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I smiled to myself.

Maybe, I thought, just maybe, I might enjoy being in school for once. But that made the possibility of being disappointed and deceived even more terrifying for me. I felt like holding my breath all day and tiptoeing my way from classroom to classroom, fearing that if I moved too quickly, I might shatter the illusion of happiness and bring the world of hope crashing down around me in sharp shards of betrayal.

It wasn't that way. Craig was truly like my bodyguard, fending off any teasing comments his friends threw in my direction.

"Who's the new girl?" was the top ten remark.

"Wouldn't you like to know," was Craig's defense, and then he would scoop his arm through mine and direct me away, talking and laughing as if we had been together for months and months and not just hours.

"How about coming to baseball practice today to watch me show off?" he asked me at lunch. "I'll take you home right afterward."

I had never even gone to a game, much less a practice, where, I knew, the girlfriends of other players hung out to watch. I could easily use the excuse that my grandmother would worry if I didn't step off the school bus or show up after school. Craig wouldn't know she was going to do an afternoon into the evening shift at the hospital and wouldn't be home. My grandfather would be at the office until late in the afternoon. Our dinner would simply have to be heated up, and either I would do it or he would because I was so involved in my work in the attic.

My hesitation in replying concerned hi

m.

"I'll do better if you're there," he said, "and so the team will benefit. You'd be helping your school." "Yeah, right."

"You'll see," he said. "What do you say?"

I'm getting in deeper and deeper, I thought, but isn't that what I really want?

"Maybe," I gave him, and that was enough.

When the bell for the end of the final class of the day rang, I had still not really decided. My heart was racing. I went to my locker and found myself moving exaggeratedly slowly. If I missed the bus, I would have to attend the baseball practice. Maybe it was the coward's way to decide, but that's exactly what I did. I missed the bus.

At the end of the day, the school always cleared out so quickly that it looked like a deserted sinking ship. Doors slammed closed, and except for some students who were in detention or doing some extra help session with their teachers, no one was around. I made my way through the corridor to the doorway that led out to the ballfields. The girlfriends and those interested in becoming girlfriends of players were already getting into the stands to watch the practice. Of those who were there, there was no one with whom I had much contact in school. I barely had spoken to most of them, even though some were in my classes.

The ballplayers came charging out of their locker room entrance with the coach and his two student assistants trailing behind. When Craig saw me walking toward the bleachers, he stopped to wave, and I waved back. It drew the immediate interest of all the girls already seated. They watched me approach, but no one called to me to sit beside her. I sat a good two levels behind and above them all and set my books down. Whether it came from my nervousness or somewhere else I wasn't sure, but I opened my sketch pad and at first pretended I was doing some sort of drawing related to the baseball practice. I knew that all the girls were turned to look at me. They were buzzing away like a mad hive of hornets. Mindy and Peggy were there among them, so I didn't expect I was getting any flattering compliments.

Nevertheless, one of the African American girls, Charlene Lewis, stepped away from the pack and headed in my direction. She was a very tall, pretty girl with very light brown eyes and probably the most attractive figure of any girl in the school. I knew she was going steady with a senior, Bobby Robinson, the baseball team's best pitcher. I overheard enough in the hallways and cafeteria to know he'd been offered a scholarship, like my father, to play baseball at a prestigious Midwestern college.

"Hey," Charlene said as she approached. "Why are you sitting way up here?"

"Better view," I said and continued to sketch some lines.

"That the only reason you came to the practice?" she asked, nodding at my pad and smiling

I looked up at her.

"Maybe."

"Sure," she said, laughing. She slipped onto the bench and looked at my preliminary sketching. It was a random view of the field. I hadn't yet drawn any players. "You know you and Craig were the biggest topic of discussion today?"

"I can't imagine why," I said, and she laughed.

"I like your outfit. Where'd you get those jeans?"

"I think the place was called Bottoms Up, something like that, in Middletown."

"You think? You don't remember the store?"

"We were in and out of so many. It's a blur." She pulled her head back.

"Girl, you sure surprising everyone 'round here."

"I can't imagine why," I said, and she laughed again. I stopped drawing for a moment and looked at her. "You know, if you form stereotyped opinions of someone, you get surprised when they do something different. Whose fault is that? I think you would know something about people forming stereotyped opinions. I think you would understand better than any of them why that's so distasteful and hurtful," I added, nodding at the pack of girls below us.