It was becoming extremely difficult just to be anywhere near Cal. He made me nervous, and he knew he did. We both knew we were playing at some fake friendly game, but neither one of us would voice it aloud.
“Last minute. Ms. Kerrigan asked me to help you out,” he explained. “She, uh, viewed those last pictures you took and thought you might need some help.”
I shifted uncomfortably. The last pictures I took were of the swim team “practice” where Tim almost drowned me. I wanted so much to say something to Cal about it, but I knew he would accuse me of being crazy, say that Tim was just goofing off even if it was a bit rough, and that I needed to stop being such a drama queen.
“So, is it okay that I’m here?” he asked.
“Sure,” I replied. “In fact, you could just take over if you want.”
That worked for me. It meant I could get to Ryan’s house a whole lot sooner.
“No no,” Cal said, laughing. “You’re not getting out of it that easily. You’ve gotta take notes for your page summary and little picture captions, huh?”
I shrugged and nodded. “I guess you’re right.” I handed the camera to Cal and pulled a pen out of my book bag. There was something inherently wrong with taking notes on a Friday afternoon after school. I sighed and put pen to paper.
“So how are things going with Ryan?” Cal asked.
I jumped in my seat, and Cal noticed.
“What? I can’t ask you about him?” he said.
I thought for a moment. “You said he was crazy. I just assumed you wouldn’t think it was a good idea, me dating him and all.”
“Well, I don’t think it’s a good idea. But I’ve learned that you’re gonna do what you want,” Cal replied.
I bristled. “He’s nice to me, and I like him.”
“That’s good,” Cal said. He snapped a shot of one of our players sliding into first base.
I’m not quite sure I understood Cal’s statement that I was going to do what I wanted. I didn’t think I really ever gave him the opportunity to see who I truly was, apart from the bowling date. And that really wasn’t completely me. I’m not normally an angry person. Parker brought out those colors, but it wasn’t the full picture. The full picture was one of a girl who was trying to make up for past mistakes, be loyal to her deceased friend, be a good person.
I said very little to Cal as the game continued. I mostly took notes or doodled when nothing was going on or I didn’t understand what was going on. I did ask him baseball terminology from time to time, and he answered happily enough.
Well into the fifth inning, he asked if I wanted something from the concession stand.
“A Sprite,” I replied, half distracted on my cell phone with Dad. “Thanks.”
Cal returned with two Sprites, uncapping both bottles for us while I took a few hasty notes about a recent homerun. It was the middle of May, but it felt like summer decided to visit early. The sun was blazing, and I was thirsty. After downing half the bottle in one gulp, I thought it would have been better to get water instead. Beads of sweat broke out around my hairline, and the back of my neck felt oddly stiff.
I tried to concentrate on my note-taking, but the words on the page kept going in and out of focus. I looked out on to the field, and asked Cal why there were three players on first base.
“There’s only one player, Brooke,” Cal replied.
I shook my head and chalked the whole thing up to being dehydrated. I finished my Sprite and thought about purchasing a water.
“You okay?” Cal asked, looking at me with furrowed brows. Actually, there were five Cals, and they were rotating counter clockwise. “Brooke?”
“I feel funny,” I said. I slurred it, I think, and tried to push my pen behind my ear. I missed my ear completely, and the pen fell back behind me somewhere. I turned around to look for it, clutching someone’s knees behind me to steady myself. “Sorry,” I mumbled when she jerked her legs aside, and forgot why I had turned around.
“Brooke? You don’t look so good,” Cal said. “You’re all white and stuff.”
“Well, I’m a white girl, Cal,” I replied, then giggled. It wasn’t even funny, but for some reason I thought it was the funniest thing I’d ever said. I laughed hard, watching as my spiral notebook slid off my lap and on to the ground. Cal picked it up and put it in my book bag.
“Come on, Brooke,” he said, lifting me up by my upper arm. “Let’s get you some water. You must be sun dazed or something.”
I laughed again. I thought “sun dazed” sounded funny. I kept repeating the words over and over until they sounded strange in my mouth.
I stumbled behind Cal who walked me to the student parking lot. I watched him rummage around in my book bag for my keys, open my car door, and throw my bag in. He tucked my keys in his pants pocket.