Page 97 of November

“I hated it. I just wanted to run around the room, and I kept tearing off the tutu thing.” Maisie laughed. “My mom gave up after, like, the third lesson. She tried again when I was six, though, hoping I was older and could be tamed.”

“And you couldn’t?” India asked, rubbing the back of Maisie’s neck how she had in the bookshop yesterday.

“Actually, by then, I was already behind all the girls in the class, and I gave up because I felt like I couldn’t keep up with everything. It’s brutal. I don’t know how they do it. I was six and figured out how hard it was. Did you ever dance? Is that why you liked it?”

“I did a lot of things,” she said as Maisie settled against the back of the bench, where India dropped her arm behind her and kept it there. “I danced from the time I was three and until I was seventeen and tore a tendon.”

“You danced that long?”

“I loved it,” India said wistfully. “And I wasn’t amazing. I never would’ve been a prima, but I could’ve ended up in the core somewhere had I kept pushing. The tendon injury healed, but I’d lost a year. I kept at it for another few months after that, but then, I graduated high school and moved away for college, losing my class and teacher here. It made more sense for me to focus on school then anyway. Now, I run, and that’s nice, too.”

“Running isn’t exactly ballet, India.”

“No, but I like it. I can put my headphones in and justhit the road, getting out of my head for a little bit.”

“Do you need to get out of your head?”

India smiled at her and said, “Not right now.”

“No? You’re not worrying about how you look in that shirt or how the bench might have sweat and dirt on it?”

“I’m not, actually. I’m surprisingly just enjoying myself here with you.”

“Is it because you got to check out my ass?”

“That’s one of the reasons, yes,” she said with a smile. “Can’t wait to see you in those siding shorts.”

“Sliding,” Maisie replied, laughing. “They’re made for sliding.”

“Why do you slide?” India asked and moved a strand of hair behind Maisie’s ear.

“So you’re safe.”

“Safe is good, right?”

“In softball, yes. Only when you’re on offense, though.”

“Safe isn’t good in other respects?”

Maisie tilted her head and said, “Not always.” Then, she smiled widely. “Speaking of unsafe… Let’s buy concession stand food and hope for the best.”

“What?” India asked.

Maisie took India’s hand after picking up her bag, and they walked over to the concession stand, where there wasn’t a line. That couldn’t be a good thing. People usually lined up for good food, not for bad or, in this case, possibly unsafe food.

“What do you want?” the guy behind the counter asked, clearly not worried about getting a tip.

“Can we get two hot dogs, one large fry, two root beers, and that candy bar?” Maisie pointed to the rack behind the guy at the brand of candy bar she knew India liked. “And I’m getting vanilla. What kind of ice cream do you want?”

“Oh. What kind do they–” India began.

“Vanilla, chocolate, strawberry, chocolate chip cookie dough, and mint chocolate chip,” the guy interrupted as if he had said this a thousand times already.

“I’ll have the mint chocolate chip, then,” she said.

“That all?” he asked as he started ringing things up.

“That’s all,” Maisie replied and handed him her credit card.