I blink. What does baseball have to do with this?
“Management got caught up in worrying about the fragile egos of the players instead of respecting the ecosystem that a winning team needs to thrive. I’m not going to do a disservice to my students by handing out participation trophies. Instead,I’m hoping to push them to become the best versions of themselves.”
He’s spit balling nonsense to distract from the actual problem here, which ishisego in this most pointless of school specials. As far as I’m concerned, P.E. goes last on my totem pole of classes that will have a lasting impact.
“Alright. I’m done.” I put my hands on my hips. “I tried to come in here and be reasonable but you’re making it impossible.”
Turning on my heels, I prepare to march into Principal Bennett’s office and tattle if need be, to make things right for Emma and all the other students who aren’t varsity athletes, when Jen opens the door to the gym.
“There you are! Oh, and both of you! This is too perfect.” Jen flips her hair behind her shoulder and smiles brightly. “I never heard from either one of you about the Harvest Carnival, so you two get the last spots I couldn’t fill. Have fun at the dunk tank.”
5
MAXFORD
“Maxford, a pirate, really?” Stella scrunches her nose and lifts her chin. “So unoriginal. And that insufferable Hollywood one, too, no less.”
Opal, my grandmother’s best friend for fifty years and fellow care center resident, gives me a wink and sassy smile before saying, “I think you look handsome.”
“Thank you,” I say, stroking my glued-on beard braids.
“I don’t know why you wore it here, though. You’re drawing attention to our table.” Stella sighs dramatically, glancing around the nearly empty room.
I stifle a sneeze when the faux mustache tickles me. “Yes, and you hate to have all the attention on you, I know.” Opal and I share a knowing look. “Stella, you knew I wouldn’t have time to change between dinner and the carnival, so this is what you get. It’s almost Halloween—this kind of look is allowed in public.”
Our little trio sits in the dining room at the assisted living center for a very early dinner. Stella prefers to take the meal atfive o’clock on the dot, and I have respected that time slot every Monday and Wednesday for the past year; however, tonight is the Harvest Carnival, and I’m expected to be at the school by five.
When I’d called to explain we’d need to eat at four this one time, she said she’d allow it as long as I came on Saturday to play Bingo with her crew, and there was no way I could tell her no. Partially because she’s done so much for me over the course of my life and it’s part of my duties while I’m the grandchild to help care for her, but also because I secretly enjoy the assortment of characters she refers to as her ‘crew.’
She sits tall in her upholstered chair, clad in her self-designated uniform consisting of a bright floral muumuu and simple Birkenstocks. Her short hair is set thanks to her biweekly beauty appointment in the salon downstairs. For dinner tonight, she’s added her favorite Tiffany’s & Co. earring and bracelet set that Grandpa bought her for their fortieth wedding anniversary. It’s gaudy and when she wears it, I’ve noticed she carries an air of extra importance.Thisis the grandmother I’ve always known: bold, opinionated, timeless, and powerful.
Stella’s gaze settles on me, taking in the decent replica of Jack Sparrow’s getup fromPirates of the Caribbean. It cost way too much money, but it was the only pirate costume guaranteed to arrive overnight. The dunk tank I’m working at is themed “Walk the Plank,” so I’m hoping this fits Jen’s vision. Being on her good side seems like the right choice.
Eventually, Stella stabs her fork through her Caesar salad topped with salmon and asks, “Why not wear your uniform? You always looked handsome in that.”
Opal’s eyes light up across the table and she claps herhands together. “Oh yes! Oh, Maxford, you need to wear that tonight instead. You were my favorite ballplayer, you know.”
“Sorry, ladies, I hate to break it to you but when you are traded or cut from a team, you don’t get to take anything with you,” I explain. “But I appreciate that, Opal. You were my favorite fan.”
She smiles smugly while Stella clears her throat.
I reach out and cover my grandmother’s hand with mine. “Stella, you have always been my number one fan and I appreciate that more than you’ll ever know. I’m your number one fan right back.”
She nods her head in haughty triumph, and I mean what I say. I’m grateful tonight’s a good night; she’s lucid and happy. Her request for my sisters and me to refer to her by her first name is unconventional, but we’ve done it our whole lives and it brings me a sense of peace now that things are changing for her. I appreciate the arrogant, sassy nights like tonight and find myself getting a little choked up when thinking about what’s coming down the line. I take a drink of my lemon water and pretend to focus on a text to cover up the lump forming in my throat.
“Maxford, you know the rules. No phones at the table.” Then, turning her attention to her friend, she says, “Opal, is this really the best way for your daughter to run her school? She has my grandson dressing as a pirate and is allowing children the chance to possibly drown him? Lisa should be ashamed. Education is not what it used to be. In our day, we just cut the school a check.”
I look up from my phone and raise a brow. Stella’s spoken highly of Opal’s daughter for as long as I can remember. She was so grateful Opal was willing to vouch for me when the P.E. position opened at the school. If she’s going to be judgyabout anything, it should be the way Nola treated me yesterday. When I spoke to her on the phone earlier and told her about that run-in with Emma’s mom, she laughed merrily and changed the subject.
Opal sets down her club sandwich and straightens her shoulders. “Times have changed, Stella. Lisa is running a perfectly fine school and you know it. The carnival is a chance to let loose and help raise money for . . . what’d she say the money is going to, Max dear?”
“Playground equipment,” I say around a bite of sandwich. “The school bought the empty field next door a year ago. That gave us a dirt track and some grass but the younger kids need to get energy out at recess with slides and swings.” They are crazed feral cats and those twenty-five minutes in the middle of the day are the longest of my life.
Stella harrumphs like this is the last thing anybody should spend money on when Opal touches my arm and says, “Rumor has it the mom you’re working with tonight is very cute and very single.”
Nearly choking on my water, I manage to sputter out, “I’m sorry, what?”
“Lisa visited last night and told me all about the carnival, and she said you’d be working alongside a woman at the dunk tank. I asked if the woman was married and she said no. Then I asked if she was pretty. Lisa thought about it a second and said I didn’t need to stick my nose where it doesn’t belong.” She leans in toward Stella and says out of the side of her mouth, “That’s code for yes. So is she, Max?”
