"What is he, your puppet?" I shot at him.
Harrison laughed. "She's all right, Lisa. Better than those other snot noses you call your friends," he said. He leaned over the table toward me. "Maybe invite you to my house for a little one-on-one."
"What?"
"Tennis." He sat back, smiling "Or did you want to do something else?"
"I don't want to do anything with you," I said. "What's the matter, worried about your virginity?" he quipped. Brody started to laugh.
"No," I said. "My reputation."
Brody paused and then laughed harder.
"Shut up," Harrison snapped at him.
Harrison turned and glared at me. "I don't ask every girl to my house," he said.
"That surprises me," I replied.
Brody had to bite down on his lip to stop another laugh. Harrison caught it out of the corner of his eyes.
"Want to go listen to some music?" Lisa asked, growing nervous. "Harrison?"
He turned to her, a look of annoyance on his face. "What for?" he asked. "I'm not interested in wasting any more of my time." He stood up. "Maybe come watch you play your next ball game," he said to me.
"Fine."
"Don't strike out," he said with a self-satisfied smile, "or I'll have my puppet here laugh:'
"I can't think of a better reason not to," I said, and looked at Brody, who wiped his mouth, thanked Lisa for the lunch, and ran off to catch up with Harrison.
We watched them in silence, and then Lisa turned to me.
"Wow," she said. "No one's ever put Harrison down like that. Most of my other girlfriends swoon over him." She tilted her head and looked at me curiously.
"What?" I asked.
"You're different," she said.
"What do you mean?" I asked, my heart knocking like a tiny hammer in my chest.
"I don't know. You're full of surprises, like when you hit that home run. But," she said, jumping up, "that's what I like about you. Come on. Let's go listen to music and talk."
I followed her into the house, feeling deceitful, feeling as if I really didn't belong, but I wasn't upset so much about lying to my new friends as I was about lying to myself.
The truth was, the only time I felt honest was when I was playing softball or some sport. The real me couldn't be hidden.
Harrison would be disappointed. I wouldn't even come close to striking out.
8 Bases Loaded
We lost our next game, but not because I struck out or the other team got so many hits off me. Our team made too many errors, the big one being Cora Munsen's dropping of a fly ball with two on base. The way she looked at me afterward gave me the feeling she had done it on purpose just so I wouldn't look good. Coach Grossbard might have thought so, too. Afterward, in the locker room, she kept asking Corn why she dropped it.
"The sun wasn't in your eyes. You were in good position. What happened, Cora?"
"I don't know," Cora said, eyes down.
"Well, I don't understand. Anyone could have caught that ball," the coach insisted.