helped me with my homework, took me to movies. I mean, when it wasn’t baseball season.”
“What happened when it was baseball season?”
“Well, it was basically all the same things, except I tagged along with them to practices. And Si would help me with homework when he wasn’t at bat.”
Alice shakes her head and it’s only now that I’m saying it, now that I’m seeing her reaction that it occurs to me how odd it was. Not that it wasn’t back then. But for the first time, being far away from them, it occurs to me how weird it must have been for them too, having their little sister tagging along to all their games.
“Is that why you don’t like baseball?” she asks after a long moment. “Because your parents were always too busy and you had to follow your brothers around?”
We move away from the cart and I think about my answer before I speak. It would be easy to say yes, the simple answer. Except it’s not true. Because back then, I lived for baseball. The hardest thing about getting my homework done at the games was that I was too busy watching my brothers’ teams play, too busy trash-talking the other team, jumping up and down when it looked like one of the guys on my brothers’ team was going to get on base before the ball landed in the first baseman’s glove, that someone was going to make it home. Half the time I lied about not having homework so I could be the official scorekeeper, filling out the little squares in the notebook with lines that would hopefully form diamonds, Ks on the opposing team’s list for strikeouts.
“I think at a certain point I realized I outgrew my love for it. And the whole thing is exacerbated by my family’s devotion to the game. So, I do my thing and they do theirs.”
It sounds so simple, but in reality it’s so much more heart wrenching.
“So are you going to change the ringtone back?” Alice’s voice jerks me back into the present.
I shake my head, because it’s still my brothers’ anthem. “But do you know how to make it less noisy?”
“Nope. I’m basically stuck in the dark ages.” Alice laughs, the braids that rest on each of her shoulders swinging back and forth. “I’m totally comfortable with any technology that was in use back then.”
“Computer?”
“Well, yes. Though I prefer my pen and notebooks.”
“Cell phone?”
“Yup, but I only use it as a phone.”
She sticks out her tongue when I roll my eyes. “I couldn’t live without my e-reader,” I mumble, and she nods. “Otherwise I’d have filled the van with boxes of books instead of being able to live off a small collection of print books and a large collection on my dependable e-reader.”
But I can imagine the appeal of going low-tech, the possibility of living like there wasn’t a need for constantly being in touch, being constantly reachable. Where there weren’t dinging text messages ruining a conversation.
Which makes me think of Zeke and the phone he tossed, a little too hard, back into his bag.
“Let’s go out tonight,” I say, the idea appealing to me more and more. I clearly need to meet more people, diversify the pool of boys I see beyond Zeke and Drew. It’s Day Two of the summer and it’s time for me to make sure I make something out of it. “I think there’s some sort of mixer scavenger hunt being planned all around campus. I’m supposed to do French conversation with Zeke after dinner, but I can’t imagine we’ll last too long. Maybe let’s meet up and go? I’ll stay with you the whole time, and it shouldn’t be too bad because it’s all over campus, so no cramped rooms.”
Alice looks down, her long braids no longer in motion. Her right hand slides down the messenger bag strap until she’s clutching the buckle hard. “I don’t—”
“Come on, let’s—”
“Abby, no.” Her voice is strong and purposeful, and her eyes are now on me. They aren’t pleading; they’re serious. “It’s really not my thing. I’m barely comfortable with all this collective living. I need my space. I love hanging out with you, but meeting a whole bunch of people is way more than I can handle at this point. I’m still working up to being able to attend the Friday night poetry reading at my prof’s house. I’m worried if I go too fast . . .”
I nod because it makes sense. I