Throwing Like a Girl (19 page)

“Mom, I know. First we’ll talk to Coach and make sure there aren’t any rules against joining the team midseason.
Then
she’ll talk to her dad.”

“You know I’ll help out, if you want me to.”

I have that scratchy throat, stinging eye feeling I get right before I cry, but I keep it together. “Thanks, Mom.”

I grab my glove and hat and start walking toward campus.

It’s then that I notice Nate coming down the hill. He’s not running, but he’s walking fast. His hands are hidden in his pockets.

“Ella,” he calls.

“I didn’t know SMU was in Dallas,” I say as we get closer, and this makes him laugh.

“Yeah. I’m gonna be around for a few more years.” He looks at me. “What do you think of that?”

I don’t say anything.

“Do you want to go to prom with me?” he blurts.

“
What?
”

“Prom. You know, school dance, pretty dresses, tuxedos. Would you like to go?”

“But, I—”

“I’m just so happy, Ella. I had a good day. And I’m asking you to prom so we can go on a date.” He looks down in a shy kind of way. “We could go as friends if that’s what you want.”

“No.” I shake my head. “I mean yes. I’d love to go.”
Please, God, let my parents say it’s okay
.

He smiles. “Really? I know it’s short notice. It’s also on the same day as your Fort Worth tournament.”

“What Fort Worth tournament?”

He laughs. “Two weeks from Saturday.”

“Oh, right. Right.”

“At least it’s close. I think Sally’s going to the prom, too. And Gwen and Joy. So, you’ll be on the run together.” He grins as if this is possible. “You didn’t tell me you were starting today.”

“Your news seemed a little…bigger.”

“Starting is big, too. Hey, I have to catch my ride,” he says. “Say hi to your parents.”

He waves as he jogs away and I wave back, sweaty and confused and dirty, but gleaming on the inside. I’m going to my first dance, and not some little Hearts Afire dress rehearsal of a dance, either. This is the real thing. The prom.

In the car, I can tell that my mother saw Nate and is dying to ask about him. But she holds off. My father says even though we lost, the team is really starting to play hardball, and then he goes on about the Peyton Plastics building, how the panels are almost complete—that means the workers won’t be able to watch us anymore—and the fact that Coach and Mack are dating.

I sit in the back, numb from the whole day, thinking I need to call Christine, Jen, and Amy to tell them I’m going to prom. They’ll scream and want to know what I’ll wear and how he asked me and everything. I don’t think I’m up to it tonight.

Dad pulls into the garage, and we all get out. In the kitchen, my mother unties the scarf. “I promise I’ll retire this until the end of the season.”

“What?” I say. “No. Don’t.”

“But I thought—”

“I changed my mind. It’s actually not bad luck. It might even be good.”

She smiles one of her shrewd smiles. There’s no possible way she could know that Nate just asked me to prom, but she knows something. She always does.

Later on, I work up the nerve to ask my parents’ permission to go to prom, but my worries were unnecessary. I think by the fourth daughter and amid the planning for the first wedding, they’re worn down a bit.

My father’s reaction is to put aside the newspaper, take off his glasses, and grin. “Now there’s a curveball out of left field. I like that boy. Good for you, Ella.” As if I’d gotten accepted at my safety school, and he was assured that I’d be going to college somewhere.

My mother is enthusiastic but also her same, old practical self. “Oh, darling. What fun this will be. We have to get you a dress soon, if it’s two weeks from now.”

I text message the girls back home and there is a flurry of happy responses, but I can’t seem to find time to actually talk to them on the phone.

On Friday at lunch, I plan on telling my friends, but I feel shy about it for some reason and decide to start with Rocky on the ride home today. Before that, though, I’ve agreed to go with her to see Coach during a free period.

Coach is on the phone when we get there. Dixie’s in the office with two other guy coaches, debating results from the Rangers’ spring training.

Coach sees us and holds up one finger to let us know she’ll be a moment.

Dixie says, “Hey, Rock. Hey, Chicago, how you girls doin’?”

One of the other coaches chants, “Ro-cky, Ro-cky.”

I don’t know why this surprises me—that everyone knows her. Of course, they would. She’s been here forever, her brother was a star football player, and she was a star softball player. For a while.

Coach hangs up. “Hi, Ella. And you must be Rocky O’Hara. I’ve heard a lot about you. What can I do for you two?”

“Could we talk to you privately?” Rocky says.

“Sure. How about in the athletic director’s office? Mr. Hardy’s in a meeting.”

“You’re not gonna close the door, are you?” Dixie yells as we walk in and Coach closes the door. Then a muffled, “But how am I supposed to hear what’s going on?”

We laugh. Rocky begins, “Ella and I are trying to figure out a way for me to play softball this season. I wanted to know, before I talk to my father, if there’s any reason why I wouldn’t be eligible.”

We’re standing there in the cramped office. Coach sits on the edge of the desk. “Wow,” she says. “Can you tell me why you didn’t try out at the beginning of the season?”

Rocky takes a deep breath. “I have a lot of responsibilities at home, and it’s made it hard to participate in after-school activities.”

“Have those responsibilities changed?”

“No,” Rocky says reluctantly.

Coach nods. “So, what makes
now
different?”

“I guess Ella does. She’s made me see that I might be able to do this.”

I jump in. “I think she’s doing more than her share at
home. Her family can help out more. We’ve already asked them.”

“What about your dad? He’s a hard sell?” Coach obviously knows Rocky’s background. Probably from Dixie.

“You could say that.”

“I’d love to have you on the team, Rocky. From everything I’ve heard, you’re exactly what we need. I don’t know of any rule that prevents you from playing, but that doesn’t matter if you can’t convince your father. You need to talk to him.”

“I know. Everyone keeps telling me that.”

And so we leave with Coach’s green light. Now we just need Mr. O’Hara’s.

During practice I give Frannie and Mo the update, and we’re content with the progress, although I’m still pretty worried about Rocky telling her father.

On the ride home, I decide to wait on the prom info. Rocky has bigger things to deal with.

When there’s enough bustling in the backseat not to be overheard, I ask, “You gonna talk to him tonight?” as quietly as I can.

“I think so.”

“Call me if you need moral support.”

“Moral support for what?” Theresa asks.

I need to work on my quiet voice.

“For being your sister,” Rocky jokes.

Theresa rolls her eyes, but she gives me a quick look, like she seriously wants to know if everything’s okay.

I nod. But I’m not really sure.

We split a doubleheader against Hockaday on Saturday. I play great and get two singles and an RBI. My dad thoroughly enjoys this and my mother, wearing the
lucky
scarf, keeps tying and untying it through both games. I’m worn out by the time I get home and fall asleep before dinner.

I don’t hear from Rocky over the weekend so I call on Sunday night to find out what’s happening.

Thomas answers. He says, “Hang on,” before I even ask for Rocky.

“Hey, Ella.” She sounds normal, not like she’s been crying or anything.

“Have you talked to your dad?”

“Not exactly.”

“
Rocky
. We only have four games left before the tournament. And then SPC.”

I feel very cool using the acronym for our conference, Southwest Preparatory Conference.
Going to SPC
means you made it to the state championships. It’ll be the most exciting thing I’ve ever done.

Rocky says nothing.

“Is everything going okay?” I ask.

“Depends on what you mean.”

She’s being very cryptic. I say, “What do you think I mean? What’s happening with the plan?”

“I’ll tell you all about it in school tomorrow,” she says, and hangs up.

But I don’t hear it from Rocky. First period, geometry, Coach stands in the doorway.

“Coach Lauer, to what do we owe this early morning visit?”

“Sorry to interrupt, Mr. Milauskas. Can I steal Ella Kessler for two minutes?”

In the hallway, Coach says in a whisper, “I’m sorry, but the whole thing with Rocky is off.”

“What did she say?”

“She didn’t say anything to me. Mr. Hardy called her father.”

“How did he know what was going on?”

“Ella, he’s my boss. He wanted to know what Rocky was doing in his office, and I told him.”

“But—”

“I couldn’t lie, Ella. I couldn’t cover it up. Especially if we wanted her to play.”

“But why did her father say no?”

Coach looks around the empty hall. She says, “Look, I think there’s a long history here that neither of us knows anything about. The way Hardy said it to me was that Mr. O’Hara can’t afford to disrupt things at home. He needs her helping out the family, not the softball team.”

“So Rocky never got to tell him that Anthony and her aunt offered to pitch in?”

“Ella, stop. It’s over. This is a complicated family matter and we’re not part of it.”

“But she didn’t get to tell him why this is so important to her. It’s not fair that she doesn’t get to do anything fun in her life. Does he really want her to be unhappy?”

“Oh, Ella.” Coach looks torn. “You need to get back to class. I’ll see you at practice.”

I can’t find Rocky anywhere. At lunch, I see Theresa across the cafeteria and rush over.

“I heard what happened. Where’s Rocky? Is she okay?”

She stares at me. “You should’ve told me about your plan. You could’ve trusted me. At least, I could’ve prepared him for finding out.”

“But why is this such a big deal? I don’t get it.”

“You don’t know my father,” she says, looking off beyond me. “Ever since my mother died he’s just been…empty. He’s the one who really needs Rocky, not us.”

“Does she still want to drive me after school?”

“Of course. You’re like her best friend. Just give her time to get over this.”

I can barely get through the rest of the day. Classes drag on. I hardly ever see Nate during the day anymore. When I do, people always seem to be coming up to him with rehearsal information and last-minute changes. Even practice is slow.

When I get to the lower school parking lot after practice, Mikey and Thomas look at me curiously, but don’t say anything. It’s obvious everyone knows now what Rocky and I have been plotting. And that we failed.

“Are you still talking to me?” I ask Rocky when she pulls up.

She smiles, but barely. “It’s like I got the wind knocked out of me.”

“I’m really sorry.”

“Me, too. The worst part was how disappointed he was, like I was letting the family down by dreaming of doing something else besides helping take care of them.”

“But he doesn’t expect that of anyone else, not me or Anthony,” Theresa says.

I’m surprised she’s said this and so is Rocky. “Thanks, T,” she says.

“I have an idea,” I burst out.

Rocky glances at me wearily. “No more ideas.”

“But Rocky, you never got to tell your side. Is there no part of you that wants to at least tell your father how important this is? He’s already mad; what do you have to lose? There are only a few weeks left now. Today is April 29. Championships are May 17 and 18. How much do a few weeks really matter?”

“Ella, stop.”

She’s the second person to say that to me today.

Part of me wants to scream at her and another part of me wants to keep saying I’m sorry over and over again.

When I get to the front door and Rocky’s still in the driveway, I know I have to give this one more chance. I stop and turn, and she’s getting out of the car and running across the front yard.