and the same thing happened. BALL TWO. Ruben continued to stare into the very whites of Keith’s eyes. BALL THREE. This was ridiculous. He didn’t want to be
given
a base. He realigned his body, moved his shoulders, shook his wrists, and posed himself at home plate.

Keith sent a hard ball and Ruben went for it. He brought the bat back and swung in a full arc, hitting the ball past third base. Then he ran the bases, hard and fast, screaming at Orlando, “MOVE YOUR ASS!” Orlando came home while Ruben got to third base before Keith sent the ball home.

“THAT’S OUR MAN … ON THIRD BASE. WE’RE GONNA CHEER TILL WE’RE BLUE IN THE FACE.”

Ruben ignored them. Who would send him in? “No!” Ruben cried.

Jose-Angel Michelangelo was at bat. He was only half Rican. His old man was a guinea so he had no brains times two. Jose-Angel was short and greasy as an eggroll.

Keith stepped back and threw a ball that veered several feet to the right of Jose-Angel’s shoulder. He swung for it and missed.

“STRIKE ONE.”

“Hey, man,” Ruben hollered from third base. “Wait for your goddamn ball! Not this shit!”

He swung for the next ball and missed. And the one after that, and missed it too.

“TWO OUTS.” Who was up next? Ruben felt like weeping.

It was Hector Perez, a blue-eyed spic who thought he was gorgeous. He was always bumping into things because of the imaginary mirror he carried in front of his face. He took out a comb and fixed his hair.

“Hey, it’s Mr. America,” Laurence Williams jeered.

Ruben groaned. He would
never
score.

Keith sent him a ball that went straight over home plate. Hector didn’t swing for it. “STRIKE ONE.”

“What’s the matter? You need glasses?” Orlando screamed.

Hector took several practice swings and waited for the next ball. Ruben paced back and forth across third base.

Next Keith threw a fastball that Hector went for and missed, by several feet. He recombed his hair.

“STRIKE TWO.”

“Hey, lend me your comb …” Gigi Taylor taunted.

Hector ignored him. And not only did he miss the next ball Keith sent him, he fell over his own feet.

“THREE OUTS. GAME.” Keith announced. “Twelve-eight, ours.”

“Rematch. We challenge you to another game,” Ruben said, running over to Keith. “Same time, same place. Tomorrow.”

“Sure,” Keith said. “We ain’t prejudiced.”

“You’re nothing but a bunch of jungle bunnies,” Orlando screamed.

“Spic, move your ass–” Gigi began.

Ruben kicked Orlando in the shins. “Shut your face, huh?” Then he turned to Keith. “Tomorrow,” he said.

Ruben grabbed his jacket and zipped it up. Miguel took a bat and two gloves. He shook his head at Ruben. “Some game.”

“No shit,” he said. They talked to the other guys and planned a practice meet before tomorrow’s game. Then they joined Sonny and D.B. “STRIKE UP THE BAND, LET’S GIVE THEM A GREAT BIG HAND …”

Sonny looked at Ruben and knew he was miserable. That was the trouble with team games. Even if you knew what the hell you were doing, the rest of your team might not. When she was on the spelling bee team for school, there were all these dunces that got out on words like
pneumonia, chrysanthemum, amoeba
, and
occasion
. At least, she got out on
facetious
, which she spelled
phacetious
.

“You were really good,” D.B. said to Miguel. Then they began to make out.

“You played a good game,” Sonny said sympathetically.

“It was shit,” Ruben said, sitting down next to Sonny. “Shit.”

“You couldn’t help it if you were playing with a bunch of losers,” she said. ‘The combined IQ of your team was under fifty.”

Miguel turned and looked up at Sonny.

“You played a good game too.”

D.B. ran her fingers through his hair. “I thought it was a
terrific
game.” The way she said it, though, made it sound like it had nothing to do with softball. “Sexy too.”

“Let’s not talk about it,” Ruben said. “Okay?” He leaned back and put his head in Sonny’s lap. She wondered if she had to be nicer to him because he had suffered defeat. Like a nurse in the war movies.

“So what happened to your face, slugger?” he asked.

“Well, I fell on this sharp toy of my brother’s. You know those wooden blocks that snap. He was building this big–”

“I don’t believe this,” D.B. interrupted. “Sonny, you are too much.”

“What did he build?” Miguel asked.

“I get it,” Ruben said. “Your old lady didn’t dig you cutting out of school and–” He made a fist punching the air.

Sonny nodded her head.

Ruben grabbed her around the waist. “Where does it hurt?” He kissed her lightly on the cheek and then on her chin. Even though Sonny enjoyed it, she wrestled him off of her. She didn’t want him to think she was
easy
or
horny
or a
nymphomaniac
.

“Stop it,” she said, giggling uncontrollably.

“Oh, not this again,” he said, grabbing for her again, but she moved out of his reach. “Come on, Sonny …”

Miguel and D.B. sat watching them. She began to feel like maybe she was coming off like a
prude
which was worse than being a
tramp
. So she let herself be held the third time Ruben tried. But she wriggled uncomfortably. Yawned. Cracked up.

“Have you ever played Do You Trust Me?” Ruben asked.

Sonny shook her head.

“Sure,” D.B. said. “Tons of times. It’s no big deal.”

“You want to do it?” Ruben asked D.B.

She looked at Miguel. “Have you ever played?”

“Is that the one where the guy puts his hands on the girl’s shoulder and keeps moving it down until she says no?” he asked slowly.

“Yeah,” D.B. said, “and girls can do it to guys too.”

“Yeah?” Miguel said, his eyes growing large with wonder.

“Yeah,” D.B. said. “You want me to start?”

“Sure,” Sonny said hastily. “Maybe then I’ll have a better idea how this game works.” She was stalling. So far she was untouched. Totally. Not even on top of her clothes. But she was
no prude
.

D.B. put her hand on Miguel’s shoulder and said, “Do you trust me?” She caressed his neck.

“Yes …” he answered.

She proceeded to move down the right side of his body, stopping every few inches and asking coyly, “Do you trust me?”

He was breathless with excitement and just kept nodding his head.

“Do you trust me?” D.B. asked as her hand moved from the waistband of his pants and stopped one inch below, on his stomach. “Yes,” he whispered. D.B. moved her hand over his stomach and stopped one inch above his crotch. “Do you trust me?” “Yes,” Miguel groaned. Sonny looked at Ruben, who returned her glance with a seductive smile.
What was she going to do?

D.B. dropped her hand one-quarter of an inch and made a right detour from his crotch area. “Do you trust me?” she asked. Miguel looked down at himself and gasped. A spot was beginning to form right
there
on his tan chinos. He closed his eyes. D.B. continued, passing by his genitals and moving down his leg. “Do you trust me?” she asked as she took a leap down his right leg, totally bypassing
it
.

Miguel opened his eyes. “Wha’ happened?” he asked. D.B. worked her way down his pant leg and the game was over for her–and Miguel looked like he had an incredible case of blue balls.

“I gotta take a leak,” he said, getting up.

“Use your left hand,” Ruben called. “It’s like being with a stranger.”

He went behind the bushes.

“See, it’s easy,” D.B. said.

Says who?
Sonny wondered if she should do it to Ruben first and then maybe it would get dark and they’d have to split. But she had never touched a guy more than hold his hand. She couldn’t imagine even going near
it
.

When Miguel came back, he said, “I had to go so bad.” He smiled like he had taken a crap in his pants.

Ruben nodded to him knowingly. “I’ll do it,” he said, “to Sonny.”

She swallowed a ball of saliva the size of a crumpled tissue and
felt like one of those sacrificial lambs in a Bible movie with Victor Mature playing a slave but he was really a Hebrew.

“Open your jacket,” Ruben said. She did.

He leaned back to have room to maneuver. Sonny took a deep breath.
Oh, shit, I’m shaking
. He put his hand on her neck. “Do you trust me?” “Yes,” Sonny said, watching his hand from the side of her eye. He moved his hand down to her shoulder. “Do you trust me?” She nodded. He moved his hand down two inches, right above where her tits would officially start if she ever got them. For the time being, it was just skin. Sonny said yes. He moved another inch but veered right of her nipple. “Do you trust me?” She sighed from relief. “Yes.” The trick was to be neither a tramp nor a prude. And how were you supposed to do that?

Ruben’s hand continued moving down her body, but for the moment she was safe. He had passed one danger zone and there was still time until he reached Numero Uno. “Do you trust me?” he asked as his hand rested on her waist. She nodded. Now he began the long trek over her skirt, stopping every inch. Sonny’s stomach began to tighten into a fist. “Do you trust me?” he asked as his fingers hovered just above
it
. He wouldn’t, she thought. He’d pass right by it like a bird who didn’t crap on your head, even though it could.

The next thing Sonny knew, he had his filthy paw on
it
.
IT! She wasn’t even supposed to touch it and it was hers
. Ruben’s fingers rested on her most private part.
Her red velvet box!
Her treasure. “Do you trust me?” he asked, looking into her eyes with his smiling, powerful eyes. “No!” she said, throwing his hand off of her. “I don’t trust any of you!” she screamed as she ran away, holding herself like someone who had been shot between the legs.

Ruben caught up to Sonny. He grabbed her by the wrist but she jerked her hand out of his. “Go away! Leave me alone!”

“Listen, I’m sorry. Really I am. I didn’t know you’d get so upset.”

“I’m not upset,” she said. “Just leave me alone.” She continued walking fast.

“Don’t be like that,” Ruben said. “It was just a game.”

“I don’t like that game. Now will you just beat it?”

“Come on,” Ruben said, running ahead of Sonny so she would be forced to stop. “Wait a minute. Could we sit down? Huh?”

Sonny looked down on the ground which had a couple clumps of grass but mostly dog turds, beer cans, and broken glass.

“Here,” Ruben said, taking off his jacket and laying it down on the ground.

Sonny looked at him. Now he was playing the gentleman.
Sir Lancefart
. She sat down on the ground next to his jacket. She didn’t want to owe him a thing.

“I put it down for you to sit on,” Ruben said.

“I don’t want anything from you.” Sonny stared at her nails, a couple walking past them, the clouds moving overhead, then fastened her eyes on an empty bag of Wise potato chips on the ground.

“I said I was sorry …” Ruben mumbled.

“What’d you say?”

“I said I was sorry,” Ruben repeated, louder. “I was just kidding. I didn’t know you were so sensitive.”

Now he was making up to her. C-R-A-P. That’s what a guy’ll give you. They’ll say anything for a feel.

He put his arm around her. “Are you mad?”

“Dogs get mad. People get angry,” Sonny said, repeating what some teacher told her ages ago. “Bug off.”

“Come on, Sonny. Stop playing hard to get.”

“I’m not playing anything,” Sonny said. “For your information, I’m not a prude. I just want a guy to respect me.”

“I respect you,” Ruben wailed. Now he sounded like such a first-class asshole. All you had to do was get pissed at a guy and suddenly they begged and groaned. Anything for some skin.

“Then get your greasy paw off me,” Sonny said, smiling to herself.

“If that’s how you feel,” Ruben said, starting to stand up, “let’s just forget about it. I’m not gonna beg, you know. I have pride too.”

“Okay, okay,” Sonny said, grabbing his hand. “Sit down. God, I just didn’t know you were so
sensitive
.”

Ruben grinned at her crookedly.

“How come your mouth looks so funny when you smile?” Sonny asked. “It always sort of falls off to the side. I never noticed that before.” She peered at him curiously.

“I’ll tell you about it but keep it to yourself. Okay?”

“Sure.”

“This is what happens when I smile normal.” He smiled,
revealing that one of his front teeth was missing. There was a big black square hole in the center of his mouth like when you painted one of your teeth with black eyebrow pencil on Halloween.

Sonny cracked up. “That’s hysterical. How did it happen?”

Ruben quickly shut his mouth tightly. “I don’t think it’s so funny.”

“It’s hysterical!” Sonny said. Then she noticed Ruben’s hurt expression. She bit her lip to stop laughing. “How’d you get it?”

“I was in this fight, see? This, uh, heavy dude and me …”

“Was that when you were a Black Puma?” Sonny asked.

“Yeah. Anyways, we were warring with this gang in the Bronx called Snake Eyes.”