Alice Bliss - Laura Harrington [75]
“John’s got a girlfriend! John’s got a girlfriend!”
“Shut up, you little twerp.”
John grabs Joey’s hat and sails it into the bleachers below. When Joey flies down the steps to retrieve his hat, John does not take Alice’s hand again. Which is a relief. Kind of. She shifts away from him.
“I thought you were going out with Melissa Johnson,” Alice says quietly, as Mrs. Minty and Mr. Kimball discuss the Red Wings’ new outfielder.
John pays extra close attention to the pitcher.
“Well?”
“It’s complicated.”
“I think that’s pretty much a yes or no answer.”
It’s a full count.
Is this why twelfth-grade boys troll for ninth- and tenth-grade girls, thinking they’ll be too wowed to protest or complain about anything as immature as cheating?
“Maybe you’re just trying to be nice to me. But I don’t really know you because I’ve never really even talked to you so . . .”
He turns to look at her.
“We’ve talked.”
“Hardly.”
“More than I talk to most girls.”
“That’s not possible. I see you with girls all the time.”
“That’s not really talking.”
“It looks like talking.”
“It’s just talk. It’s not anything real.”
“But . . .”
Gelbart steals second. Under the cover of the crowd’s roar he says:
“I like you, Alice.”
“You do not.”
“Why is that so hard to believe?”
“It just is, okay?”
“Why?”
“It’s impossible.”
“Why?”
“For one thing, you’re a senior.”
“So?”
“It’s confusing.”
“I thought when you said yes to coming to the game that maybe . . .”
“I figured you were just getting all your good deeds for the year over with in one fell swoop: you know, old lady, sad girl from school,” Alice says even more quietly in case Mrs. Minty overhears.
“That’s not why I asked you.”
“And what about Melissa Johnson?”
“What about her?”
“I heard she spent a lot of money on her dress for the spring dance.”
“Which is why I can’t break up with her before then.”
“Because of a dress? That’s insane.”
“Yeah. But what kind of jerk would I be to break up with her now?”
Gelbart gets to third on a sacrifice bunt.
“I wanted to ask you to go with me,” John says.
“You’re just saying that.”
“No, I’m not.”
Alice looks at him, thinking, I don’t know you at all, and what I thought I did know about you turns out to be completely, totally wrong.
“I already said yes to Henry anyway.”
“Henry Grover?”
“He’s my best friend.”
“But do you . . . ?”
“Do I what?”
“Do you like him?”
“Of course I like him!”
“You know what I mean.”
Sammy Marston hits a double deep into left field, sending Gelbart home.
“Save me a dance, then,” he says.
“What?”
“One slow dance.”
“Wouldn’t that be . . . ?”
“It’s just a dance.”
“Melissa Johnson won’t think it’s ‘just a dance.’ ”
“Fair enough.”
They go back to watching the game.
“What happened to your mother?” Alice asks.
“Breast cancer.”
Alice registers that she has never heard a seventeen-year-old boy say breast before.
“I’m sorry. I can’t imagine . . .”
“Yeah.”
Why is this so hard to talk about?
“You must miss her.”
“All the time.”
“How old was Joey?”
“Four.”
“Does he remember her?”
“Sort of. But I think his memories get mixed up with all the pictures we have.”
Alice pulls off her Red Wings hat.
“I can’t remember my dad’s voice.”
“Doesn’t he call all the time?”
“He’s missing in action.”
He looks at her.
“You didn’t say anything.”
“I never know what to say.”
“How long has it been?”
“Eight days.”
She looks at her hands.
“Alice . . .”
She can’t look up.
“He’ll be okay.”
She wants to believe that. She wills herself to meet his gaze.
“Let’s not talk about it anymore,” she says. “Let’s just . . .”
He’s still looking at her
“Are you close?” he asks.
“Yeah . . . Yeah. We are.”
He takes her hand again and Alice thinks, don’t ask me if I’m all right or I am going to totally lose it.
After