The Perfect Couple

22

Nancy and I had always been friends, but she looked daggers at me now. "You can stick up for her if you want to, but I'm never going to speak to her again."

Mary had come out by now and was standing by herself. I would have felt awful not having anyone to talk to, but you could see it didn't bother her. She seemed to be thousands of miles away . . . probably in some place like New York or Dallas.

"I'm glad I'm not on her team," Nancy muttered, looking at Mary. "I wouldn't play if she was my captain."

We weren't in a league yet because soccer was new to Bayside, but two intramural teams had been formed. I was the captain of the A's and Mary captained the Z's. Those were the names Mrs. Frey had given us because she said that was she wanted us to learn the game from A to Z.

"All right, girls, let's play soccer!" She came running out on the field now, blowing her whistle and clapping her hands. She was young and peppy and we all liked her even though she drove us hard. "Come on, come on, let's look alive!" She was trying to get us into the spirit of the game, but it happened that I didn't need any encouragement to put my whole heart into it.

There are something's that when you do them they feel right and good, as if you'd been born to do them. That's the way I felt about soccer. The first time I headed the ball perfectly I must have jumped three feet in the air, yelling with joy. There's only a small area on your forehead that's just right for making contact with the ball and you can't flinch, although that's the natural thing to do. I'd never forget that first time when I put it all together.

Mrs. Frey blew the whistle again and the game started. I played like I was on fire. Mary played like a robot perfectly, but without emotion. I think I inspired my team more than she did hers because the A's won more often than the Z's and we won again that afternoon for my second victory of the day.

"How was school?" Mom asked. She was in the kitchen and from the stuff I saw scattered on the drainboard I knew we were in for one of her culinary experiments. Over the weekend she usually gave us a break, cooking a roast or chicken or some normal food. But during the week she tried out recipes she'd print in her column to see if they didn't kill us.

I considered her question. How had school been? Well, let's see. . . I'd flirted with the top boy on campus that day and he'd ended up flirting back almost. Marcus had acted funny and I wasn't sure why. My team had won the soccer match and I couldn't have been more thrilled if it was the World Cup. I'd gotten a B on an English test when I'd been afraid I'd flunk it. "Um, it was okay," I answered Mom's question. I used to tell her everything, but sometimes now I couldn't seem to tell her anything.

"Do you have homework to do?"

"I'm going to do it after dinner. Kim's coming over then and we'll study together."

"Do you really get any studying done with the two of you?" Mom put on her reading glasses to consult the recipe book. "One tablespoon of shoyu," she told herself. "Sure," I said. "What are you cooking?"

"Matsutake Dobin Mushi, only I don't have small earthenware teapots, so I'm using a casserole dish."

"East Indian?" I guessed.

"Japanese." She opened a can of chestnuts. "I don't see how you can study with someone else."

"It's easy. We help each other."

"And I suppose you'll have the radio on?"

"Naturally."

"I should think it would be distracting."

I'd given up a long time ago trying to close the generation gap, so I poured a glass of milk, grabbed a couple of oatmeal cookies and went down the street to Marcus's.

Megan was shooting baskets or trying to. "The ball won't go in," she whined when she saw me.

"Funny. It does for Magic Johnson."

She flashed her sudden grin that could be pretty blinding when the sun caught her braces. "I guess I just have to keep practicing, huh?"

"I guess you do. Is Marcus home?"

"Nope. He called and said he'd be late."

"Did he say why or were he be?"

There was an odd, tight feeling in my chest. Marcus usually let me in on his plans.

"Nope." Megan suddenly felt aggrieved. "He gets to do anything he wants to. I don't get to do nothing."

"Anything," I corrected absently. Where could he be? I hadn't seen him since noon and he's been acting pretty funny then. "I'm getting so I notice girls a lot," he'd told me last Saturday.

Megan was gawking up at me. "Are you and Marcus in love now?" She asked.

"Why don't you ask him?"

"I did, but he told me to mind my own beeswax."

She wasn't my sister or I would have seconded the motion. "We're real good friends," I answered carefully.

"But that isn't like being in love, is it?"

"Oh, I don't know. It's pretty close."

"Then I guess I'm in love with Benjamin Banks, because we're friends."

Had I ever been twelve? I wondered. Yes, I had been and I could just barely remember what a Mr everything in the world had been to me then.

"Just don't pick out your trousseau yet," I told her.

"What's a trousseau?"

Iceland the gate behind me so I could pretend I haven't heard her.