War and Watermelon by Rich Wallace

Author:Rich Wallace
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Penguin Group USA, Inc.
Published: 2011-02-18T05:00:00+00:00

TUESDAY, AUGUST 26:

Pushing the Limit

Five laps today, which is at least a mile. Me and Tony race to the front and get way ahead of everybody—they’re all either tired from scrimmaging or slow. But we cut the pace after one lap, running comfortably enough to talk but also fast enough so the coaches won’t yell at us.

“You been working on your moves?” Tony asks.

“What moves?” I haven’t touched the ball since that fumble.

“For Thursday night.”

“Oh.” I make a hard turn and cut through the end zone. “I know how to dance; I don’t have to practice.” That isn’t true at all, but I don’t plan to do any dancing anyway.

“Not dance moves,” he says. “You know, after, when we’re walking them home.”

I hadn’t thought about that. Nobody said anything about walking them home. We don’t even know if they’ll show up. Or if any of us will get into the dance.

We finish the second lap. A few of the linemen are just a short distance ahead of us, finishing their first.

“You might as well try,” Tony says. “See if you can get anywhere with her. At least kiss her for a few seconds.”

I’m not sure which one he means by “her.” Or where this great make-out scene might take place.

“If nothing else, you gotta split her off from Patty for me,” he says. “Get me some alone time.”

“So you’ll be with Patty, huh?”

“Whataya think? I’m the one who set this thing up, so I get the . . . so I get Patty.”

And I get Janet. Nothing wrong with her, but I’m seeing it differently. No way Patty likes Tony. I don’t know what she thinks of me, but all I see when she has to look at Tony is disgust.

I start running a little faster now. He keeps up, but I can tell that he’s starting to breathe harder.

“What I’m hoping to do is take them over to the Little League fields,” he says. The fields are adjacent to the swim club.

“You planning to play baseball?” I intend it as a joke, but he just sneers.

“Dugouts are nice and secluded, especially at night.” He holds up his right hand and makes some squeezing motions.

I go faster and move five yards ahead of him. I’m not in the mood for his daydreaming.

“Who you racing?” he says.

I glance over my shoulder. “Come on.” And I turn the heat up even more.

I can hear him panting now, trying to catch me. But I’m pulling away from him. After four laps he’s thirty yards behind, and I run the last one at full speed, lapping almost everybody else on the team.

Nobody seems to notice, as usual.

Tony doesn’t say anything after he joins me on the sideline, where I’m waiting for everybody else to finish. He’s got his hands on his knees and he coughs a couple of times. I could run five more laps.

Coach yells at some of the linemen as they finish and try to sit down. “Walk it off!” he says. “We got too many people close to the limit.

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