The Constellations

After Saturday practices

aFTEr saTurday pracTicEs, Coach Garland hung around to talk with parents and coaches. That left Eric with time to fill before he was taken home. He crossed the street to Nathan Jail and bounced a baseball against the wall to practice catching high flies. Dirt covered his back and behind.Johnny Garland,continuing a team tradition, plowed over all of the smaller players manning second base during the stolen-base drill. Eric, holding his glove shut with his bare hand, was sent flying three times, as was the ball. He had, however, hit the ball twice during batting practice. Both hits landed behind first base near the end of the bleachers. “Little late on your swing,”Coach Garland said.On the next pitch Eric let her rip before the ball was halfway to home plate.That got a good laugh. Still, two fouls. Mrs. Garland picked up her boys—Eric remembered his mom used to say they were being taken back into custody—but Julie remained. She dug her father’s glove out of the equipment bag and joined Eric at the wall. Without asking she brushed off his back and behind. “You look like Pig-Pen,” she exclaimed, waving away the dust. “I wouldn’t if your stupid brother didn’t knock me down.” Julie wriggled her hand into the glove.“Will you throw me some?” “You can throw if you want,” Eric said. “You make it do better pop-ups.” So Eric did the throwing. Through experimentation he had learned that standing closer to the wall allowed him to throw at a steeper angle. That in turn caused the ball to pop higher in the air. He watched in admiration as Julie chased down every throw. She whipped her limbs in all directions, contorting her body for her crazy jumps, heedless of tumbling on the cement, spinning to 60 The Constellations throw the ball back to him and holding her pose until he caught it, when he caught it. “I’m better than you,” she said. “I know,” he groaned. “You got two good hits, though.” That thrilled him, but he said,“They were fouls.” “Everyone hits fouls. Stop throwing. I’m sweating.” She walked forward, dropped the ball in his glove. “Joel says you’re a knowit -all about astrology.” “It’s astronomy,” Eric said.“No, I’m not. Joel’s a know-it-all. He thinks he knows everything about sports.” “Emily Kruger said she wishes you’d go back to your old school.” Feeling his cheeks burning, Eric turned and tossed the ball. It came back as a grounder. “At least I don’t throw up at school every week.” “That’s not her fault.” “It’s not my fault I’m at this cruddy school, either.” “She’s got a nervous stomach,” Julie said. “Do you know what Michelle says about you?” “Why are you telling me these mean things?” Eric exclaimed. “Shut up.I don’t care what stupid Michelle McCabe says.She can’t even tie her shoes.” He tried to continue and then, sputtering in frustration, he flung his glove at her. Like most of his throws it sailed well over the target. Julie watched it fly past. As he stomped after the glove she said,“You don’t have to get so pissed off. Michelle didn’t say anything bad.” Eric scooped up the glove and continued across the playground , swatting at the chains on the swing set as he passed. For a moment Julie tried to call him back. As she caught up to him she took his shirt.Eric spun and smacked her across the bare arm with his glove. She stepped back, shocked, her hand going to the welt on her forearm. To Eric’s enormous surprise it looked like she might cry. Then she threw down her glove and with a scream tackled Eric into the sandbox. They wrestled for a full minute. Most of the time Eric stayed dug in and kept his eyes closed against the sand and her wind- Kevin Cunningham 61 whipped hair. A piercing whistle interrupted her attempts to roll him on his back. “Let’s go,” Coach Garland called. Julie slapped Eric in the shoulder as she stood up.“You didn’t have to hit me. Look at the mark on my arm.” Eric could not answer. He was wiping sand from his tongue onto his shirt. Coach...