Rooster by Don Trembath

Author:Don Trembath
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: ebook, JUV000000
Publisher: Orca Book Publishers
Published: 2005-06-01T04:00:00+00:00

8

Halfway through the first game, Percival went crazy after he picked up a ball Roseann had touched with her wet fingers.

“I could get sick!” he shrieked. “Who knows where her fingers have been!”

“In my mouth,” said Roseann, who was unmoved by Percival’s hysterics.

“I can’t bowl like this!” He stomped off toward the washroom, holding his hand in the air as if it was gushing blood.

Back at the scorer’s table, Roseann took a seat beside Tim. “What’s the matter with you?” she said, sucking her fingers again. Standing next to them, Dorothy-Jane-Anne prepared to throw the first ball of her next turn.

“I’m not sure,” said Tim. He was hunched over the score sheet, covering it like someone trying to light a fire in the rain. He was trying to calculate the adjustments Roseann had made to her score. “I don’t think your scores add up.”

Roseann leaned closer to hear him over the clatter and noise around them. “Huh?” she said.

“I don’t think your scores add up.”

She leaned closer. “What?”

“I don’t think your scores add up.”

She frowned. “Who are you talking about?”

“Who am I talking about? I’m talking about you. I don’t think your scores add up.”

She took her fingers fully out of her mouth and wiped them on her shirt. “What do you mean, my scores don’t add up? They do so add up. I did them myself.”

“I don’t know if they do or not,” said Tim. “That’s what I’m trying to figure out.”

“Are you calling me a cheater?”

“I might have to. I’ll have to see.”

Behind them all, standing with his arms crossed and a slightly frightened look on his face, was Rooster. The start of the night had gone reasonably well for him: he’d helped them with their bowling shoes and gotten them settled in the proper lane. He came up with the idea of picking numbers between one and twenty to determine their order on the score card.

“Eleven,” said Roseann, after thinking for some time.

“Eight,” said Dorothy-Jane-Anne.

“Eleven,” said Tim.

“You can’t pick eleven,” said Rooster. “Roseann took eleven already. You have to pick something else.”

“Okay, okay. How about eight?”

“You can’t take eight. Dorothy-Jane-Anne took eight.”

“Oh, I see. I see. I get it now. Okay then. I can’t take eleven and I can’t take eight. How about … one. Can I take one?”

“You can take one. That’s a good number.”

“Seventeen!” shrieked Percival.

The number he had thought of was five, making the order Dorothy-Jane-Anne first, followed by Tim, Roseann and Percival.

“Yippee!” said Dorothy-Jane-Anne. “I get to go first!”

“No fair,” said Roseann.

The first few rounds of bowling went smoothly. The bumper pads were in place along the gutters. Tim announced that he would take care of the scoring. In hindsight, that was probably the first decision Rooster wished he hadn’t agreed with.

“You got fourteen. Then you got eleven. Then you got six. Then you got three. Then you got eight.” Tim reviewed Roseann’s scores with her.

“So? What’s wrong with that?”

“Nothing. Nothing’s wrong with it. Nothing’s wrong with it at all. I just don’t think it adds up to ninety-three.

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