Eternal Spring A Young Adult Short Story Collection (16 page)

Reyna lifted her head unphased and continued walking toward
the back of the class where all the stinky—literally stinky—boys
were found.

"You can sit here," I said, offering the empty
seat next to me. I heard my voice before I even thought the words.

Reyna looked at me and smiled. Suddenly my mouth went dry
and my legs turned to putty. Thank goodness I was sitting down.

After taking the seat next to me, she asked what I was
reading. At least, I think that's what she said. The rest of class was a blur.
All I remember was meeting her for lunch later that day.

"Why are you being so nice to me?" she asked as we
shared a table in the cafeteria.

I shrugged. I really didn't know why. I had never sat with a
girl at lunch. Ever. Something about Reyna just felt right though.

She smiled again and I felt that funny feeling. If she kept
smiling at me like that, I might not be able to walk again. "That's okay.
You don't have to explain. I don't think I've ever eaten a meal with a white
person before. I just feel comfortable with you, though."

"You mean, you don't know any white people?"

She shook her head. "I've spent most of my life in
Puerto Rico."

"You're Spanish? You're black and Spanish, just like
Roberto Clemente."

She started babbling rapidly in Spanish. When she noticed my
confused look, she stopped short and covered her mouth. "Oh, I'm sorry. I
was just really excited you knew about Roberto Clemente. I love baseball."

A girl who loved baseball? This was going to be an amazing
friendship.

Just then, my cell phone buzzed. Cell phones weren't exactly
allowed at Charleston Prep for most people. But I was Scott Kincaid. I wasn't
most people. A lot of exceptions were made for me.

I dismissed the call and stuffed the phone into my pocket. I
couldn't deal with my mother right at that point. She was probably just calling
to yell at me for not finishing my workout that morning or to remind me to run
extra laps after school.

"You don't want to answer that?" my new friend
asked.

I rolled my eyes. "It's just my mother. She'll have
plenty of time to yell at me later. Right now, I'm trying to eat."

Reyna looked concerned. It was like she could somehow sense
the pain in the relationship between my mother and me.

"In my village in Puerto Rico, there was an old woman nicknamed
La Cienega who once told me that someone can only make you unhappy if you let
them."

I thought about this for a second. No one had ever put it
that way before. And three different therapists had tried.

"Is that why you were able to smile, even though those
girls in class rejected you?"

"That wasn't my smile. That was La Cienega's
smile."

I looked at her, confused.

"I'll tell you about her later. Not today. You're not
ready. You'll just think I'm weird."

She was right about that. I did think she was weird. And
different. And exciting. And unique. She was the most fascinating person I had
ever met in my life.

Top of the Sixth

We fail to score in the bottom of the fifth. Now it’s my
time to go out and keep my perfect game going. As I walk out to the mound, I
feel that maybe I’m still that superficial kid from the sixth grade. I like to
think that I’ve changed a lot, that my friendship with Reyna has made me a
better and deeper person. But sometimes I’m not sure.

Now is a good example.

What am I doing here? This is just an exhibition game. It
really means nothing in the long run.

I throw a strike. The batter doesn't even swing. He expected
me to throw high and away, like the last time he was at bat. But this is why
I’m so good. I have so many pitches in my artillery, they never know what to
expect from me. I have an awesome slider, curve ball and even a knuckle ball.
And don't get me started on my fastball. I've already broken the high school
record for fastest pitch ever thrown.

I retire the first batter then look out into the crowd. I
carefully avoid my mother's eyes. I don't know what to expect from her. Yes,
I'm winning the game, but sometimes winning isn't enough for that women. I know
she wants this perfect game. It's not like I’ll get a trophy or anything for
her to add to my side of the trophy room at home. Although I could totally
imagine her going to a trophy store just to create one for me.

My mother wants this so badly because of the publicity it
will bring. I know she thinks it’ll help me get signed with a team. But I'm
only a sophomore in high school. There’s no telling what can happen between now
and when I graduate. And what if I get injured or something? One stinking ACL
tear, and my career is probably over. I shiver at the thought. I don't know
what I'd do with myself if I wasn't able to play sports. I love sports, but
always having to win is starting to wear me down, like tires on a racecar. It's
too much pressure. Besides, I want to go to college anyway first before jumping
into professional sports.

Instead of looking at my mother I look in the stands at
Kimberely Mierson, my current girlfriend. Why isn't Reyna my girlfriend? I'm
not sure. Maybe I'm too afraid to lose her friendship. Or maybe I'm just plain
afraid.

The rest of the inning is a blur. I throw six strikes so
fast that my arm gets a little sore. I know better than to rub my shoulder in
public though. Besides it being bad luck, my mother would be in the dugout
before I could say 'Bengay,' making sure I was okay and demanding the trainer
give me something so my performance doesn't suffer.

Instead of massaging my shoulder I plopped down in my seat,
crossed my arms and closed my eyes. Then I thought about La Cienega's smile.

La Cienega's Smile

Weeks after that first encounter in English class, we sat
together on the merry-go-round in the playground.

"I dare you to kiss me," Reyna said suddenly.

"What?" I said, nearly choking on my tofu turkey
wrap. I wasn't a vegetarian or anything, but Reyna was. And there was just
something about her that made me want to be wherever she was and do whatever
she did. That included eating this disgusting concoction.

"I said I, dare you to kiss me."

"I heard you, but…but why?" I really couldn't
believe what I was hearing. Did she really want us to kiss?

Reyna drew in a breath and made her cheeks big like a
blowfish. She always did that when she needed to think. She held her breath for
several seconds then let it out as she said, "According to my sources,
we're the only two sixth graders who haven't had a first kiss. Most everyone in
our class has gone beyond kissing."

I stared at her, completely confused. I remember totally not
understanding what she meant by 'beyond kissing,' but I knew I wanted to try
it. And I wanted to try it with her.

"I mean, I know you would rather kiss Amanda
Stratfield, but I figure you can practice on me. That way, when you finally
kiss Amanda, you'll be really good at it."

I didn't really want to kiss Amanda Stratfield. She was
actually kind of annoying, the way she always asked me stupid questions about
baseball just so she could have an excuse to talk to me. I mean, really, she
doesn't even know what a sacrifice fly is. Reyna does. She would never ask me
that.

"Um…" I managed to say. I couldn't think of
anything else. I didn't know what I was supposed to say in this situation.

"We can go behind the slide if you want, so no one will
see," Reyna said.

"Um…okay."

Reyna grabbed my hand and pulled me to a secluded spot
behind the slide at the edge of the playground, a spot hidden from the rest of
the field. And then we did it. We kissed. We kissed a lot. Reyna was a little
bit of a perfectionist, so I knew we’d be at it for a while until we got it
just right.

"Did you feel that?" she asked me after our fifth
attempt at a successful kiss without teeth getting in the way.

"What?"

"A flutter in the pit of your stomach. I felt it in
mine."

I closed my eyes and thought about it. Yeah, I’d felt the
flutter. Whatever it was, I had felt it everywhere.

"Yeah, I felt it, too," I said.

"La Cienega just smiled."

I looked at her and smiled. I couldn’t stop smiling. I
probably had the biggest, stupidest grin on my face. But I couldn't help it. I
was just that happy. "You always talk about this Cienega person. Are you
finally gonna tell me who she is?"

Reyna sat
cross legged
on the
ground and pulled me down next to her. She closed her eyes and rested her head
on my shoulder. She seemed as though she was being transported to another time
and place. I just sat there, quietly waiting for her to speak. And secretly
hoping that soon the kissing would start again.

"In my village in Puerto Rico," she finally began,
"there was this old blind woman named Milagros. That means Miracle, you
know?"

I nodded as if I knew. I really didn't.

"It was an appropriate name. She was the miracle of the
village. If there was someone having a hard time paying their bills, they would
miraculously find a wad of cash under their door. If someone didn't have enough
to eat, they'd miraculously find a bag of rice and a chicken on their
doorstep."

"Wait, a live chicken?"

"Yes, a live one. That's how we roll in Puerto
Rico." She laughed for a moment and then suddenly became serious.
"Everyone knew the gifts came from her. She was so giving and caring. She
took care of everyone. She even tried to take care of my mother when…when she
got sick." Reyna paused for a moment as if holding back tears. "After
my mom died, I thought my world had ended. I thought I would never be happy
again. It actually made me mad to pass Milagros on her porch every day and see
her smiling at nothing. I honestly believed that no one in the world should be
happy, because my mother was gone." She paused again and took a deep,
calming breath. "Anyway, one day I got too angry to hold it in. I marched
up to her and asked her why in the world was she smiling? Actually, I think
what I said translates more accurately into, 'Why the hell are you smiling?'
But do you know what she said?"

I shook my head.

"She said she smiles because she's blind."

I looked at Reyna oddly.

"Yeah, I was confused too. But then she said, 'It's not
what you see that makes you truly happy. What you see may not always be there.
Oh, but how you feel never has to go away. There's nothing better than that
tingly happiness that courses through your body and lands in your face, causing
your cheeks to rise into a smile. Because I'm blind,
I don't
get distracted by what's really there and what's not
. I get to have that
feeling all the time.'"

I sat in silence for a while as I let those words sink in. I
had to admit, those were probably the most beautiful few sentences I’d ever
heard in my life. No wonder the words had stuck with Reyna for so long. But I
was still confused about something. "Rey, I thought you said her name was
Milagros. Where does La Cienega come in?"

"That was her nickname," Reyna said. "It's
not actually even a real word, but it's roughly translated to something like
'the marsh.' I used to sit on her porch for hours and watch the
sun rise
or set over the marsh. It was beautiful and
peaceful and made me feel like…like…home."

"Well, we have marshland here. This is Charleston,
after all. Do you feel at home here?"

Reyna shook her head. "It's not the same. Yes, there is
marshland here, but this isn't an island. There’s something different about
living on an island. There's something different about the feel of the wind,
the smell of air and the taste of the breeze. The sunset on an island surrounds
you and feels like warmth is hugging you."

For a moment I thought she was getting confused in the
English language. Her English was nearly perfect since her father was American,
but sometimes I noticed she couldn't exactly translate things the way she
wanted. But after I thought about it for a moment more, I realized she had said
exactly what she meant. I also realized that one day I was going to help her
have the feeling again.

Top of the Seventh

The sixth inning still brings no score. We are still ahead
one to zero.

I find myself hoping the other team will hit a home run or something
and take the pressure off of me. Then I can fake some shoulder strain and get
out of the game. I will head out to the locker room and sneak off to the
surprise I had for Reyna. Yeah, that can work. I just have to get out of here.

I throw a fastball straight down the middle. Just as I
thought, the batter hits a long one down the left field line. The ball is so
out of here. But then Derek suddenly turns into Spider-man and nearly scales
the wall to make an incredible catch.

The crowd explodes in applause. The batter is out.

This means I have to continue my perfect game. I catch a
glimpse of Sam in the bleachers. She’s standing with her hands on her hips and
glaring at me as if I’ve just beaten a baby seal with my bat. My behavior is
unacceptable to her. Somehow she knows what I’m trying to do. She’ll kill me if
I ruin this chance at a perfect game. She already told me at the beginning of
the season that there’s a brand-new Mustang convertible waiting for me if I
accomplish this. To be honest, this game means more to her than it does to me.

Returning to the dugout, I try to block out Coach, who is
yammering in my ear about being only nine outs away from making history. No
high school student has ever pitched a perfect game against a college team.
Even though this is just an exhibition game, I’m sure it’ll be on the local
news tonight. It might even make the national news.