Leap (3 page)

"Shut your ugly mouth, Mack." I point at him angrily.

I immediately get yelled at by my mom and I feel the tears building up behind my eyes.

"Corrine, don't say shut up. It's not nice."

I glare at her, and as hard as I try to hold them back, the tears just come anyway.

I throw down my napkin and push my chair back roughly from the table.

"Fine. Stick up for him. You always do!" I yell at my mom and then run to my quiet spot.

This is my spot beyond the tall beach grasses, about a quarter mile away from my house. I always come here to think since no one can see me sitting here. The oats are so high, even if I'm crying, no one can hear me because the wind blowing through them muffles my sounds. I don't know why Mack has to pick on me. I don't know why my mother always has to stick up for him. I know he's like her kid, but he's not. I am.

I'm cold sitting down here by the water. I should have grabbed my jacket before I came down, but I was in a hurry. I needed to get away from my mom and Mack as fast as I could.

Mack thinks he's so perfect. He thinks he's a know-it-all. I know Mack is super smart. Sometimes he’s too smart for his own good. He'll be in all the advanced placement classes come next week and I'll just be in the regular ones. The basic classes with the basic kids and the basic teachers. I like school, but Mack—Mack loves school. I don't understand why.

I hug my legs bringing my knees to my chest. Resting my head on my knees, I think about starting middle school next week. My stomach feels funny, and my tears come out faster and faster and I can feel them falling on my skin.

God, why can't I just not be nervous and just feel normal. Why do I have to feel this way? And it's not just because of school—it's everything. Just the littlest thing sets me off lately.

Suddenly, my head is covered with something and it gets dark. Surprised, I throw whatever it is off of me and I realize it's my jacket. I look to my left and see Mack standing there throwing pebbles at the water.

I look up at him, but he doesn't look at me. He just talks.

"Mae thought you might need it. It's getting colder out every day."

I don't answer him; I just put on my jacket.

He plops down next to me on the mossy, pebbled sand.

"Can I tell you the truth about something, Rinny?"

I shrug and look away. I don't want him here. What's he going to say to me? My batting average sucks? I know this already.

He laughs a little. "I can't believe I'm about to say this to a girl. I must be nuts."

I roll my eyes. "Spit it, Mack."

"I'm nervous."

I continue to look away from him and out towards the water.

"Nervous about what? Not making the baseball team?" I snort.

"No. I'm nervous about going to middle school. I'm nervous about my classes. I'm nervous about meeting new kids. I'm nervous about having to take the bus with some of the older kids. I'm just . . . nervous."

I turn my head to look at Mack, and my eyes go wide. I stick my finger in my ear and wiggle it around. Maybe I didn't hear correctly.

"You haven't been afraid of anything, Mack Cooper, and probably never will be. Stop with the bullcrap."

He chews on one of his fingernails and fidgets.

"I'm serious. And my God, you have a bad mouth."

I sigh. "Mack, you aren't serious. You walk around the neighborhood like you own it. Everybody knows you. Everybody loves you. You're like a king around here." Mack adjusts his body and turns towards me with his legs crossed in front of him. He picks up a piece of washed up seaweed and rubs it between his fingers.

"Yeah, maybe in our school, but what about the other elementary schools? They don't know me. What if they think I suck as a first baseman?"

I turn and face him. I make my legs go in the same position as his, so our sneakers are touching at the tips. It's our usual position when we play board games.

When I finally get a look at Mack's face, I can see he's not lying. It's not a load of crap. He looks . . . scared. For the first time in his life, I really think Mack Cooper is scared.

I play with the ends of my ponytail and pick at the split ends.

"Mack, no one is going to hate you. No one is going to think you suck as a first baseman. Just like in our school—everyone will instantly love you. They always do. I'm the one who has to worry about all of that. Except the baseball part."

He looks up at me with one eye through his shaggy brown hair.

"Girls have it easy, Rinny. You just walk around and talk about clothes and hair and boys. I have to worry about beating someone out for a spot on the team, keeping up my grades, and getting a spot on the school newspaper."

I can feel this strange feeling bubbling up inside me like I want to explode. I take a deep breath in and talk through my teeth. Something Mae yells at me for all the time.

"You think being a girl is so easy? I'm a tomboy in case you haven't noticed, Mack. I could care less about hair and clothes and boys. I care about the Yankees going to the World Series and Pettitte staying off the DL list, and if I don't argue with Mae will she buy me a new pair of cleats. I’m worried what the girls from other schools will think of me because I am the way I am. I like baseball. I wear sneakers every day and my best friend is a boy. There are my worries."

Mack's voice is low. "I'm sorry, Rinny. Maybe . . . well maybe we have different worries, but we feel the same. Like we’re both nervous for different reasons."

I turn and face the water, and we’re silent for a while. We listen to the whistle of a boat nearby and the seagulls calling out to each other. Mack draws circles in the sand over and over again with a stick.

"You have any dreams, Rinny? What do you want to do when you grow up? Do you want to get married and stay home like your mom to take care of your kids, or do you want to do something else?"

What I want to be is something I think I've always known since I was small.

"I want to be a lawyer."

"Why a lawyer?" he questions.

"Because I argue with Mae all the time, and my dad tells me I could talk my way out of a parking ticket. Whatever that means. I like to argue, so I want to be a defense attorney."

He crinkles up his nose.

"Oh, okay. How come I didn't know that? I thought you wanted to be the first woman Yankee?"

I shake my head. "You don't know everything about me, Mack Cooper."

Sounding defeated, he tells me, "Guess I don't."

Mack looks disappointed with my answer, and I can't help but to try to make him feel a little better.

"Mack? Can I ask you something?"

Still drawing in the sand, he nods his head and says, "Sure, shoot."

"Do you sometimes feel like you're changing? Like the things that we thought about last year, we don't think the same about? I'm not sure I'm explaining it the right way. I mean, sometimes I just feel like I . . .” Mack interrupts me.

"Like you want to scream and no one understands how you feel?"

"Yes!" Shocked that he knows exactly the way I feel—I almost scream my answer.

I expect Mack to laugh, but he doesn't. He rests his chin on his hand, and places his elbow on his knee and stares at the circles he has drawn in the sand.

And I realize something. This isn't all about me. It isn't all about the way I feel. Mack feels different too. I would have never guessed it. Mack hid the way he feels well. He looks sad.

I lift my hand and reach for the scar I gave him a few years ago. When my thumb touches it, Mack flinches and pulls his head away slightly.

I'm not sure why he does this, so I scrunch up my face in confusion. He knows when I'm sorry or when he's hurting this is what I do. I put my hand back down on my lap and look out at the water again. A minute later, Mack grabs my hand and places it over his right eye. He runs it back and forth over his scar. I look at his shaggy brown hair and his summer freckles. His eyes are closed giving me the chance to really look at him. "Mack . . .” That's when it happens. Out of the blue, MacIntyre Cooper leans over with my hand still on his head and kisses me. On the lips. The feeling is warm and safe and makes my belly flip. At first, my eyes are open and the only things I see are Mack's long lashes and closed lids. Then as his lips are still fused to mine, I close my eyes and my chest feels funny. But I'm not minding it.

After a second, Mack pulls away slowly as a few droplets of rain start to come down. His eyelids flutter as he opens them. He looks scared and nervous. I can't do anything but stare at him.

"Rinny . . . I'm so . . .” He runs his hand through his hair, then picks up a stone from the ground, and throws it.

He leans his elbows on his knees like he's in pain and puts his head down.

"I shouldn't have done that. I'm sorry, Rinny. I don't know why I kissed you."

I'm still confused as to why he kissed me. I briefly touch my lips before turning away to play with the sand, ignoring Mack.

We stay so still and quiet letting the cool rain wash down on us.

"Fall is coming. I can feel it in the rain."

Mack looks over at me and shakes his head. "You don't have to make me feel better by making small talk. I'm an idiot."

"Why are you an idiot? I let you do it. I could’ve decked you." Mack lets out a small laugh.

"Yeah, you could've. I've seen you do it. Remember when you knocked out Chris Andrews for teasing you after you missed that pop-up during last year's game?"

"Of course I remember. My knuckles hurt for a week, and Mae made me go over to his house and apologize."

"He called you a wimpy girl who didn't know one end of a baseball mitt from the other. He was asking for it."

We laugh and then go silent once again.

Mack kissed me. He was my first kiss, and I know I was his first because Mack tells me everything. Out of all the girls in our neighborhood who chased after him, why did he choose me?

The rain starts to come down a little harder and my chance of asking him is slowly disappearing.

A crash of thunder sounds in the air and I jump.

Mack, never being afraid of the sound, stands up brushing the sand from his shorts before holding out his hand for me to take.

"Let's go, Rinny. Before Mae sends out the neighborhood watch people to look for us." I look up at him just as the downpour of the rain begins.

I take his hand and run down the pebbled road to our houses. We don't speak; we only run to separate homes.

When I reach my bedroom, I take off my wet jacket and throw it onto the floor. I flop on my bed not caring that my shirt and head are soaked. I lay there staring at my ceiling. The crash and boom of the thunder outside makes me shiver, but so do the thoughts that are going through my head. Mack kissed me. He's like my brother—yet at the exact second he kissed me—he didn't feel like one.

Why was that? Why did my stomach feel the way it did? What in the world was he thinking? Why did I let him? I take a deep breath in and close my eyes. I feel like laughing. I feel like crying. I feel . . . things I can't explain.

A sound at my window breaks me from my worries; I know it's one of the stones Mack keeps in a glass jar in his room. When he wants to get my attention he throws one of them.

I go to my window and fling it open to see Mack hanging halfway out of his. He's just as drenched as I am.

"Hey." I give him a nod.

"Hey. I forgot to give you something. Hold out your hands and try to catch something for a change." I stick my tongue out at him knowing he's poking fun at my catching skills.

The windows to our bedrooms are so close I can see what comic book is on his desk.

I catch what he tosses, and turn over the plastic case and look at it.

I look up out the window and see Mack grinning. I shake the plastic in my hand at him along with my head.

"TLC’s CD? Really, Mack?"

"I know you like that stupid song."

"You're an idiot."

"You're a pain in the butt," he answers back.

Mack ducks in his window and starts to shut it.

"Mack, wait!"

He stops and opens it up again.

"Why did you do it?"

"The CD?"

I shake my head. "Not that."

Mack bites his lower lip and sticks his tongue out, looking at me knowing exactly what I’m talking about.

"I wanted you to be the first.”

I crinkle my forehead and point to myself and chuckle.

“Me? Why me?”

He shrugs. “I took a leap.”

Confused what that means I ask, “What does leaping have to do with it?”

“It means taking a chance. When you aren’t sure of something and you actually do it. You have to find out for yourself what it’s like. You take the leap. That’s what I did. I leaped.”

I remained stunned as Mack gives me a small wave.

He goes back inside and shuts the window, and we never talk about that leap again.