Mom and Dad said they’d try to reason with Kirk about it. Since when has reason solved anything in the world? Look at the United Nations. They’ve been trying to work problems out with reason for decades, and we’re no closer to world peace than we ever were.
That night I tried my own methods to convince Kirk to move.
“Kirk,” I said as we got ready for bed, “I haven’t told you this before, but there’s buried treasure somewhere in the office.”
Kirk pulled on his pajama bottoms and surveyed me skeptically. “What kind of treasure?”
“Gold and silver,” I whispered in awed tones. When he didn’t look impressed with this treasure, I added, “And Hot Wheels and flashlights and swords. If you move into the office, I bet you’ll be able to find it.”
Kirk’s eyes had grown wide when I’d mentioned the Hot Wheels, flashlights, and swords. They narrowed when I’d mentioned moving.
“How come Mom and Dad have never told me about the treasure?”
“They don’t know about it. It was left there by the people who owned the house before we did. They were pirates.” Actually, they were retired schoolteachers, but that’s the beauty of being the oldest. Kirk wasn’t around, so he couldn’t argue the point. I continued slowly, “I discovered a map for the treasure. I was going to find it myself, but if you agree to move to the office, I’ll give you the map.”
Kirk pulled on the top to his pajamas carefully. I knew he was thinking it over.
“And I’ll tell you another secret.” I looked under the bed quickly as I said this. “I’ve also discovered a bunch of monsters have moved into this room. I think I’d better stay here and fight them off so they don’t eat anyone.”
Kirk put his hands on his hips. “Uh-uuuhh.”
“Yes-huh.” I flung the closet door open quickly and jabbed my hand in the clothes a few times. “And they’re the kind of monsters that eat five-year-old boys.”
Kirk stuck out his chin defiantly. “You’re just trying to scare me so I’ll move out.”
I put my arm against the back wall of the closet and acted like I was being sucked in. “Oh no!” I yelled. “One’s got me now!”
Kirk let out a scream and ran down the hallway to our parents’ room. Which just goes to show you that if I ever was attacked by something, Kirk wouldn’t help me, so I shouldn’t feel bad about occasionally teasing him.
After a few minutes, Dad came into the room holding Kirk’s hand. He gave me a stern lecture about putting ideas into my brother’s head. I don’t know what Dad was worried about. If I could really put ideas in Kirk’s head, somewhere along the line the idea that he should move into the office would have stuck. But no dice. Kirk is more stubborn than all the United Nations put together.
* * *
On Monday morning Tony showed up at my locker with a list scribbled on his notebook. “I think Mr. Right needs an exciting hobby to make him more attractive. Which do you think sounds better—mountain climbing or scuba diving?”
“How about wrestling wild animals with your bare hands?”
“Yeah, that would be cool. Too bad I don’t have any big scars.” We had some time before school started so we walked toward the library. Tony kept looking at his notebook. “Maybe I should pretend I’ve done both. That would make me twice as attractive, right?”
I shifted my books from one hand to the other. “You’re not really going to tell people you’ve been mountain climbing and scuba diving, are you?”
“I hike. I swim. It’s technically not even a lie. Besides I researched both sports on the internet, so I’ll know what I’m talking about.”
We walked through the library doors and saw Serena, Rachel, and their friend Anna sitting at one of the tables. Brian Vanders was also there. He was a linebacker on the football team and a decent player at that, but I bet he couldn’t hit a home run to save his life. Still, all the girls sat listening to him talk, and from the looks on their faces it seemed he was doing a pretty good Mr. Right impersonation himself.
Tony was not daunted. Using his cool walk, he strolled up to the table and sat down. I followed, but not quite as smoothly. When I pulled my chair back, I rammed it into my shin. I sat down anyway and tried not to wince.
“Hi guys,” Tony said.
Everyone returned his greeting except for Brian. He just scowled in a smiling sort of way.
“We’ve been talking about concerts,” Rachel told us. “Do your parents let you go?”
“Maybe if it were a Pavarotti concert,” I said. The girls all looked at me blankly so I said, “My parents don’t like rock music. They listen to classical.”
Anna wrinkled her nose. “You don’t get to listen to rock?” Apparently this was a Mr. Wrong thing to do.
“I listen to it sometimes,” I said. I liked country better, but I wasn’t about to say anything else until I was sure it wouldn’t cause any more nose wrinkling.
Tony leaned back in his chair. “My parents don’t worry about me at concerts. They’re more worried about the other stuff I do, like mountain climbing.”
Brian looked skeptical. “You’ve been mountain climbing? Where?”
Tony glanced at his notebook. “Oh, lots of places. Like Mount McKinley.”
Serena’s eyes widened. “Wow, you’ve been to Alaska?”
Tony glanced at his notebook again. “Yes I have, because that’s where Mount McKinley is.”
“When did you go there?” Rachel asked.
“A couple of summers ago. My uncle took me. He’s really into climbing.”
I said, “You’re talking about your uncle Orville, right?”
“Right,” Tony said.
“Weren’t you really cold?” Anna asked.
“Sure, but it was worth it. Besides we had on really thick coats and boots and a lot of other technical mountain climbing stuff you’ve probably never heard of before.”
“Did you take many pictures?” Serena asked.
“Tons,” Tony said. “I was so mad when that bear ate my camera and ruined them all.”
Rachel gasped. “A bear ate your camera?”
Tony nodded solemnly. “You run into a lot of wild animals in the mountains.”
“How scary,” Anna said.
“How exciting,” Serena added.
“How far did you get up the mountain?” Brian asked.
Tony hesitated. I could tell he hadn’t researched this question. Finally he said, “Further than most people get.”
Brian leaned back in his chair and gave a casual shrug. “Why do it the hard way? If you want to see the top of the mountain why not just do what I’m going to do? Fly.”
Tony raised an eyebrow. “You’re sprouting wings soon?”
“No, my dad has his own plane, a Beechcraft Bonanza. He’s been giving me lessons. When I turn sixteen I’ll get to fly solo.”
All three girls cooed and then asked him things all at once. “What’s the plane like?” “How hard is it to learn to fly?” “Where are you going to go?”
Brian happily answered their questions until the bell rang. Then when everyone got up to go, he walked next to Serena out of the library. He smiled over at her. “Who knows,” he said, “maybe after I get my pilot’s license I’ll be able to take someone up with me.”
She looked back at him admiringly. “That would be so neat.”
“Remember to bring a parachute,” I said, but only Tony heard me.
The two of us headed down a different hallway than the others, but none of them told us good-bye.
As we walked, Tony shuffled his feet. “Dang. I knew I should have gone with the scuba diving.”
“It isn’t fair,” I said. “I bet Brian doesn’t even need an algebra tutor.”
Tony glanced over at me. “Brian did seem to be zeroing in on Serena, didn’t he?”
I didn’t answer.
“Well, you’re just going to have to be cooler than he is.”
“How could I possibly be cooler than flying an airpl
ane? You weren’t even cooler than Brian and your camera was eaten by wild bears.”
“Yeah.”
We walked in silence for a few more moments, and then Tony resumed his feet shuffling. “I’ll tell you one thing, when I do tell the scuba diving story there are going to be sharks in it, and lots of them.”
* * *
I figured that after being outperformed in the library, Tony would give his Mr. Right routine a rest. But at lunchtime when he sat down beside me, he leaned over and grinned. “Guess who I talked to all last period?”
“The chairman of the scuba diving club?”
“Rachel.” His grin got bigger. “Don’t you think she’s one of the hottest girls in our class?”
“Sure.” I hadn’t actually made a list or anything, but I suppose if I had, Rachel would have been on it.
“Did you ever notice that she wears eyeshadow?”
I ripped open my packet of potato chips and popped a few into my mouth. “No, I’ve never paid that much attention to Rachel’s eyelids.”
“Neither have I, but she said she just bought some new makeup yesterday. Get this: She has four shades of eyeshadow, and they’re all brown. Does that seem weird, or what?”
“It seems weird that you were talking about eyeshadow with her.”
“We talked about other things too. She loved the shark stories.” He looked thoughtful for a moment. “I think she really likes me, because, you know, she always laughs at my jokes. You can tell if a girl likes you by how much she laughs at your jokes. Rachel even laughs when I say stupid stuff.”
I wasn’t sure this was the best compliment you could give a girl, but I didn’t say anything. Tony was clearly the girl expert, so who was I to question his methods of judging them? I listened to him go on about Rachel, and he acted as though they’d been close for years instead of just on talking terms for the last few days.
“Oh, and I got an answer back from Serena too.” Tony took a long sip from his juice box to draw out the suspense. “She said that Serena said she thinks you’re kinda cute.”
“Kinda cute? That sounds like the way you’d describe a gerbil or something. ‘Kinda cute’ probably means she didn’t want to hurt my feelings.”
“Give yourself a break,” Tony said. “She likes you.”
“Oh.” I still didn’t believe him. I wondered if she’d ever describe Brian as being “kinda cute.”
“So go find her and ask her if she’ll help you with algebra.”
“You know, maybe I don’t need a tutor. Maybe if I agreed to wash Mrs. Swenson’s car every day, she’d give me extra credit.”
Tony gave me a blank stare.
“Or maybe if I shut myself in a room and pressed the book to my forehead the knowledge would seep out into my brain.”
“Or maybe a little man named Rumpelstiltskin will appear and offer to do your homework in exchange for your firstborn child.”
“I’d take it under consideration.”
“Ask Serena to help you with your algebra today,” Tony said. “Today.”
I sighed, and it was a deep and resigned sigh. “Ok. I’ll ask her.”
* * *
I only had two times left during the day that I was likely to see Serena: at PE, and wandering around the hall between classes. I tried to think of something preplanned to say to her. Something casual yet fascinating. Something which had nothing to do with the letters one did or didn’t use in algebra equations.
During PE we went outside to play softball. This was an incredible stroke of good fortune for me because the baseball diamond was my second home. I didn’t have to try and look cool with a bat in my hand. It happened naturally. It was the perfect way to impress Serena. And after she was sufficiently impressed, it would be easier to talk to her. I’d strike up a conversation about softball, she’d tell me how wonderful I was at it, then I’d say, “Yeah, but I’m lousy at algebra. I really wish someone would help me out with it . . .”
Luck was with me again when Mr. Gibson, our PE teacher, divided us into teams. Serena and I were on the same one. I didn’t manage to stand anywhere near her when we were batting—she hung in the back of the line by some other girls and the team insisted I be the fourth batter so I could hit everyone home, but I figured I’d have a chance to talk to her in the outfield.
When it was my turn at bat, the bases were loaded and the other team’s players all moved back. I love it when they do that. I hit the ball high and clear over second base. It would have been quite impressive if I had made it home, but the runner in front of me was being cautious and stopped at third. I couldn’t very well run over him, so I was stuck on second. Still, it was two runs. I looked at the line of batters to see if I could tell whether Serena was impressed or not. She was talking with Anna and didn’t seem to be paying attention to the game at all.
Later, when I made it home, I went and stood at the end of the batting line. Serena and Anna had mysteriously not moved up any since we’d started the game. As I stood by them, Serena said, “You can go in front of us, McKay. We don’t want to bat.”
She’d spoken to me. This was my opportunity to speak back to her, only I wasn’t sure what to say. “Why not?” I settled on, and immediately congratulated myself for not saying anything stupid.
“We don’t like baseball,” Anna told me.
“You’re in luck then, because this isn’t baseball. It’s softball.” Personally, I didn’t think this was a stupid thing to say, but Anna gave me a look which indicated she disagreed.
“Same thing,” she said.
“Come on, this is fun. I mean, how many other times in life do you get to hit something with a bat?” Talking to Serena was not nearly as hard as I thought it would be. This was actually going well. I could practically picture myself telling Tony about it. I’d sort of toss my head around like he always did, and then in the same casual tone he used, I’d say, “Yeah, I talked to Serena during PE today . . .”
Serena shrugged some of her long brown hair off of one shoulder. “I never hit anything at all. I always strike out. I’d rather just stay at the back of the line and hope Mr. Gibson doesn’t notice me.” She peered over at the field where our PE teacher was pitching the balls. “Is he looking over here?”
“I don’t think so.”
“Could you sort of stand in front of us, just in case?”
This is probably not the type of attention girls give to Sammy Sosa or Ken Griffey Jr., but at this point I was willing to take anything, so I stood in front of Serena and Anna while we continued to discuss the merits of baseball.
Me: It’s the all-American pastime.
Them: But it’s so hot out in the sun.
Me: It’s the greatest game ever invented.
Them(whining): And besides, we hate chasing after the balls.
We talked some more about athletics, specifically how Serena and Anna didn’t like to play or watch any sporting events. What do girls do in their spare time, anyway?
Our team got its third out, so we headed onto the field. As we walked Serena said, “McKay, do you want to still stand in front of us? That way if any balls come our way you’ll be able to get them.”
“I’m on second,” I told her. “But if you stand behind me, I’ll see what I can do.”
So Serena and Anna went and stood about forty feet past second base and tried to continue chatting without letting the game get in their way. And I was good to my word. The few times a ball was hit in their direction, I backed up into the outfield and got it. Once I even caught the ball to make our second out. All the runners had been wavering between bases while the ball was in the air, and then had to make quick backtracks after I made the catch. I fired off the ball to third and nearly got the runner out there too. It was a spectacular play. I’m sure Serena would have been impressed enough to help me with algebra equations right there on the spot if she’d been paying attention. Unfortunately she was speaking with Anna and seemed only vaguely aware we were playing softball at al
l.
This should have been my first clue that I needed to be careful when I ran around retrieving balls. I should have paid more attention to where Serena was standing. I shouldn’t have just expected she’d move out of my way.
When the next ball flew over second base, I saw my chance to make the third out. The ball was higher than I liked, and I knew I’d have to sprint to catch it. I took off running into the outfield, all of the time keeping my eye on the ball. That’s when the crash happened. I’m not sure which part of Serena I ran over first, only that suddenly I was on the ground in a tangled heap with Serena at the bottom.
At first I was so surprised I didn’t say anything at all, then I pulled myself up and said, “Are you okay?”
She said something like, “Uheergh,” which didn’t sound like a good answer.
Anna came and leaned over her. “Can you get up?”
“I think so,” she said, but she only sat up.
“I’m so sorry,” I told Serena. “I didn’t see you.”
About a dozen people, including Mr. Gibson, ran over to us. “Are you hurt?” he asked her.
“Just my knee.” Her face looked white, and she winced as she tried to straighten her leg out.
Mr. Gibson knelt down in front of her and examined her knee. “Where does it hurt?”
Serena bit her lip, and I could tell she was trying not to cry. “Everywhere.”
“We’d better get you to the health office and get some ice on it.” Mr. Gibson stood up and helped Serena to her feet. “Do you think you can walk if someone helps you?”
She nodded but she didn’t look confident.
Anna took hold of Serena’s arm. “I’ll help you.” And then half a dozen girls chimed in that they’d help too. They moved off the field in a great mass of sympathy.
Mr. Gibson blew his whistle and said, “All right, the rest of you get back to the game,” then followed after the girls.