Chapter 9

We’d agreed for Jordan to pick me up at Hanna’s house. The reasoning I gave them was that Jordan already knew where it was, so it made everything easier, but that wasn’t the actual reason I’d pushed for us to meet there. The real reason was, I didn’t want Rhonda to know where I lived. It hadn’t taken me long to figure out that people knew Oakdale was where the very poorest people in Wellville lived, and considering the rural and somewhat remote area, that was saying something. Worse, our trailer was one of the smaller and shabbier trailers in Oakdale.

I liked Rhonda, and she’d always been really nice to me, never bringing up or seeming bothered with indications of how poor Mom and I were. Considering Camille and her comments whenever something that would suggest how poor we were would show up, there was no way Rhonda wouldn’t have noticed them. Being sensitive about the situation wasn’t the same as having it put right in your face.

Rhonda had something of the social climber in her and always seemed to consider how her actions would look to those around her. I think that had her sister not pointed out my unusual upbringing and ties to music, she might not have given me a second look. I could, of course, be doing her a disservice. She might have been able to look past all of it, but I decided I didn’t want to chance it, hence the meeting at Hanna’s.

Thankfully, it hadn’t rained in a few days, so I didn’t have to worry about getting my clothes messed up crossing the creek. I timed it so I got to Hanna’s only a few minutes before it was time to meet them, which saved me the embarrassment of Hanna having to see how nervous I was. Had I been at home, I probably would have spent the entire time pacing by the front door while I waited for them.

Eventually, Jordan drove up, and I slid into the back seat with Rhonda which, as always, took time since I had to maneuver the stupid boot around and keep from hitting anything.

“Hi,” I said.

“Hi. Jordan won’t tell me where you’re taking me.”

“Good. It’s not a huge surprise or anything, but why spoil it?”

“Come on.”

“Nope, you’ll have to wait.”

“Fine, be that way.”

She was smiling, though, and took my hand. Jordan drove out of Hanna’s neighborhood and took us towards the main street. The bowling alley was part of a shopping area just off the freeway that included a few stores, some fast-food restaurants, and a motel. One of those areas you see that’s more geared for people driving through than the people who live nearby.

Still, considering the size of the town, without the freeway, most of these places wouldn’t be available to us, so it worked out that someone decided enough tourists were driving through to make it worth building. We were also close enough to the national park that some people would choose to stay at the motel instead of paying more for the ones closer. Even though it was a couple of miles outside of town, it still brought in some money and jobs for the city.

The shopping center had a small movie theater, fast food, and a restaurant in addition to the bowling alley, keeping Rhonda guessing until Jordan pulled in front of the bowling alley.

“Bowling?”

“Jordan told me you used to love doing it, and I figured this would be a better first date than a movie where we couldn’t talk and get to know each other better.”

“It’s great,” she said, putting her arms around my neck and hugging me before she excitedly hopped out of her side of the car.

Jordan rolled down the passenger side window and said to Rhonda, “I’m meeting a friend for a movie that starts soon. I’ll text you when we’re done.”

Rhonda just waved and took my hand as we walked into the bowling alley. She was almost skipping, although awkwardly considering my slower pace, as we went inside.

“Man, this is so weird,” she said, looking around as we got up to the counter. “I haven’t been here in forever. It smells exactly the same.”

I had to consider her judgment for a second at that last sentence. I’d already noticed the smell, a combination of old beer, feet, and some kind of unidentified food all meshing together. Of course, since she’d had happy childhood moments here, it was probably more nostalgia than anything else.

“Rhonda Haines?” the older woman behind the counter said. “My God child, look at you. You’re practically a grown woman now.”

“Hi, Miss Wilkerson,” Rhonda said, a little more sheepishly than she usually acted.

“And who’s this?”

“Ohh, this is Charlie. We go to school together.”

“I see,” she said, giving a knowing wink to Rhonda.

Now it was my turn to look nervous. Miss Wilkerson was probably a really nice person and definitely had those fun older aunt vibes. Still, I didn’t particularly want her to help make this date any more awkward than a first date would usually be.

“Well,” she finally said, getting the hint after neither of us engaged. “Let me get you, kids, some shoes.”

While she got her shoes, Rhonda and I discussed how long we actually wanted to bowl, since we could go by the game or by the hour. In the end, we decided to get an hour first and see how we felt after that. Jordan would need about two hours for a movie, so we could always get a second hour if we wanted too, or we could stop at an hour and walk over to one of the food places in the shopping center.

One thing I did like was the price. The board said it as ten dollars an hour per person or five-fifty a game per person. Still, Miss Wilkerson declared that as a returning customer, Rhonda’s first hour was free tonight. That was almost certainly not a real thing, but at ten dollars for the two of us, this date was coming off a whole lot cheaper than I ever expected it to, so who was I to complain.

“I should warn you, I’ve never actually been bowling before,” I said as we headed to the lane we’d been assigned.

“Really? I thought everyone bowled at least once. Like, with youth groups, or scouts, or church groups.”

“I wasn’t ever in any of those. We never stuck around most cities for more than a week at a time, so there wasn’t ever a chance to join anything. We stayed in state parks that allowed RV camping, and there aren’t a lot of bowling alleys in those. I’ve seen it on TV, so I get the gist. Take a ball, roll it down the lane, knock down the pins, and I think if you knock them all down, it’s called a strike.”

“There’s a lot more to it than that. First, we have to pick your ball.”

“Okay. Does it matter which one I pick?”

“Yes! When you hit the pins, the bowling ball will only touch some of them. The rest of the pins will get knocked down by pins being knocked out of the way by the ball, so it’s important to have a heavy ball. The heavier the ball, the more force it will put into the pins, giving the pins more force to knock over other pins, and so on. However, you don’t want a ball so heavy that you can’t give it enough power, because that’s worse than having too light a ball.”

“I’ll admit, that’s more complicated than I assumed.”

“Someone once told me that you wanted a ball about ten percent of your weight, but I just always picked up a bunch and found the one that felt right. Of course, I was a kid when I played the last time, so I’m going to have to figure out which one I want to use too. Let’s go.”

We went along the racks of bowling balls, picking them up, hefting them, and giving them light test swings. I ended up with a fifteen-pound sparkly blue ball. Rhonda said the nine-pound one felt the best, but then switched to a ten-pound ball at the last moment because it was pink. I didn’t ask, but I assumed that was an important factor in doing well.

“You seem really into this,” I said after we put our balls on the carousel thing and were putting on our shoes. “I’m surprised you stopped bowling.”

“I just got busy and didn’t have the time. School started taking more time, and I started cheerleading, which took a lot of time. Things got harder when I added tumbling classes in seventh grade. I had to pick some stuff to stop, and bowling was one of them. I’ll go first.”

That seemed strange to me, from what I knew about Rhonda. It seemed that if she really enjoyed it, she would have found a way to keep doing it. Jordan had made a couple of shots about Rhonda being all about her image, and that she’d stopped bowling because it looked uncool, but so far I hadn’t seen that from Rhonda.

I decided I would give her the benefit of the doubt, especially since we were only starting to get to know each other.

“Sure, show me how it’s done.”

She finished tying her shoe and went to pick up her ball. While I’d intended to watch her form, to try and get some idea of what she was doing, and maybe pick up a few pointers, I got distracted by how tight her jeans were. I could have sworn I only stared for a moment, but when I looked up, she was looking over her shoulder, smirking at me.

I swear I turned five shades of red. I’m not sure I’ve ever been busted so hard for staring at a girl’s ass before. Thankfully, her response was to wink and turn back towards the lane. It took every ounce of willpower I had to keep my eyes from traveling south again. I had to hand it to her, she had a fabulous ass.

Rhonda stepped forward, right leg slightly extended, and held the ball up to her face, what seemed like chin level. I couldn’t imagine she was actually aiming anything, but she was concentrating. After a beat, she took several steps forward, swinging her arm back behind her. She brought the ball forward in an arc and released, letting it sail down the center of the lane, catching the front pin dead center in the middle.

I was surprised that, instead of a strike, she managed to knock every pin down except for the ones on either far end, leaving a big gap between them.

“Damn, I’m so rusty,” she said, coming back to the carousel and waiting.

“I could have sworn you were going to knock them all down. You nailed that middle pin dead on.”

“That was my mistake, actually. You don’t want to have it go so straight. You want to roll it in at an angle, curving if you can, to hit between the first pin and the next row of pins. Hitting the middle pin gives you a good chance to get a seven-ten split, which is what I did.”

“Oh, I was sure you were getting a strike when I saw the ball going down the middle. Now you’re stuck.”

“You think so, huh?”

“I feel like I should say ‘there’s no way you’re going to be able to get both of those,’ but this feels like a trap.”

“Smart boy,” she said with a smirk. “Just watch.”

She picked her ball up again and lined up on one side of the lane. Going through the same routine, she sent the ball rolling again. This time it went down one side of the lane, catching the far left pin on the outside. I was amazed, although not surprised considering the building, to see the pin skid sideways across the lane and smash into the other pin, knocking them both down.

“And that’s how you pick up a split.”

“Nice. I guess now I get to show you how bad I’m going to suck at this. Just remember, I have other redeeming qualities.”

“I’ll try and keep that in mind.”

I went and got my ball. I couldn’t recreate her actions, since she’d taken steps forward to add power to the throw, and I couldn’t do that easily while wearing the boot. I hobbled up to the line in front of the lane, figuring I’d just muscle my way through it instead.

I held the ball up, still not sure what the purpose of this move was, and took a breath. Trying to keep in mind her advice to have the ball come in at an angle, I swung the ball in an arc I rolled it down the alley, only to watch it go directly into the gutters along the side and hit nothing.

Rhonda laughed at me as I hobbled back to the carousel.

“Not as easy as it seems, is it?”

“I didn’t think it would be, plus I did warn you,” I said as I waited. “I’d be happy for any tips you can give me.”

“I do love it when boys admit they need a girl’s help,” she said, getting up practically skipping up next to me as I retrieved my ball. “The lane is oiled so the ball will slide, which means a little bit of power in the wrong direction will give you a gutter ball. You only need a bit of a curve to get it to come in at an angle. You gave it too much, which sent it sliding the wrong way. Any angle you put on it should be subtle. Bowling’s a game of finesse, not power. The other thing is to make sure you follow your arm through straight to keep from shanking it accidentally.”