Playing the Field (8 page)

So I could choose bright pink flowers from
the prickly green bushes in the corner—although those would be hard
to pick, or white flowers from the bushes by the house—which come
to think of it, were poisonous. Although I knew girls didn’t
actually eat bouquets, it somehow seemed wrong to give someone a
poisonous one. That left the low growing ground cover called
lantana. It had bunches of tiny blossoms that grew together in
clumps so that they looked like little purple popcorn balls. Not
exactly the type of flower you see a lot of in floral
arrangements.

I looked at the plants again, sighed, and
decided a card would be fine.

Mom had a bunch of blank cards we used for
different occasions, so I pulled one of those out of her desk and
sat down at the table with it. I looked at the inside of the card
for a few minutes, then wrote, “Dear Serena.” I tried to think of
something to write after that, but just tapped my pen against the
card instead.

What did you write to someone you’d crashed
into? “Dear Serena, I’m glad to hear nothing is broken?” “Dear
Serena, I hope you don’t hate me now?” Cards were so personal. That
was the nice thing about flowers. You didn’t have to say a lot when
you gave someone flowers. You just handed them over, and the person
said, “Thanks.” That was it. Much easier.

I looked out at the bushes in the backyard
again. Flowers were flowers. What did it matter that we didn’t have
the same kind you bought at the store? Besides, I’d always thought
the lantana were pretty. Why wouldn’t Serena like them?

I put the card in its envelope and shoved it
into my back pocket. Then I checked Serena’s address online and
yelled to Mom that I was going for a bike ride. I went out the door
to the garage, but before I got my bike, I took the side door into
the backyard. We had so much lantana growing by the side of the
house, my parents would never notice if I took some.

I broke off stems until I had a big handful
of them, then held them up and viewed them appraisingly. After a
moment I held them to my face and sniffed. They smelled faintly
like dirty laundry, as though they were trying to repel the bees
instead of attract them, but still they looked soft and pretty—like
something a girl would like. Nice.

Of course by the time I’d peddled over to
Serena’s house some of lantana blossoms had shaken loose, and a few
of the stems were mangled, but it still looked all right.

As I walked up to Serena’s door, I noticed
they also had purple lantana in their front yard. I hoped she
wouldn’t think I’d picked her own flowers to give to her. It was
just one reason—and suddenly I could think of many—to turn around,
get back on my bike, and go home. But what if Serena had seen me
already? What if she were at this moment looking out her window and
happened to notice McKay standing on her driveway with a handful of
flowers? Wouldn’t it seem even more ridiculous to turn around now?
Maybe she’d think I had come by, picked her flowers, and was about
to take them somewhere else.

I took a deep breath, walked up to her door,
and rang the bell.

After a few moments Mrs. Kimball opened the
door. She looked at me, looked at the flowers in my hand, and then
back at me questioningly.

“I didn’t pick them from your yard,” I
blurted out. “I got them from my house.”

She still looked at me questioningly.

“They’re for Serena,” I said. “I came by to
see how she was because I sort of plowed over her in PE
yesterday.”

“Oh!” Mrs. Kimball drew the word out for a
few seconds. “Well, come inside.” She stepped aside so I could get
by. “I’m sure Serena would love to visit with you.”

I followed Mrs. Kimball into their family
room where Serena was laying on the couch. She wore an old T-shirt
and shorts, and her hair was kind of messy, like she hadn’t combed
it yet today. Her knee was wrapped in an Ace bandage and propped up
on four pillows. She was gazing at the TV and looked bored.

“Serena,” her mother chimed, “someone’s here
to see you.”

Serena turned, saw me, and stared for a
moment. “McKay, what are you doing here?” She ran her hand over her
hair, and shot her mother an angry look. I wasn’t sure, whether
Serena was angry at her mother for letting me in when she didn’t
look her best, or for just letting me in at all.

“I came by to see how you were,” I said. “Oh,
and I brought you these.” I handed her the flowers. A few of the
lantana blossoms dropped onto her shorts. I suddenly felt silly
about giving them to her, but what else could I have done? Pretend
I was standing in her family room holding them for some other
reason?

As she took them, she said, “Oh. Lantana. How
nice.”

I knew she didn’t mean it. She would have
used the exact same tone of voice if I’d brought her a bundle of
weeds. Now she was staring at them like she didn’t quite know what
to do with them.

Luckily her mother took them from her. “I’ll
go put them in some water,” she said. And then she added, “It was
very sweet of you to bring them.” Mrs. Kimball walked toward the
kitchen with one hand holding the bouquet and the other hand
underneath it to catch any more falling lantana blossoms. Over her
shoulder, she called back to me, “Feel free to sit anywhere.”

I sat down on a recliner close to the couch.
“I’m sorry I couldn’t find you better flowers. It was sort of a
last-minute thing. I mean, I was just going to give you a card, but
I couldn’t think of what to write.” I hadn’t meant to tell her any
of these things, but to prove my point, I took out the card from my
pocket and gave it to her.

She opened the card and read out loud, “Dear
Serena.” She giggled a little and then closed the card. “You
couldn’t think of anything to say after that?”

“Mostly I wanted to tell you I’m sorry, but
it’s a big card and ‘I’m sorry’ doesn’t take up a lot of room.”

“It’s all right.” She set the card down on
the couch beside her. “It’s not a bad sprain. The doctor said I
just have to stay off it for a while.”

“You’re going to miss school?”

“Yeah.” She said this as though she was not
happy about the situation. “Anna is bringing me my homework
assignments.” Her face brightened a bit. “You’re in my math class.
Maybe you could explain the stuff I miss to me.”

Irony. That’s what my English teacher would
have called it. Here was the girl I wanted to help me in class, and
she was asking me to help her.

“Uh, I’d like to,” I said. “But I’m not very
good in math. In fact, my mom’s calling around to see about getting
me a tutor.”

“Really?” Serena seemed surprised. “What
don’t you understand?”

“All of it. I mean, I never understood how to
do it in the beginning, and now I’m completely lost.”

Without even seeming to think about it, she
said, “I could help you with it.” She waved her hand in the
direction of a desk. “My books are over there. Bring our algebra
book over.”

“Now? You want to go over algebra now?”

She shrugged. “Sure. Why not? I don’t have
much else to do.”

And that’s how my first tutoring session with
Serena came to be. I would like to say that as soon as she went
over the work, I completely understood how to do it, and she was
stunned by my intelligence. That’s not how it happened, though. We
went back to the beginning of the book and ground through some of
the problems. It wasn’t easy, but I did understand it eventually.
At least I understood the first few pages. Even that made me happy.
It had been so long since I could find x with any accuracy, I’d
begun to worry that the letter would be forever lost to me. Working
with Serena made me feel like there was a glimmer of hope for my
passing math class.

We were just starting in on chapter three
when the doorbell rang. Moments later Mrs. Kimball ushered Brian
into the room. Serena looked surprised to see him, and he looked
equally surprised to see me sitting beside her. He glanced from her
to me in transparent annoyance.

Serena ran her hand over her hair again.
“Brian. Hi.”

He walked closer to the couch. “I heard about
your knee at school and thought you might need someone to help you
with your social studies homework.”

What he meant was: I’m here to flirt with
you.

Serena smiled at him. “Thanks. That was
really thoughtful.”

What she meant was: Why do these boys keep
showing up in my living room when I haven’t done my hair?

He looked over at me. “I can explain it to
you later if you’re busy now.”

Which meant: What is McKay doing here?

Serena glanced at me. “That’s okay. McKay and
I were just working on algebra, but we’re ready to take a break
now.”

Which meant—well, I wasn’t exactly sure, but
I was afraid it meant: Sit down Brian, I’d rather flirt with you
than talk to McKay. You’re much cooler, and besides, you’ve never
plowed over me in PE class.

I stood up. “Actually I ought to be going.
Thanks for the help with algebra, though.” I looked around for my
belongings, then realized I hadn’t brought anything but the
flowers.

“It was really nice of you to come,” Serena
said. “Stop by again and tell me what’s going on algebra
class.”

Meaning: “My mother raised me to be polite,
and I must say something to you as you’re leaving.”

I smiled at her. “Sure,” and then in an
attempt at a joke, “Don’t bother seeing me to the door.”

Serena smiled. Brian did not. He sat down by
Serena and opened his social studies book. Right before I went into
the hallway, I turned one last time to look back at Serena. She was
watching Brian. He was telling her something, but from the smile on
his face I didn’t think it had anything to do with social
studies.

The next day at school while I got books out
of my locker, I told Tony that I’d gone over to Serena’s house.

He turned and gave me a big grin. “Way to
go!”

When I didn’t say anything else he nudged me
with his elbow. “Well, was she nice to you?”

I shrugged. “She’s nice to everyone.”

“Did you ask her to help you with math?”

“We went over the first two chapters of the
book.”

He gave me the thumbs up signal. “Home run.
Didn’t I tell you it would work out? Didn’t I?”

“Yeah, yeah,” I said. “And we’ll call our
firstborn Tony. That is, if she doesn’t want to call him Brian
instead.”

“Brian?”

“He came over to give her the social studies
homework.”

“Really? Mr. Jet Engine himself stopped by?”
Tony considered this for a moment, then nodded solemnly. “I guess
that’s good news and bad news. The bad news is you’re going to have
to work even harder to get Serena to like you.”

When he didn’t say anything more, I asked,
“So what’s the good news?”

“He doesn’t like Rachel so I’m home
free.”

I shut my locker door and gave him a dirty
look. “The next time you go mountain climbing, I hope the bear gets
more than your camera.”

“Oh come on, you can take the guy on.”

“Uh, right.” I wasn’t exactly sure what Tony
meant by “taking him on.” It sounded vaguely like I was supposed to
punch him out in the school parking lot. I wasn’t about to do that,
but I did have my own ideas about seeing Serena again. She’d told
me to come over to her house again and tell her what was going on
in algebra class. I needed help with the assignments. What better
way to accomplish both than to record the math class? It gave me an
excuse to see Serena, and hopefully she’d help me out with the
assignment at the same time.

I’d brought a recorder to school for this
purpose and was now carrying it around with my books.

Tony and I walked down the hallway to our
first class. As though he’d just thought of it, Tony said, “I
called Rachel last night and we talked for over an hour. I think
I’ll ask her to go out with me.” He paused for a moment to say
hello to some guys we’d just passed, then returned his attention to
me. “Maybe it would help your chances with Serena if we all, you
know, went out together and did something.”

“Like what?” I said this not so much as a
question, but as a protest. The fact which I had not forgotten, but
apparently Tony had, was that we were only thirteen years old.
Anywhere we went, we would have to walk, bike, or have our parents
drive us. I was not thrilled about any of these options. I mean,
how impressed would a girl on crutches be if you asked her if she
wanted to walk to the movies with you? Having your parents drive
you would be almost as bad. It was hard enough to talk to a girl.
It would be impossible to do while your parents listened in from
the front seat of the family car. I could just imagine the comments
I’d get from my parents. As we got out at the movie theater, they’d
say: “You didn’t forget your money, did you, McKay?” or “Remember,
a gentleman always holds the door open for his date,” or worse yet,
“Be sure you go to the bathroom before the movie starts.” It would
be awful. I just knew it.

Besides, my parents didn’t want me to date
until I was sixteen. And really, that seemed like the best time to
me. At sixteen I’d have my own driver’s license and a summer job.
That would mean I could actually take a girl out to dinner. Right
now, with only my allowance money to depend on, we’d only be able
to go to the nearest vending machine.

Tony shrugged his shoulders. “I don’t know. I
just thought it would be fun if we all did something together.
Maybe we could go somewhere and hang out.”

“Serena’s knee is hurt. She can only hang out
on her couch.”

“Oh, that’s right,” Tony seemed a bit
disappointed. “I guess she won’t be much fun for a while. Maybe
I’ll just ask Rachel to do something.”

Tony didn’t bring up the subject again after
that, and we both went to our first class. I didn’t usually see him
again until it was time to go to algebra class. I waited for him by
my locker like I always did, but today he didn’t show up. Finally I
walked over to Mrs. Swenson’s room by myself.