Out of Left Field: Marlee's Story (2 page)

“Jeri, are you sure you want to park here?” Marlee gestured toward the playing field. “What if a foul ball hits your windshield?”

“She’s right, Jeri.” Both girls jumped at the voice from behind the Mustang. “You should probably park on the other side of the lot.” Their softball coach, Dottie Spears, walked up to them. “So, are my girls here to scout the Panthers?”

Coach Spears wasn’t intimidating physically with her petite build and short graying hair, but Marlee knew she could be a force to be reckoned with.

“Yeah, Coach,” Jeri said. “We’re scouting East Valley and Christy Loveland. We’re gonna find out their secrets so we can annihilate ’em on Tuesday.”

Coach Spears laughed. “Good thinking. I guess that’s why we’re here, too.” The “we” referred to their coach and the dark haired woman who stood by her side. The woman looked vaguely familiar to Marlee, but she couldn’t put her finger on who she was.

Marlee said, “And we’re not sitting on the home team side. We’re sitting on the visitors’ side.” She gestured toward the bleachers on the third base line. “No way I want anybody thinking we’re rooting for the Panthers.”

Coach Spears laughed again and grabbed the jacket sleeve of the woman with her. “I’m pretty sure everyone will know who you’re rooting against in two minutes.” The two older women turned to walk toward the first base side of the field. “But we’ll sit on the home team side just so we won’t cramp your style, okay?” Their Coach winked back at them.

Marlee and Jeri laughed. “Okay, Coach,” Marlee called after her, “but don’t go rooting for the Panthers. We’d have to question your loyalties.”

“Enjoy the game.” Coach Spears waved without looking.

“Bye, girls,” the dark haired woman called back.

“Marlee, I’m gonna move the car over there.” Jeri pointed to a remote area of the parking lot.

“Okay, I’ll see you in the bleachers.”

SOFTBALL IN THE New York State North Country comes at a time of the earth’s renewal, when brown turns to green, when creatures, human and non, emerge from hibernation. That would also prove true for Marlee. She certainly felt happiest when spring rolled around because spring meant softball. Blanket in hand, she made her way to the top of the sizeable bleachers. She spread the blanket on the cold metal and waited for Jeri.

Marlee inhaled the familiar smell of damp clay from the freshly watered infield. For Marlee, that smell was a sure sign of spring. She surveyed the Panthers’ softball facility and sighed with envy. The East Valley Panthers were a well funded team, unlike her own Clarksonville Cougar team that made do on next to nothing. The Panther infield was immaculately groomed, the outfield grass looked like a golf course, and the powerful stadium lights turned darkness into day. Each Panther dugout had its own water fountain, batting helmet cabinet, and bat rack. The fenced-in dugouts protected the players from foul balls and thrown bats. The Clarksonville field, on the other hand, had two weather-beaten benches, one for each team. Okay, there was a backstop, but the Clarksonville school district couldn’t seem to afford much more than that.

Just behind the left field fence, Christy Loveland warmed up in the makeshift bullpen. Maybe it should be called a cow pen instead. And Christy would be the cow. She giggled and couldn’t wait to tell Jeri that one. Christy was built like a cow, too. She was stocky with no neck to speak of, like a football player. But she could also throw like a rocket launcher. And as much as Marlee wanted to find a weakness in Christy’s pitching, she never could. In fact, it looked as if Christy’s pitches were popping already, even though this was the Panthers’ season opener.
And our opener is Tuesday against this stupid team. How are we ever gonna beat them?
Marlee sighed again as she simultaneously watched Christy warm up and Jeri bound up the bleachers. Jeri lit a cigarette.

“Jeri, what are you doing?” Marlee panicked. “Coach is right over there.” She pointed furiously toward the home bleachers.

“Girl, I forgot. What a drag.” She giggled. “Drag, get it?” She crushed her cigarette out on the metal bleachers. “This sucks. I didn’t even get a good drag on it.” Jeri laughed again causing several people to turn their direction. Jeri jammed the cigarette pack into her jacket pocket and nodded toward their

coach. “Who’s that woman she’s with? She looks familiar.”

Marlee shrugged. “Yeah, she does.”

“Maybe they’re sisters, ya think?” Jeri tugged on Marlee’s jacket sleeve to indicate the women’s matching blue windbreakers.

Marlee agreed they could be sisters. After all, they kind of looked similar. Both had short hair like Marlee’s, although their coach’s hair was gray. And yes, Marlee observed, they wore matching windbreakers. An odd feeling crept into her stomach and she wasn’t sure why.

“Hey, hey, hey.” Jeri punched Marlee in the arm. “I know who she is. Pick me. Pick me.” Jeri, of course, didn’t wait to be picked. “She’s that umpire from last year’s Mohawk game. Right?”

Marlee looked again and remembered, “Oh, yeah. You're right. She's the one that called you out at home. We lost that game.”

“And I was safe.” Jeri jabbed at the air with her finger.

“I know. Remember how Coach had a fit? She yelled for three straight minutes. And I can’t believe she knows her. Oh, my God.”

“Think we should ask her about it at practice on Monday?”

Marlee didn’t think that was a good idea and said so, but she wasn’t sure why it was a bad idea. Before she had a chance to think about it, their attention was blessedly diverted to the softball field. They watched senior Christy Loveland stroll to home plate to meet with the umpires in the captains’ circle before the game. Christy looked intimidating compared to the smaller-framed captains from the visiting team.

Jeri pointed to the captains’ circle. “Hey, that’s gonna be you and me this year. That’s so cool that Coach picked you for captain, too. You, a lowly junior. I guess she thinks you’re, like, a leader or something.” Jeri gave Marlee a friendly push with her shoulder.

“Whatever.” Marlee gave her friend a conspiratorial shoulder nudge in return. “I guess we have something in common with Christy. Well, that and the fact that she strikes us out all the time.”

“Swing and a miss,” Jeri giggled in her bad announcer’s voice.

The same group of people turned to look at them again, curious about their laughter. The public address announcer’s voice echoed through the night air. The East Valley Panther team funneled out of their dugout onto the field. Marlee watched Christy command attention as she strode to the pitcher’s circle. She looked confident and strong. The red and black Panther uniforms made the entire Panther team look ominous. Marlee’s team colors were royal blue and white. Nothing ominous there. The royal blue brought out the color in Marlee’s eyes, her mother had told her more than once. Lord knows that would intimidate the Panthers on Tuesday.

The other Panther players raced to their positions as if competing to see who could get there first. One of the Panther players, the left fielder, ran past them. Marlee followed the girl with her eyes, mesmerized by the way her athletic body moved. When the girl reached left field, she flung her glove to the ground and pulled off her black and red softball hat. A stream of long auburn hair flowed free. Marlee inhaled sharply. The girl’s hair was the kind you see in those shampoo commercials where the woman flips her soft-as-rain hair around her head. The girl in left field gathered her own soft-as-rain hair with both hands and flipped it into a ponytail. She whisked the ponytail under her hat, and it looked as if she had short hair. She then pushed an obviously escaped shock of hair out of her eyes with what looked liked a practiced hand.

Marlee’s gaze wandered over the rest of the athlete. The girl’s red and black Panther jersey was tight across her ample chest. Marlee could also make out the muscles underneath the girl’s snug black and red three-quarter pants. Marlee imagined the girl in shorts. And her hands. Her hands looked so strong. She felt her face flush and realized she’d been holding her breath. She forced herself to exhale as a sudden warmth overtook her in the cold bleachers. The left fielder’s fist pounded in her glove as Marlee’s heart pounded in her chest.

“Marlee.” Jeri waved a hand in her best friend’s face. “Where are you, girl? I asked you a question.”

More heat rose to Marlee’s cheeks and neck. Jeri had caught her staring at somebody and that somebody was a girl. She ran a nervous hand through her short hair and hoped Jeri would think the cold night air caused the crimson in her cheeks.

“What?” she choked.

“Oh forget it.” Jeri waved her off with a flip of her hand. “I answered my own question. They’re playing Southfork.”

Marlee took a deep breath in an attempt to regain her composure, but under cover she replayed the most amazing thing she had ever seen in her entire life. She felt her cheeks flush as a large part of her struggled to understand what was so intriguing about the East Valley left fielder with the soft-as-rain hair. In spite of that struggle, Marlee smiled when she realized she would be able to watch this girl for another two hours.

Chapter Two

Cougars vs. Panthers

EVEN THOUGH TUESDAY had seemed an eternity away to Marlee, the day of the Cougar-Panther game finally arrived. She shifted in her classroom seat, right in front of Jeri. She just couldn’t get comfortable in the hard plastic chair. And Mrs. Stratton, her third period calculus teacher, droned on and on about infinite series or something. Marlee didn’t have time for calculus. She had to think about that afternoon’s game against the East Valley Panthers. That was much more important than infinite series any day.

Marlee pictured herself pitching against the Panthers that afternoon. Carefree puffy clouds would float overhead in the brilliant blue sky. There would be no threat of rain, and definitely no hint of snow. The temperature would be just right for pitching. Her drop balls would drop perfectly. Her rise balls would rise expertly, not how they usually did, over her catcher Lisa Brown’s head. That sort of thing was not going to happen today. In fact, Marlee mused, Lisa would be so impressed with Marlee’s pitching that she’d even let Marlee throw whatever pitches she wanted whenever she wanted. Wouldn’t that be something? Batter after Panther batter would come up to the plate and she would strike them all out, most of them on only three pitches, including the left fielder, #7 Susie Torres.

Marlee wasn’t sure what to do about her sudden fascination with the East Valley left fielder. A large part of her denied any attraction, but a small part of her allowed the possibility. She let that small part wonder why she hadn’t noticed her before Friday night. She must have pitched against Susie at some point during the last season, but she couldn’t come up with an answer.

On Friday night, Marlee discovered that Susie could hit with power. But she was not going to allow Susie or anyone else on the East Valley Panther team to get any hits because she planned to strike out every Panther batter on her way to a no-hit perfect game. And her teammates would hang strikeout K’s on the outfield snow fence where a certain left fielder would be reminded who had struck out those Panther batters all day long.

Marlee jumped when she felt a sharp jab in her back.

“Marlee,” Jeri whispered frantically.

Marlee turned fully around in her seat to face Jeri and hissed, “What?”

“Mrs. Stratton asked you a question.” She pointed toward the front of the room.

The twenty-five other students in the class broke into laughter as Marlee did the slow turn of shame to face their math teacher. Mrs. Stratton, both hands on her hips, peered at Marlee over her glasses. Marlee managed a sheepish grin and mouthed the word, “sorry.” The class tittered again.

“Ms. McAllister,” Mrs. Stratton began, “now that we have your attention.” She paused when several students in the class snickered. “Would you kindly give us an example of an infinite series that converges?”

“Ummm...” Marlee fumbled. She took a deep breath and pretended to look at her notes. Her “notes” turned out to be a softball field. “Well, I, uh...can I get back to you on that?”

“Ahh,” her teacher said knowingly. The smallest of smiles gleamed in her eyes as she said, “I thought as much.” She walked back to the front board, white board marker brandished like a sword. “Game time isn’t for,” she pointed to the classroom clock with the marker, “another five hours or so, right?” Marlee nodded. “Try to stay focused until then. Okay?” Marlee nodded vigorously.

The class sighed in collective relief as their comrade escaped the wrath of Stratton. Marlee felt her cheeks get hot. She nodded her head slowly and turned to a fresh page in her notebook. She knew she had gotten lucky that time. Mrs. Stratton wasn’t always so kind.

“Okay,” Mrs. Stratton continued, “who can tell me the answer?”

When the bell rang to signal the end of the class, Marlee packed up her books and Jeri poked her again. “Where were you, girl? You’re, like, daydreaming a lot lately.” The two friends slung their backpacks over their shoulders and filed out of Mrs. Stratton’s classroom with the other students.

Marlee felt herself blush clear to her toes. “Oh, uh, I was thinking about the game today. Gettin’ psyched.” She paused and then added laughing, “Oh, my God. I can’t believe Mrs. S called on me.”

Jeri joined her laughter and put a playful arm around Marlee’s shoulder as they walked down the hall. “Girl, what has you so distracted? Bobby? Ooh la la.”

“No,” Marlee snapped. She shrugged out of Jeri’s hold.

Surprised, Jeri took back her arm. “Okay, okay. Sore subject. I can tell. Listen, I gotta go. Can’t be late to History anymore. We’ll talk later. And you,” she jabbed a finger at Marlee, “stay awake in class.”

“GEEZ, MARLEE, C’MON. You are not warmed up,” Lisa protested. The Clarksonville Cougar catcher clearly had a different opinion than her pitcher. Lisa Brown whipped off her catcher’s mask and wiped her forehead, her long black braid swung back and forth. She showed her hand to Marlee. “Look, I haven’t even broken a sweat. Even with all this gear on. Geez.” She gestured to her shin guards, chest protector, and mask.