Chapter 21

The look I got from Tanya on Monday morning, when I claimed my seat in Religion, was one of pure contempt. Well, fuck her. I had already gotten the same treatment for Jill the day before. You'd think that after I had saved her from another asshole, albeit a much richer asshole than the last one, Jill would be a little grateful. But no, as far as she was concerned, she wasn't drunk at all, and if she wanted to parade around half-naked in front of strangers, that was her business. She was perfectly happy to talk with me about anything else, but she made it clear that the party was off limits.

The rest of Monday morning wasn't any better. Mr. Anson had assigned yet another history paper. We could choose any topic from 1900 through 1920, probably the most boring stretch of American History. Then there was another surprise astronomy quiz, and I knew for a fact that I hadn't aced it. Cammie told me after class that Jeanne was still taking her casting badly, and I dreaded having to talk to her at lunch. Dad had told me yesterday at dinner that the tension wasn't helping Tiffany any, and that he didn't see what the fuss was about, anyway. After all, weren't they both going to be in the play? Who cared who sang what?

I had pointed out, in all innocence, that if Dave and I were on the same football team and I'd been picked to be quarterback, Dave would be understandably upset. After he finished laughing at the idea of my being a quarterback, Dad just said that was different. He also told me to tell Jeanne he wanted the whole family back at the dinner table tonight. I kept my response to myself this time, which was, first of all, isn't that your job? And second of all, if you think the tension is bad now, just wait until Jeanne and Jill have to share a table.

So if Tanya didn't want to talk to me, that was fine. If she didn't want to sit at our table at lunch time, and instead preferred the company of her yearbook buddies, that was fine, too. As it was, I spent the whole time I was in the cafeteria arguing with Jeanne about coming home. It finally got so uncomfortable that we had to finish it outside in the school courtyard.

"Jeanne, you're going to have to rehearse with her, right?"

"Not if I quit."

"You're not going to quit."

"What makes you so sure?"

"I know you. You're not a quitter. You're gonna go there and glare at Jill for the entire rehearsal, and when she misses a note or a line, you're going to get this little smirk on your face."

She flushed a deep red.

"I'm a better singer than she is," she insisted.

"That may be," I said, watching her eyes narrow as I said it. "Look, I don't know anything about singing. Let's say you are."

"I am."

"Okay."

"It's not okay. You think she's better."

"I don't."

"You do. You think Collins picked her because she's better."

"And you think he doesn't care about how good the team is," I answered her.

"It's not a team," she retorted. "We're not trying to 'win.'"

"I know it's not a team," I agreed. Sort of. But Coach Torianni didn't have anybody playing because of who they were, or what he had promised them. If he could find a guy who could actually field second base, Coach would yank Eddie in a minute.

"Look," I continued. "All Dad wants is to have you back at the dinner table. I'm sure you can ignore Jill just as easily as you ignored me when you thought I was a sicko pervert back in January."

She gave me a crooked smile, her face suddenly softening.

"We were pretty mean, huh? Of course, for all you know, you could have been a sicko pervert before Christmas, right?"

"True," I smiled.

"What happened to Tanya, by the way? Why was she sitting with those girls?"

"We had a fight," I explained.

"About what?"

"I don't know yet," I confessed. Although I did have a pretty good idea.

That afternoon we had another home baseball game. I didn't have any fans there this time. Jeanne and Jill both had play practice, and Tanya simply didn't come. There were a lot of scouts, though, just as there had been at my two-hitter last week. And I gave them a pretty good show. I couldn't pitch, with only three days off since my last game, but I went four-for-four at the plate, with a double and a home run. Just like last week, though, what we lacked was clutch hitting. As soon as someone made it to second base, we started hitting grounders to the infielders. Cary pitched a pretty good game, but we ended up losing again, this time by a final score of 4-3. We were now only a game above .500, a far cry from the team that won the state championship last year.

Jeanne did come home that evening, closeting herself in her room as soon as she made sure that Dad had seen her. She also accepted a ride in to school with me. But it was a strange trip, with her ignoring Jill in the back seat and Jill bubbling away to me as I drove. Lunch on Tuesday was fairly tense as well, particularly since it was Tanya's second day away from the group. Dinner on Tuesday was only bearable because of Dave's announcement that he was going to start taking courses at the community college the following week.

Finally, on Wednesday, Tanya spoke to me after class.

"We need to talk," she said soberly.

I nodded, and we walked out together to the courtyard.

"You went back to the party," she said simply. "Debbie came up to me on Monday morning and said 'Sorry you weren't feeling well, Tawny. But thanks for sending Trick back."

"And it's a good thing I did go back," I responded.

She furrowed her brow.

"You call that a good thing?"

"I call saving Jill from Paul Scholl a good thing, yeah. I call hauling her drunk little ass back to the house a good thing, yeah."

"I didn't see Jill there," Tanya said suspiciously.

"You didn't see anybody who wasn't wearing a top," I pointed out.

"You mean Jill was topless?" she asked breathlessly.

I slowly nodded.

"How did you know she'd be there?"

"I know my sister," I said, truthfully if somewhat unresponsively.

"Why didn't you tell me that?" she asked.

I shrugged.

"I was angry. You were the one who said you'd be available whenever I wanted," I said. "Then I go to this party and see all these girls with the guys on the team, and my girlfriend — excuse me, my friend — says she wants to watch a movie by herself."

"So you're saying you want sex every weekend?" she asked.

Of course I wanted sex every weekend.

"No," I answered. "I just think you're being awfully possessive for someone who doesn't want to actually be my girlfriend."

"I know," Tanya sighed. "I'm sorry."

"Unless you actually want to be my girlfriend," I said hopefully.

"You know, I actually do," she said after a long pause during which she stared off into space. "And my parents really like you. But I can tell that my mother still wants me to find a nice Jewish guy, preferably a doctor, and have Jewish babies."

"But the babies would still be Jewish," I pointed out.

Her eyes snapped back to me.

"How do you know that?" she asked.

"Research," I said. Actually, I had run across it in a magazine article.
As long as the mother is Jewish, the kids are considered Jewish.

"I can't believe you looked that up," she leaned forward to kiss me on the cheek. "I am so lucky to have you as a friend. But it still wouldn't be enough."

I almost asked if she meant it wouldn't be enough for her or her mother. But I stopped myself just short. She took my hand and we walked toward the cafeteria. Along the way, we passed Kirsten Aaron, and when she saw Tanya's gaze pass unknowingly over her, she winked at me and ran her tongue along her upper lip. I quickly glanced over at Tanya to make sure she hadn't seen that.

By that evening, Jill and Jeanne had at least reached a sort of truce. We had all learned by that point to avoid the subject of the musical. Tiffany had asked about practice on Tuesday night, giving Jill an opportunity to rave about the chemistry she had with her co-star. Jeanne had simply grunted in response to Tiffany's attempt to draw her into the conversation. That evening, though, Jeanne stormed into my room to fume about Jill's lack of attention to the hard work of singing. And yes, she had good chemistry with her co-star. Robbie Thomas was probably the best-looking guy in the senior class. Anyone would have good chemistry with him. I sympathized as best as I could, but the analogy to baseball kept coming back. Why would this Collins guy put Jill in the lead role if she wasn't the best one for the part?

It was my turn in the rotation for Thursday afternoon's home game, and I was pleased to see that my fan club was back, even if they weren't all sitting together. Apparently today's practice was just for the guys in the play. Jeanne had explained that they were going to need a good bit more work, since the chorus was girls-only. So the girls, with some significant exceptions, according to Jeanne, like I-knew-who, already knew how to sing. They only needed to learn the play. The boys needed to learn to sing as well. That, she claimed, simply made it even more imperative that the girls in the play, such as, for example, Jill, treated their rehearsals with more seriousness.

I could tell that the rift bothered Tanya. She spent the first three innings with Jill, but then when they began to attract a group of eleventh-grade boys, she moved down to sit with Jeanne and Cammie.

It apparently bothered me, too, because I had one of my poorer days. I let in a run in the top of the fourth. It wasn't a really big deal, because we were already ahead 5-0 by the end of the third. But there weren't any errors to excuse this one. I walked the first guy up, and the next guy sacrificed him to second. I hit the third guy, and the fourth guy blooped a single into left field that scored the guy from second.

So with only one out, and men on first and third, that baseball genius Matt Denton sauntered over from third base.

"Everything okay, Trickster?" he asked as he neared the side of the pitcher's mound.

"What the hell do you want, Matt?"

"Just makin' sure you're alright."

"Because we can't afford to have both you and me letting in runs?"

"That was a tough chance," he said defensively, referring to the last ball that had gone just over his outstretched glove. "I haven't made any errors."

"Yet," I snapped. "Don't worry, Matt. We've got a big enough cushion even for a team with you on it."

"Everything okay, guys?" Tommy asked as he trotted out to the mound.

"Fine," I said. "Everything fine with you, Matt?"

"Asshole," Matt muttered.

"Matt's fine, too," I smiled at Tommy. "Now let's strike these next guys out, huh, buddy?"

I struck the first two out, and I got the third to hit a pop fly to the infield. The ball was drifting toward third base, but it was my call as to who would field it. I screamed out Rabbit's name, and he easily made the play. Matt just glared at me as we walked back to the dugout.

We got two more runs in the bottom of the fourth, and four more in the fifth, giving us our first mercy-rule win of the season. Coach called me into his office after the game, though, to ask what Matt and I had been talking about.

"Matt wanted to discuss my pitching," I told him.

"And?"

"And I thought we should discuss his fielding instead."

"He did okay today," Coach said.

"Yeah, I know." He had only had one chance after his grounder, an easy play to second base to end the top of the fifth inning.

"You're the captain, Trick," he said. "You've gotta keep the team together, not push 'em apart."

I left after that. On the one hand, it was true. I was supposed to be the captain of the whole team. But on the other hand, of all the things Matt Denton ought to be worrying about, my pitching was the last thing on his list. I may have finally lost my no-Earned Run Average, but not by much. Still, I mumbled an apology on my way out of the locker room, and Matt mumbled something back.

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A Stitch in Time

Marsh Alien

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