Zack, and she wouldn’t even tell me about it.
I t’s the day of Hector’s first scheduled start at Abbott Memorial Stadium, and Casey and I are walking over to the concession stands like we always do before the game. Suddenly I freeze. My legs feel like they’re made of cement, and the hunger I felt on the car ride to the stadium vanishes. I don’t want to eat anything. Not from the concession stands, at least.
“Quinnen, come on!” Casey yells.
“I’m going to go sit down,” I say, but it comes out a near whisper. “I don’t feel so great.”
“But the game’s starting soon. We gotta get food now or—” He remembers. “Can I buy something for you?”
“As long as you don’t eat it first.”
Casey glares at me but then breaks into a smile.
“A hot dog and fries.” I hand him the crumpled ten from my pocket.
“I’m not gonna do this for you forever. You know, you can’t keep avoiding him.”
“Yeah, I can.” I walk to our seats, my heart calming down with each step I take away from the smells I love and the person I hate.
Banjo stops by and gets me to rub his furry raccoon belly while I wait for Casey. Ten minutes later, Casey arrives with a huge soda, a hot dog, and fries for me and corn on the cob, a tuna sandwich, and bottled water for him.
“They sell tuna sandwiches here? I don’t remember ever seeing them for sale. They aren’t even fried.”
“There’s a new booth this year,” he says. “With healthy food where they take out the
wu-tang
and don’t put any sugar in.”
“Take out the
wu-tang
?”
“Isn’t that what they call it? It makes you go crazy, and it makes some people sick.” He shakes his head. “I don’t know. My mom thinks I shouldn’t have so much
wu-tang
anymore.”
“I think it’s called
gluten.
You sure you don’t want some fries?” I dangle one in front of his face. It has so much salt on it that it sparkles.
“Stop it. Of course I want one.”
“Then why can’t you have one?”
Casey doesn’t say anything at first. He takes the wrapper off his sandwich. “Mom doesn’t want me to end up looking like Pablo Sandoval.”
“But he’s such a good hitter.”
“I know. It’s okay, though. I’d rather look like Hector or Brandon. I bet they eat real healthy and work out all the time.”
I don’t tell him that Brandon eats more than anyone I’ve ever met.
The loudspeaker squeaks. “Attention. Would Quinnen Donnelly please come to the information booth?”
I bolt out of my seat. “Hold this.” I practically throw my hot dog onto Casey’s lap before running over to the information booth, my heart beating so loud in my chest it might as well be broadcast over the speakers. My legs are shaking when I get there.
“Quinnen! Just the young lady we were looking for,” says the woman wearing a nice Bandits polo shirt. She’s smiling and waving at me.
“What’s wrong? Did my mom call?”
“ ‘What’s wrong?’ ” She looks confused. “Oh, sweetie. I’m so sorry. I probably gave you a heart attack. Our volunteer to read the starting lineup is tied up in traffic and he’s not going to make it in time. We thought perhaps you’d like to help us out today.”
Her words are like someone strapping an oxygen mask over my face. I can breathe again. Even though I’ve been singled out a million times before and it’s never been a big deal, after last summer I can only think of one reason for someone to call out my name on the loudspeaker: something bad happening to someone I love.
I take a deep breath. “Sure.” I smile back at her so she knows I’m fine.
You’re going to read the starting lineup,
I tell myself.
It’s okay.
I follow her up the stairs to the announcer’s booth, behind home plate. The announcer is staring out a big window with the most perfect view of the diamond. There’s a lady next to him with stacks of papers she keeps shuffling and handing to him. She talks really fast, like she’s had one too many
I t’s the day of Hector’s first scheduled start at Abbott Memorial Stadium, and Casey and I are walking over to the concession stands like we always do before the game. Suddenly I freeze. My legs feel like they’re made of cement, and the hunger I felt on the car ride to the stadium vanishes. I don’t want to eat anything. Not from the concession stands, at least.
“Quinnen, come on!” Casey yells.
“I’m going to go sit down,” I say, but it comes out a near whisper. “I don’t feel so great.”
“But the game’s starting soon. We gotta get food now or—” He remembers. “Can I buy something for you?”
“As long as you don’t eat it first.”
Casey glares at me but then breaks into a smile.
“A hot dog and fries.” I hand him the crumpled ten from my pocket.
“I’m not gonna do this for you forever. You know, you can’t keep avoiding him.”
“Yeah, I can.” I walk to our seats, my heart calming down with each step I take away from the smells I love and the person I hate.
Banjo stops by and gets me to rub his furry raccoon belly while I wait for Casey. Ten minutes later, Casey arrives with a huge soda, a hot dog, and fries for me and corn on the cob, a tuna sandwich, and bottled water for him.
“They sell tuna sandwiches here? I don’t remember ever seeing them for sale. They aren’t even fried.”
“There’s a new booth this year,” he says. “With healthy food where they take out the
wu-tang
and don’t put any sugar in.”
“Take out the
wu-tang
?”
“Isn’t that what they call it? It makes you go crazy, and it makes some people sick.” He shakes his head. “I don’t know. My mom thinks I shouldn’t have so much
wu-tang
anymore.”
“I think it’s called
gluten.
You sure you don’t want some fries?” I dangle one in front of his face. It has so much salt on it that it sparkles.
“Stop it. Of course I want one.”
“Then why can’t you have one?”
Casey doesn’t say anything at first. He takes the wrapper off his sandwich. “Mom doesn’t want me to end up looking like Pablo Sandoval.”
“But he’s such a good hitter.”
“I know. It’s okay, though. I’d rather look like Hector or Brandon. I bet they eat real healthy and work out all the time.”
I don’t tell him that Brandon eats more than anyone I’ve ever met.
The loudspeaker squeaks. “Attention. Would Quinnen Donnelly please come to the information booth?”
I bolt out of my seat. “Hold this.” I practically throw my hot dog onto Casey’s lap before running over to the information booth, my heart beating so loud in my chest it might as well be broadcast over the speakers. My legs are shaking when I get there.
“Quinnen! Just the young lady we were looking for,” says the woman wearing a nice Bandits polo shirt. She’s smiling and waving at me.
“What’s wrong? Did my mom call?”
“ ‘What’s wrong?’ ” She looks confused. “Oh, sweetie. I’m so sorry. I probably gave you a heart attack. Our volunteer to read the starting lineup is tied up in traffic and he’s not going to make it in time. We thought perhaps you’d like to help us out today.”
Her words are like someone strapping an oxygen mask over my face. I can breathe again. Even though I’ve been singled out a million times before and it’s never been a big deal, after last summer I can only think of one reason for someone to call out my name on the loudspeaker: something bad happening to someone I love.
I take a deep breath. “Sure.” I smile back at her so she knows I’m fine.
You’re going to read the starting lineup,
I tell myself.
It’s okay.
I follow her up the stairs to the announcer’s booth, behind home plate. The announcer is staring out a big window with the most perfect view of the diamond. There’s a lady next to him with stacks of papers she keeps shuffling and handing to him. She talks really fast, like she’s had one too many
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