Playing the Field

  When I woke up the next morning, I still had a sinking feeling every time I thought about Serena. I knew I had to talk to her soon. I was going to offer a real apology, and Serena was going to listen to me. Then, if she still wanted to be mad at me—well, fine, she could be mad, but it wouldn’t be because I hadn’t tried to patch things up.

  The only problem with this plan was that it was Saturday, and I wouldn’t be able to go to school and see her. This was probably the first day in my entire school career I woke up and wished the weekend was over. I stewed around all morning while I did my chores and thought of the things I ought to say to Serena and how I should word everything to best defend myself. By the afternoon I had quite a speech worked out. I was half afraid I’d forget it by Monday, or at least that I’d lose my nerve and not be able to talk to Serena at school. So I did a very brave thing. After I’d finished the last of the vacuuming, I got on my bike and rode over to her house.

  I stood on her porch for a few moments and went over bits and pieces of my speech. I hoped Serena’s father wouldn’t answer the door. I’d never met him, and I was afraid he’d be the overly protective type who didn’t like boys visiting his daughter. Maybe Serena had told her parents all about the note incident, and now neither one of them liked me. Finally I rang the bell.

  Serena’s mother answered the door with a smile. “Hello, McKay. Serena’s already left.”

  “Oh,” I said blankly. “Left?” I had been so prepared to offer some sort of defense on the doorstep that I just stood there looking at Mrs. Kimball, not sure what to do next.

  When I didn’t leave right away, Mrs. Kimball said, “I’m sure you could catch up with her. She’s right down the street.”

  She seemed to think I ought to know what she was talking about, and I didn’t want to admit I didn’t. “Oh,” I said again, and then, “Well, thanks.” I got back on my bike and for the first time noticed a bunch of kids down the street on bikes. I couldn’t tell who they were from a distance, but I slowly rode my bike in their direction anyway.

  I hadn’t planned to give my speech in front of anyone but Serena, and when I gave it to her she was supposed to be giving me her full attention. She was also supposed to have a sort of wistful look about her that would let me know that she was sorry we’d ever had this fight. I didn’t want to talk to her while she was with a group. I pedaled my bike a little slower. Maybe my speech could wait until Monday.

  Then again, I was already here. I might as well go down there and see what Serena was doing. I could pretend I was in this part of the neighborhood and casually go by. Then if Serena wasn’t busy, or surrounded by a lot of people, I might stop and say hi.

  When I got closer, I saw what was going on. The group of kids, which consisted mostly of half a dozen guys from our school, had turned a couple of empty lots into a bike jumping course. They’d built up some mounds of dirt and were riding their bikes over them. The lowest mound was probably only a foot and a half off the ground and the highest was three, so they didn’t look dangerous or spectacular, but the guys made a big deal about it anyway, whooping it up as they went over.

  Personally speaking, Tony and I had gone over bigger jumps back when we were ten years old and going through our stuntman phase. For a full year Tony and I were determined that one day we’d go to Hollywood and become professional stuntmen. We figured it would be best to get an early start on learning stuntman skills, so we’d jumped our bikes, practiced falling down the stairs, leapt off of Tony’s deck, and worked on an assortment of other stuntmanlike activities. My Mom finally put an end to our Hollywood ambitions when she caught us lighting newspapers in the street so we could run through them. I was grounded for a month and had to live with the threat that if I ever, ever tried to be a stuntman again, Mom would lock me in my room until I was old enough to pay for my own medical insurance.

  So anyway, I was not overly impressed by this bike jump course, or with the jumpers, especially since one of them was Brian Vanders. I stopped in the street a little way from everybody and watched them for a minute. I saw Rachel standing by one of the boys, talking with him, but I didn’t see Serena at first. Then I noticed her sitting on a half wall at the back of the lot. She had probably originally been watching Brian do jumps, but now she was watching me. She gave me a long look, not smiling but not glaring either. It was just a long look, then she turned her attention back to the group of boys.

  Tony, I suppose, would have known exactly what that look meant and whether it would have been better to stop now and try to make amends with Serena or whether that look meant it was better to stay on my bike and keep going. But I wasn’t Tony, and I didn’t know. I figured since she’d seen me, I’d better stop and talk to her. I didn’t have to issue my apology right now. I’d just say hi and be friendly.

  I rode my bike up to where Serena sat, but didn’t get off.

  “Hi, Serena.”

  She glanced briefly at me. “Hi.”

  I took a deep breath and tried to look casual. “How did you do on your algebra test?”

  “I got an A.”

  I waited for her to ask how I’d done, but she didn’t. “I got a B+,” I said.

  “Good. I guess you got all you wanted then.”

  I cleared my throat. “You know that’s not all I wanted. I mean, of course I wanted to raise my math grade and everything, but, well, you know what I mean.”

  Serena raised her eyebrows at me. “No, I don’t know what you mean.”

  “I mean that I never meant what I said in that note to Tony.”

  “Oh, really? Then you must have written that stuff because you were practicing your handwriting skills, right?” Her eyebrows were still raised.

  “No, Tony was giving me a hard time about you so I just . . .” I tapped my handlebars nervously. This was not at all what I’d planned on saying. “I never meant I didn’t like you. I just meant I didn’t like you, like picking-out-names like you, and besides, that was before I even knew you, you know?”

  She looked straight at me. “McKay, most of the time you make absolutely no sense.”

  Just then Brian rode up to us. He looked me over suspiciously, then turned and smiled at Serena. “Did you see that last jump?”

  “Yeah.” Serena beamed back at him. “It was great.”

  “I was airborne for probably five seconds.” He took a deep breath as though thinking about this great accomplishment took a vast amount of energy.

  Serena still smiled adoringly at him. “That must be really hard.”

  “You have to be in good shape.” He looked scornfully over at me. “It’s a lot harder than hitting a baseball around.”

  “Like you’d know,” I said back to him.

  “Hey,” Brian said, “if you think jumping is so easy, then why don’t you try it?”

  “I have tried it.”

  “Then show us,” he said.

  I glanced over at Serena to see what she thought of Brian’s challenging me like this, but I couldn’t tell what was going on in her mind. She was just watching me, waiting to see what I’d do next.

  “All right,” I said. “I’ll jump one of your stupid little mounds.”

  Somewhere in the back of my mind, I heard a voice, probably Coach Manetti’s voice, telling me this was a foolish thing to do. I didn’t listen. A guy didn’t walk away from a challenge like this, at least not while Serena Kimball sat there watching. Besides, I could make the jump. I knew I could.

  I rode my bike over to one of the middle sized mounds and got in line behind a couple of other guys. They hadn’t heard Brian’s challenge to me, but they didn’t seem surprised I’d joined in their line anyway.

  “Hey, McKay, you gonna jump?” one of the guys asked me.

  “Sure. I thought I’d give it a shot.”

  Brian was still over by Serena watching me. I guess he’d decided he’d better stick by his girlfriend in case anyone else tried to muscle in on her attention.

  The guy in front of me went o
ver the mound. He skidded a bit on landing, but all in all made a successful jump.

  So now it was my turn. I took a deep breath, checked to make sure my bike helmet was in position, then took off toward the mound. There was one small moment when I was in the air and felt myself coming down, that I felt a bubble of panic in my chest. But it only lasted a moment. Then I was on the ground and steering my bike back toward Serena and Brian. “See,” I shrugged. “Nothing to it.”

  “Well, sure, you went over the smallest jump,” Brian said—out-and-out lying, I might add. “Any fourth-grader could go over that one. Why don’t you try the big one?” He pointed in the direction of the three-foot mound.

  “Okay,” I said. “Right after you.”

  “No problem.” Brian got back on his bike and peddled over to the big mound. I followed behind him. He only paused for a moment in front of the mound, then got up his speed and went over. He was in the air for probably three seconds before his bike thumped back onto the ground. It wobbled, but he straightened it up and rode back toward me. “Your turn now.”

  “No problem,” I called back to him. I positioned my bike in front of the mound. And you know, it was funny, but as I sat there surveying it, the mound suddenly looked a lot bigger than it had before. I peddled toward it and scolded myself for being nervous. If Brian could manage to jump it, so could I. Then we’d see whether Brian was still gloating. I’d ride right back to him and Serena and say, “See, jumping your silly little mounds is tons easier than hitting a baseball. Hitting a baseball takes talent. Any idiot can ride his bike over a pile of dirt.”

  And that’s when I rode mine over. At the top of the mound I lifted the front wheel of my bike and flew through the air. It was a beautiful thing. It was how the baseball must feel as it’s soaring toward the outfield fence. And then I touched the ground. Literally. My bike landed, and for a second I thought I was going to be okay, but only for a second. My front tire skidded across the dirt. My back tire spun around like it was trying to get in front of me, and then suddenly I was on the ground with my bike on top of me.

  I’m sure it was a spectacular crash to all those who were watching—which unfortunately, was everybody.

  I don’t know what was worse. The pain that shot through my entire body, or knowing I’d just made a complete fool of myself in front of Brian and Serena. I lay on the ground for a moment to catch my breath. Before I was able to sit up, a couple of the guys came and hovered over me.

  “Are you all right, McKay?” one of them asked.

  “Oh, sure,” I said. “I’m just laying here admiring the dirt.” I sat up slowly and pushed my bike off of me.

  “Cool crash,” the other kid said.

  I stared back at him. “Yeah, cool.” He’d obviously been in one too many bike wrecks himself, and his brain was misfiring.

  I tried to ignore the sharp pains throbbing in my foot and leg as I stood up. I brushed dirt off of my pants and shirt, and was glad to see I didn’t have blood gushing from anywhere.

  At this point Serena and Brian came and hovered around with everyone else. She looked concerned. He looked smug.

  “Are you okay?” she asked.

  “Yeah, I’m fine.”

  “Your bike doesn’t look so good though.” Brian picked up my bike. Instead of pointing forward, the front wheel was bent sideways.

  “Too bad,” I said, “Or I could try that jump again. I’d have been able to land right if I’d timed my lift better.” I knew I couldn’t even walk let alone try another bike stunt, but I wasn’t going to let Brian know this. I would have hopped one-legged all the way home rather than ask him for help.

  “You almost made it,” Serena said. I knew she felt sorry for me.

  I bent over my bike and tried to bend the wheel straight. Serena must have noticed I was keeping all of my weight off of my left leg. She kept staring at me. “Are you sure you’re all right, McKay?”

  “I’m fine.” I had no idea how I’d make it home. Even if I hadn’t just pretzelized my bike, I doubt I could have ridden it. I imagined myself limping down the street while simultaneously dragging my bike behind me. I fiddled with the front wheel, because I didn’t know what else to do.

  “I don’t think you’ll be able to fix it,” Serena said. “And you also have a nasty scrape on your chin, McKay. You should call your parents to come and get you.”

  I put my hand on my chin. With all of the other pain throbbing around in my body I hadn’t even noticed my chin. Now it stung, and when I took my hand away there was blood on it. Great. Not only had I wrecked my bike, and in all probability broken my leg, I was now disfigured as well. Things just kept getting better and better.

  Serena must have remembered I didn’t have a cell phone. She pulled out hers. “Actually, I’ll call my mom. She’s closer. It will be faster.”

  I didn’t argue with her about that. I had no pride left, and I just wanted to go home.

  While Serena called, I returned to the task of fiddling with my front tire so I wouldn’t have to say anything to the other guys. They had already moved their bikes to another mound and were now cheering each other on to perform more acts of daring and stupidity. Brian was about to do another jump, this time only using one hand to hold onto his handlebars.

  “Hey McKay,” he shouted over at me. “Watch and learn from a pro!”

  I hoped he’d skid and fall and his bike would spontaneously explode when it hit the ground, but none of these things happened. It was a perfectly smooth jump.

  Not much later, Mrs. Kimball pulled up in their minivan. She looked me over, sighing, and put my bike in the back of the minivan.

  I staggered into the van after her. The whole way to my house, my leg throbbed. All I could think was, this injury is not going to go away any time soon. I would most likely miss our last three games. Coach Manetti was going to kill me. That was, if I didn’t kill myself first. How could I have done something so foolish? Right at the end of the tournament was not the time to think I could take on Brian Vander’s ego, my mortality, or the law of gravity. What had I been thinking? Well, I knew what I’d been thinking. I had been thinking about Serena, and I was going to stop thinking about her right now. Girls. Who needed them? They were nothing but trouble in eyeshadow. I refused to even look at Serena for the entire ride.

  When we pulled up to my house, I mumbled a thanks to Serena’s mom. She offered to help me inside the house, but I said I could manage, so she just unloaded my bike while I dragged myself to the door.

  Mom, to say the least, was surprised to see me in this condition. She didn’t even bother changing out of her Saturday cleaning clothes. She just put hydrogen peroxide on my chin and then drove me to the urgent care clinic.

  Chapter 13

  We had to sit in the waiting room for a long time, so Kirk tried to make me feel better by reading me stories. Mom always read stories to him when he was sick, so he was certain it would make me feel better too. He picked up a magazine and opened it to the first page. It was a car advertisement. “Once there was a family who went for a ride.” He turned the next page and saw an ad for soap. “They got dirty.” On the next page was a picture of a Timex. “Even their watches got dirty.” He looked up at me. “Do you feel better yet?”

  “Yeah.”

  “You’re still bleeding,” he said. “I’d better read to you some more.”

  He went through the whole magazine that way. The family in the story didn’t actually do anything, but they took lots of car rides.

  I finally got to see a doctor. He poked and prodded my leg and ankle—I apparently wasn’t in enough pain to begin with—then sent me for X-rays.

  After the X-rays were completed, I went back into the doctor’s office with Mom and Kirk to wait for the results. A few minutes later he came back.

  “You’re a lucky young man,” he said as he sat down. “It’s only a sprained ankle.” Then he lectured me about the dangers of jumping bikes and how I could have easily broken bones, gotten a c
oncussion, or something worse. He waved his pen at me and said, “I don’t ever want you to jump a bike again. You might not be so lucky next time.”

  “When will I be able to play baseball again?” I asked.

  “You won’t be able to run on that leg for a couple of weeks.”

  So when you came down to it, I wasn’t that lucky after all. I slumped in my seat. I didn’t hear anything else the doctor said. He gave Mom instructions of some sort, but I didn’t listen. Why should I? The next three games would decide the district title, and I wouldn’t be able to play any of them. I was going to miss everything I’d worked for during the last season. I’d let my team down. Life, basically, was worthless.

  I only remember one other thing which happened at the doctor’s visit. While I sat there and tried not to humiliate myself by doing something like crying in front of the medical staff, Kirk knelt down and surveyed my leg. After a moment he leaned over and gave it a quick kiss. Then he stood up and whispered in my ear, “I kissed it all better so you’ll be able to play baseball again.”

  Once I got home, I lay on the couch with ice packs on my leg and sulked. What I wanted was a miracle. I wanted all of the swelling in my ankle to suddenly go down, the pain to go away, and for it to not look purple and green anymore. I wanted to get up off the couch and practice ball with Kirk in the backyard. One lousy miracle was all I was asking for.

  I thought about calling Tony so I could have someone to complain to, but I didn’t dare. I didn’t want to have to talk to Coach Manetti. I dreaded telling him the McKay cannon had been defused. I dreaded hearing what he’d say. It was easier to lie on the couch and hope for a miracle.

  As it turned out, my mom made the call to the coach. While I was still on the couch feeling sorry for myself, I heard her in the kitchen explaining the situation to him. After she’d told him the news, a few moments of silence followed and then she said, “Mmmhmm,” and “We’ll see,” and then “I’ll tell him.”