Head held high, I stepped up onto the smooth wood floor getting into position like those around me. Tentatively, I swung my arm back while taking a step forward. A buzzer sounded scaring me into dropping the ball abruptly on the forward swing rather than smoothly releasing it.
“You stepped over the foul line,” an older man from the next lane said with a kind smile. He’d just released his ball as well, but it accurately flew down the lane crashing into the pins. The group of men waiting behind him, all wearing the same shirt, watched me.
I will not blush. “Uh, thanks.” Too bad my heating cheeks didn’t listen to me. I turned and walked toward the ball return focusing on that instead of their stares. The ball return had been one of the favorite parts of bowling in the past. It amazed me how the system could spit it right back out.
Glancing at Morik, I saw he watched the group of men who still watched me. I nudged his foot to get his attention and whispered, “Told you should have gone first.” Then, I stuck out my tongue at him playfully. It had the desired result. The orange building in his eyes behind his yellow glasses faded instantly.
Executing the second try with more finesse than the first, the ball sailed straight down the alley knocking over several of the pins. No buzzer. With relief, I sat next to Morik my turn over for the moment. He grinned at me as he stood and removed his ball from the return.
He moved with grace releasing the ball in a fluid motion that the group next to us noticed. It flew down the lane knocking over all of the pins. Even over the noise of the games, and the music piping over the sound system, the crashing sound seemed a little harsher than the ones around us. I stared at the end of the alley spotting a tiny piece of something in the pin area.
In the lane next to us, I overheard one of the older men asking another, “did you see that?”
When he came back to the ball return, I quickly popped up to whisper a warning about our audience. I wasn’t sure, but had the feeling it wasn’t exactly normal to crack pins during bowling.
Taking my turn, I knocked down a total of eight pins between my two tries. Morik again threw a strike. He didn’t crack any pins this time apparently taking my prior warning in consideration. The men in the group next to us took turns watching us.
Worried that Morik’s skill on top of his already unusual appearance would draw unwanted attention, I set out to distract him from his game. Okay, fine. I just didn’t want him to score so much higher than me.
When he was about to throw his next ball, I said quietly, “I’m really thirsty.” As I suspected, he heard me just fine, and it distracted him enough to throw off his roll to avoid another strike.
He turned and asked me what I’d like then went to the counter. He came back with two sodas, which he set on the table behind our lane before going back to finish his turn.
Since three pins remained, one to the right and two to the left, I didn’t think he’d get them all. He proved me wrong.
Disgruntled, but hiding it well, I took my turn. I felt more comfortable releasing the ball and no longer worried about my fingers sticking, although I still didn’t attempt to put them in any further. Trying to mimic Morik’s fluid form, I managed to get seven of the pins down leaving three on the far right. By sheer luck, I gained a spare.
Moving out of our bowling area, I picked up my soda and waited until he was about to release the ball before taking a sip. The loud slurp caused a gutter ball and I almost choked on the soda trying not to laugh. He turned to look at me his face carefully blank. When he caught my smirk, he shook his head a slight twitch in his lips indicating he knew my game.
After that, he returned the favor, each of us trying one distraction after another. With my already poor game, nothing he tried made much difference in my performance.
By the eighth panel, the man behind the counter brought a pizza over to our table. Moving away from Morik while he walked to the ball return, I caught the brown swirling in his eyes and his barely suppressed smile. He enjoyed the game we played and not just the bowling.
I plucked a piece of pepperoni off the top of the pizza and waited for his approach to plop it in my mouth humming with delight. He swung the ball back, but I sensed his distraction. I picked another piece off and whispered, “Do you want a taste?”
His head whipped around as the ball flew from his fingers. He watched me as I watched the ball. Gutter ball. In the next lane’s gutter! I started laughed holding up the piece of pepperoni. Thankfully, no one currently used that lane.
He glanced back at the ball and then stalked toward me. Even the group of men next to us laughed, having caught on to our antics early on. Morik didn’t laugh though as he approached. Black consumed his eyes.
My laughter died, but my smile remained. He didn’t worry me.