Riot (Fesler-Lampert Minnesota Heritage) by Casanova Mary

Author:Casanova, Mary [Casanova, Mary]
Language: eng
Format: azw3
Publisher: University of Minnesota Press
Published: 2014-01-31T16:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER TEN

By lunch break of the first day of school, Bryan had heard the word “hero” twenty-three times. He swore to himself that the next person who mentioned it, he’d grab by the collar and …

“How about a game of kickball?” Kyle said, tossing the black-and-white soccer ball into the air and catching it in both hands. The sky was clear sapphire and breezy. “You and I’ll pick teams.”

“Sounds good.” Bryan looked past the swarm of kids jumping rope, chasing each other, and practicing dance moves next to their tape players. Chelsie stood on the fringe of a cluster of girls near the school doors, the breeze playing with her high ponytail. “Just a second,” he said.

He walked over to her.

“Want to play kickball?” he asked. The other three girls stopped talking and huddled closer.

Chelsie looked up at Bryan. If she said no, he’d feel really stupid. She didn’t answer right away.

“This isn’t a joke, is it?” she asked, sounding angry.

“What? No, I was just wondering if you wanted to play kickball.”

Chelsie looked down, then pulled her ponytail across her shoulder and began twisting a few strands of hair into a tight rope. “First,” she began, “they said that you said that Cam wasn’t really worth saving, because … because … he was a …”

Bryan knew exactly what she was going to say. The word suddenly seemed like a four-letter word. Bryan lowered his voice and stepped closer, his back to the other girls. “Because he’s a ‘rat,’ right?” He studied her face. Chelsie glared at him. “You said it then! I thought you were different.”

“No,” Bryan said. He shook his head. “No, I didn’t say anything like that. It’s not true.”

Chelsie looked hard at him. “You mean, you didn’t say it?”

“No.” He drew an imaginary X over his chest, but as he did so, he guiltily saw himself spilling tacks into the street. He tried to ignore the picture. He could never tell Chelsie about any of that.

Chelsie waited. “So you don’t regret saving Cam?”

“Course not. Is the interrogation over?” he asked. “Can we play kickball now?”

Chelsie nodded. “Sure.”

Bryan picked one team; Kyle picked the other. The teams were divided thirteen to twelve, half boys and half girls. Chelsie was Bryan’s first pick.

Bryan’s team sat in the grass. He watched Chelsie go up to kick. Green shirt billowing, she stood behind the white plastic plate, her legs bent, her body leaning slightly forward. Her eyes were fixed on the ball in the pitcher’s hands.

Anders Kent, the school’s best kickball player, rolled the ball toward her. The game was a tie, 8-8, with only seconds left before the bell rang.

Bryan chewed on the white end of a blade of grass. He wanted to cheer on Chelsie, but he didn’t want to be that conspicuous. Everyone would think he liked her.

The ball rolled closer and closer to the base. Chelsie swung her leg back, as if to smash it. Then, when the ball was over the white plate, she kicked it gently with the inside of her foot and raced toward first base.

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