Nobody's Fool by Barbara Meyers

him, the fastening bit into the skin of his leg. He took one last stumbling step before he went down on the far side of the line. Without even trying he broke Jolie’s fall. She ended up on top of him, laughing. She glanced down the length of the track. “It wasn’t pretty. But I think we won.”
    Speech escaped him so he just nodded while he absorbed the sensation of Jolie atop him. Without thinking, he curled his fingers in her hair, pushing it back away from her face, memorizing the texture of it, his mind a million miles away. “Great,” he finally answered.
    “Our winners are Court Harrison and Jolie Kramer,” Erin blow-horned from about three feet away. “Let’s give them a big round of applause.” Half-hearted hand clapping was offered from the other competitors. Those not involved clapped slightly louder.
    “You two can get up now,” Erin said, not bothering to lower the blow horn. “Game’s over.”
    Her words managed to filter their way into Court’s head. Jolie hadn’t made any effort to get off him. He didn’t know what to think about that. He half sat up and she slid to his side and began undoing the ties.
    “That was fun. When’s the last time you were in a three-legged race?” Then in the next breath she said, “Oh, no.” She’d discovered a red welt where the skin on Court’s leg had been rubbed raw. She stroked it with her fingertips. He sucked in his breath. The scrapes stung, but her touch added a whole new kind of heat. “We should put some ice on that.” She inspected the inside of his thigh as well.
    If he didn’t put a stop to this soon, she was going to have something else to inspect. He got up awkwardly, pushing her aside. “I’ll be okay. It’s no big deal.” He offered her his hand and she got to her feet.
    “Okay, everybody, next game. Let’s form lines, as many as we can, ten people in each, boy, girl, boy, girl. Sarah’s going to give the person at the head of each line a Life Saver. Everyone gets a toothpick. Put your toothpick between your lips. The goal is to pass the Life Saver from toothpick to toothpick, down the line. First team to get it to the last person in their line without dropping it wins. If you drop it, you have to start over.”
    “Where did Erin come up with these games?” Jolie whispered to Court as they took up positions at the end of one line. Sarah handed them each a toothpick. “A time machine?”
    “It’s good clean fun,” Court reminded her. The heads of each line were given their Life Savers and the game began.
    They watched as a couple of the teams lost their candies and had to start over. “Our class seems to have a bit of trouble working together,” Jolie observed.
    No one was taking the game seriously, except for some of the former jocks who considered everything in life a competition, moaning and groaning at their teammates’ incompetence. “Step it up!” one shouted like it was the last chance for a Super Bowl win.
    More Life Savers landed on the ground and more teams had to start over. “At this rate we’ll run out of candy before anyone wins.”
    “What’s the matter? Are you bored?” Court asked.
    “Not at all,” she answered, surprised to discover it was true. She was enjoying herself in a way she hadn’t in, well, she couldn’t remember when. Playing these stupid games in the park on a fall day with her old classmates was surprisingly liberating. Perhaps she’d been afraid she’d lost the ability to have simple fun or to know what it was when it occurred.
    Besides Val, she had a small circle of friends in New York and enjoyed Sunday brunches with them, movie or theatre dates, the occasional concert or Knicks game.
    But on those social outings she sometimes felt like a lab rat in a controlled environment. Always concerned about her appearance, contributing something clever to the conversation, learning about the hottest new restaurant or boutique before anyone else. She couldn’t let go and be