The plan: Everyone who signed up to play was assigned to a team, rather than allowed to pick their own team. And I don’t think the teams were entirely randomly assigned; when Gretchen and I looked over the team lists, Gretchen noted that almost none of the teams had more than one player from the same world; even Enzo and Magdy were put on different teams. The only kids who were on the same “team” were the Kyotoans; as Colonial Mennonites they avoided playing in competitive sports, so they asked to be the referees instead.
Gretchen and I didn’t sign up for any teams; we appointed ourselves league managers and no one called us on it; apparently word of the intense mockery we laid on a wild pack of teenage boys had gotten around and we were feared and awed equally. “That makes me feel pretty,” Gretchen said, once such a thing was told to her by one of her friends from Erie. We were watching the first game of the series, with the Leopards playing against the Mighty Red Balls, presumably named after the game equipment. I don’t think I approved of the team name, myself.
“Speaking of which, how was your date last night?” I asked.
“It was a little grabby,” Gretchen said.
“You want me to have Hickory and Dickory talk to him?” I asked.
“No, it was manageable,” Gretchen said. “And besides which, your alien friends creep me out. No offense.”
“None taken,” I said. “They really are nice.”
“They’re your bodyguards,” Gretchen said. “They’re not supposed to be nice. They’re supposed to scare the pee out of people. And they do. I’m just glad they don’t follow you around all the time. No one would ever come talk to us.”
In fact, I hadn’t seen either Hickory or Dickory since the day before and our conversation about touring the Obin planets. I wondered if I had managed to hurt their feelings. I was going to have to check in on them to see how they were.
“Hey, your boyfriend just picked off one of the Leopards,” Gretchen said. She pointed at Enzo, who was playing in the game.
“He’s not my boyfriend, any more than Magdy is yours,” I said.
“Is he as grabby as Magdy is?” Gretchen asked.
“What a question,” I said. “How dare you ask. I’m madly offended.”
“That’s a yes, then,” Gretchen said.
“No, it’s not,” I said. “He’s been perfectly nice. He even sent me a poem.”
“He did not,” Gretchen said. I showed it to her on my PDA. She handed it back. “You get the poetry writer. I get the grabber. It’s really not fair. You want to trade?”
“Not a chance,” I said. “But he not’s my boyfriend.”
Gretchen nodded out to Enzo. “Have you asked him about that?”
I looked over to Enzo, who sure enough was sneaking looks my way while moving around the dodgeball field. He saw I was looking his way, smiled over at me and nodded, and as he was doing that he got nailed righteously hard in the ear by the dodgeball and went down with a thump.
I burst out laughing.
“Oh, nice,” Gretchen said. “Laughing at your boyfriend’s pain.”
“I know! I’m so bad!” I said, and just about toppled over.
“You don’t deserve him,” Gretchen said, sourly. “You don’t deserve his poem. Give them both to me.”
“Not a chance,” I said, and then looked up and saw Enzo there in front of me. I reflexively put my hand over my mouth.
“Too late,” he said. Which of course made me laugh even more.
“She’s mocking your pain,” Gretchen said, to Enzo. “Mocking it, you hear me.”
“Oh, God, I’m so sorry,” I said, between laughs, and before I thought about what I was doing gave Enzo a hug.
“She’s trying to distract you from her evil,” Gretchen warned.
“It’s working,” Enzo said.
“Oh, fine,” Gretchen said. “See if I warn you about her evil ways after this.” She very dramatically focused back on the game, only occasionally glancing over and grinning at me.
I unhugged from Enzo. “I’m not actually evil,” I said.
“No, just amused at the pain of others,” Enzo said.
“You walked off the court,” I said. “It can’t have hurt that much.”
“There’s pain you can’t see,” Enzo said. “Existential pain.”
“Oh, boy,” I said. “If you’re having existential pain from dodgeball, you’re really just doing it wrong.”
“I don’t think you appreciate the philosophical subtleties of the sport,” Enzo said. I started giggling again. “Stop it,” Enzo said mildly. “I’m being serious here.”
“I so hope you’re not,” I said, and giggled some more. “You want to get lunch?”
“Love to,” Enzo said. “Just give me a minute to extract this dodgeball from my Eustachian tube.”
It was the first time I had ever heard anyone use the phrase “Eustachian tube” in common conversation. I think I may have fallen a little bit in love with him right there.
“I haven’t seen the two of you around much today,” I said to Hickory and Dickory, in their quarters.
“We are aware that we make many of your fellow colonists uncomfortable,” Hickory said. It and Dickory sat on stools that were designed to accommodate their body shape; otherwise their quarters were bare. The Obin may have gained consciousness and even recently tried their hand at storytelling, but the mysteries of interior decoration still clearly eluded them. “It was decided it would be best for us to stay out of the way.”