The League

Toby Wheeler: Eighth-Grade Benchwarmer
Roy Morelli Steps Up to the Plate

“What do you want to see?” I asked Evan outside the movie theater. My mom had just driven away, and Evan’s dad was going to pick us up afterward.

Evan lived next door and was in eighth grade like me, but she went to a different school. She had brown eyes, long dark hair in braids that fell just below her shoulders, and dimples that came out of nowhere whenever she smiled. Her feet had tan lines from the flip-flops she had been wearing since the sun came out in late March. Now it was late May, which meant summer vacation would begin in less than a month.

“Whatever,” she said. “As long as it isn’t rated R, sold out, or something I’ve already seen.”

Evan was wearing baggy gym shorts and a long-sleeved T-shirt, which was typical since she was always coming from or going to some practice—today it was lacrosse. She bit her lower lip as she stared at the list of movies. I always liked the way her nose scrunched up when she did that.

“And nothing with
love
in the title,” I added.

“Or anything longer than two hours,” said Evan. “I need to be home by six o’clock so I can eat dinner before lacrosse practice.”

That left only one choice: a baseball movie. I’d been wanting to see it anyway. I was on a baseball team this spring. I’d chosen baseball because I thought it might get Dad off my back about playing golf. He had been pushing me to get better so we could play together more often.

“How about
Swing and a Miss
?” I asked.

“Yeah, okay, I guess. But get ready to pay up if I don’t like it.”

That was the deal Evan and I had. Whoever picked the movie had to buy the other person’s ticket if the movie stank. Luckily Mom and Dad gave me money for every A on my report card. I’d earned enough to fill up a jumbo peanut butter container I kept on my desk.

“It can’t be worse than
Surf’s Up
,” I said while we were waiting in line.

Evan patted her heart twice. “That was my bad.”

It was my turn at the ticket window. “One for
Swing and a Miss
, please,” I said, passing my money through the slot to the woman in the booth.

“Child or adult?” the woman asked.

“Adult,” I said, grinding my teeth. I wanted to put my face up against the glass and yell,
Can’t you see I’m in the eighth grade!

The woman looked surprised as she counted out my change. “How old are you?”

“Fourteen.” I hated these conversations. I wished I looked my age. Knowing Evan was standing right behind me didn’t help.

I held out my hand and took the money from the woman.

“You look younger,” she said.

“Thanks,” I said, even though it wasn’t a compliment.

Evan didn’t say anything as we went inside the lobby. Maybe she hadn’t heard my conversation with the woman in the ticket booth. Still, I just wanted to get to the dark theater, where nobody could see me.

At the snack bar, I got a small bucket of popcorn and a soda. “Are you getting anything?” I asked her.

Evan pointed at the bucket. “Can I just share with you?”

“You don’t want to get your own? This is a small.”

Evan tilted her head and fluttered her eyelashes. “Wyatt, you’re supposed to share your popcorn when you bring a girl to the movies.”

I felt my face turn red. “You mean like a date?”

I had never been on a date with a girl, but if I ever went on one, I hoped it would be with Evan.

“I wish this was a date, buddy,” said Evan. “I’d make you buy me a jumbo bucket and a large soda and some gummy bears. Then I’d throw up all over you.”

“If you did that, I’d make you buy me a new shirt.”

“Lucky for you we’re just friends,” Evan said.

I am lucky
, I told myself as we left the concession area.
I am at the movies with Evan Robinson, and nobody else can say that
.

We had some time to kill before the movie, so we found a free table in the café above the lobby. We could see all the people below coming in and out of the theater. On the wall next to us were posters for upcoming summer movies.

Evan gasped and pointed to a poster for
The All-Star
. There was a girl in a football uniform holding a helmet. “I totally want to see that,” she told me. “Opening day, we have to be first in line.”

“What about
Dr. Pirate
? That looks hilarious. Do you think he operates on people with the hook?”

Evan laughed. “Now I have to know.”

“And
Invasion Earth Two Three-D
,” I said. “We have to see that too.”

Suddenly Evan kicked me under the table. “Wyatt, check it out!” she whispered, even though it was too loud in the café to hear other people’s conversations. “It’s Brian Braun.” She pointed to a guy in the lobby wearing cargo shorts, a dark green T-shirt, and a backward baseball cap.

“Brian Brian?”

“Brian
Braun
,” said Evan. “He’s basically the best quarterback ever from Pilchuck. He broke like a million passing records last season. He could probably go pro.”

I watched as Brian led his friends across the lobby to the theater entrance, where he greeted the ticket taker by slapping his hand. He gestured to the pack behind him, and the guy let them all pass without handing over any tickets.

“He didn’t even pay,” I said, becoming instantly jealous of Brian Braun. He was tall. He had a lot of friends. He got into movies for free. And Evan was paying attention to him.

“That’s what being good at football gets you,” Evan said. She jumped up like a cheerleader. “Come on, let’s go down there.”

“You want to talk to him?”

“I hope I don’t make a fool of myself.”

Too late
, I thought, following Evan to the lobby. She turned to me as we hustled down the stairs.

“If we see him, I’ll tell him you’re my little brother.”

“Gee, thanks.”

Evan reached the bottom of the stairs. “Sorry, but you know he’ll never believe we’re twins.” She stood on the tips of her toes but didn’t see him.

“You could always tell him you’re adopted,” I said as we went to the theater to get seats. I was happy Brian had vanished, but as we sat down, I knew that as far as Evan was concerned, he might as well have been sitting next to us.

Evan sighed. “I can’t get him out of my mind.”

“It’s only been five minutes.”

Evan opened her eyes wide. “Can you believe we’ll be at the same school in three months?”

Wow
, I thought.
I guess I’m not the only one looking forward to walking down the hallway together
. “Actually, it’s more like two and a half.”

“Even better,” Evan said. “I hope my locker is close to his. No, I take that back. I hope it isn’t. Or maybe close, but not too close.” Then she leaned over, reaching into my bucket of popcorn. “May I?” she asked, already feeding herself a handful.

“Just don’t eat too much and barf on my shirt,” I said, feeling a bit sick to my stomach knowing that Evan would rather be sitting next to Brian than me.

She reached over and pinched the sleeve of my T-shirt. “That wouldn’t cost me much,” she said. “Probably less than the bucket of popcorn. Unless you put on something nice, like for a date.”

“I don’t have anything nice except a suit.”

Evan laughed. “If you ever go on a date, you have to promise me you’ll wear a suit.”

“Deal,” I whispered as the movie started. “But only if you promise to stuff yourself and barf.”

“Pinky swear,” Evan whispered back. She held out her right pinky and curled it around my left one. The moment lasted only a few seconds before Evan let go to drive her hand into my bucket of popcorn.

About ten minutes into the movie, I knew Evan was going to make me pay for her ticket.
Swing and a Miss
had nothing to do with a strikeout. The main character was named Swing, and Miss was the daughter he never knew who showed up at his house one day. The whole movie was about him taking her shopping and her teaching him how to dance. They never played baseball.