The Gathering (24 page)

She turned to look at him. “How in the world could you know that with all those people … ?”

“It just goes to show you, how pretty I think you are.” He smiled.

She was thoughtful. The gym could hold two to three hundred screaming fans. When it was Standing Room Only, three to four hundred. In such a crowd, how could anyone tell there was one missing girl?

And the reason? Because he thinks she is so pretty that she is outstanding in a field of hundreds!

Outrageous! Juvenile! Provocative! Inordinate! Preposterous!

But, somehow, sweet and touching.

Why would she fall for a line like that? Did God really make women that gullible? Even a young lady with both feet solidly on the ground? Even a young lady headed for the convent? Was this one of God’s plans for procreation?

Whatever, it had softened Rose. She felt herself blushing.

Not far away, Alice stood motionless as the cheerleaders continued their practice. She shot Rose a disapproving glance that was close to a glare.

Well, who does Alice think she is!

Little Alice, who was almost groped in a darkened movie house. It was all well and good for Alice to feel warm and wanted and … female. At least she’d experienced the feelings that probably were part of foreplay. Alice could go off to the convent never to feel this warmth again, but at least she had the memory. While Rose would enter the convent totally virginal in every sense and wondering for the rest of her life what it might be like.

When Rose did not respond, Eric shrugged. “Well,” he said, “who cares why you’re never there for a game?”

He wasn’t angry, was he? That set Rose to wondering. Eric was the jock supreme. He must have cared that she didn’t attend the games. After all, it was his starring moment. He was the center of attention. Except that he didn’t have her attention. Maybe there was something to this Viking after all. Maybe he wasn’t all horns.

A basketball went whizzing through the air, a seemingly errant pass headed straight at Rose.

“Watch i—” An aborted warning from the player who’d thrown the pass. That warning was all there was time for. Peripherally, Rose saw the ball headed directly at her. In that split second, she was aware only that she was going to be badly hurt.

A split second later, Eric raised his hand and caught the ball. Not just knocked it away; he caught it. One of his hamlike hands shot up and caught the ball turned projectile. He grinned as he tossed it back onto the court. “Watch where you’re throwing the damn thing! There are pretty girls here.”

Rose blushed again.

She would have to rethink her opinion of jocks. Suppose she’d been sitting here with her brother … or with Bob Koesler. She would have been knocked senseless before either of them could have raised a hand to deflect, let alone actually catch the ball.

She had to leave Manny Tocco out of this scenario; Manny was undoubtedly able to perform athletically almost as well as Eric the Vike.

The boys on the court laughed. They had reason. This was number 12-B in Eric’s playbook to set up girls for dates. And all it took was the collaboration of one of his teammates.

However, the feat of catching a screaming pass one-handed was all Eric’s. He grinned at her. “I guess you owe me your life.”

Rose bristled. “I doubt it would’ve killed me. But thanks anyway.”

“‘Thanks’! That’s it?”

“Well, what?”

“Tell you ‘what.’ We play St. Theresa Saturday afternoon. Come to the game. Wait for me afterward and we’ll take in a movie. Then, maybe a burger and a shake. How ’bout it?”

It sounded innocent enough … perhaps too innocent. But she did not in any way intend anything more than an innocent acquiescence. “Sounds good.”

“Terrific! The game, a show, and a snack.”

“Okay.”

Eric returned to the court and immediately sank four sensationally tricky shots. He was showing off for Rose and everybody knew it. The cheerleaders, impressed by the athleticism of Eric the Vike, looked at Rose with envy.

But not Alice. And she would have her say before the day was over.

   
EIGHTEEN
   

T
HEY MET AT ALICE’S HOUSE.
Rose arrived first; Alice had stayed behind to shower after her stint as cheerleading instructor.

By almost every breath they took, the McManns revealed that they lived in the shadow of the Smiths. The McMann house was a tad smaller, more “lived in” and older. The appliances that were new, or close to it, in the Smith home were on their last legs at the McManns’.

And of course Nat McMann worked for Henry Smith.

Alice arrived about half an hour after Rose. She went directly to her bedroom, where Rose sat with her nose buried in
Moby Dick
.

“Sorry I don’t have a suitable brush,” Alice said.

“What? Oh, it doesn’t matter; I’ll brush at home.”

Alice did have a hairbrush, but it was a bit uneven. Her verbal swipe rolled unnoticed off Rose’s back.

The point Alice strove to make was that she was poor—or thought herself such. And Rose was rich—or relatively so. “So did you enjoy yourself at the gym today?” Alice asked.

“About the same as always, I guess. Why?”

“Oh, nothing. It’s just that you seemed to really be having a good time—at least that’s what it looked like.”

“Is there something I’m missing here? What are you getting at?”

“I’m talking about the Vike—”

“What about him?”

“You didn’t exactly move away when he came over and sat next to you.”

“Al!”

“You didn’t move an inch all the time he was with you.”

“Al, you make it sound as if I was seducing him.”

“That’s not the point.”

“Then what
is
the point?”

“You were letting him seduce
you.”

“Oh, Al, that’s ridiculous. For one thing, I did move away—right after he first sat down. And anyway”—she tossed her head—“all I was doing was talking to him. Just talking, that’s all.”

Alice plunked herself down on the bed. Her countenance was knowing. “Did he have something to say about how you never go to a game?”

Rose felt butterflies. Had she been taken in? She didn’t want to believe that. “He said,” she protested, “that he knew I never went to a game. But he certainly didn’t seem terribly put out about it.”

“And then you asked him how he knew that. And he said you were so beautiful that he would have picked you out of the crowd … even if there were hundreds in the stands.”

“Some … something like that.”

“And you believed him?”

“Why shouldn’t I?”

Alice shook her head. “I never thought you’d fall for that kind of line.”

Rose, the butterflies turning into worms, grew belligerent. “Okay, smart guy, if it was empty flattery, how come he knew that I never attended a game?”

“It’s part of his routine. Two of the cheerleaders are in his harem. They’re always talking about Eric. ‘Eric this,’ ‘Eric that’—his pickup lines, his swagger, what a neat dancer he is, how they melt when he grins … blah, blah, blah.”

Rose looked dubious, but inside the worms were turning to blocks of ice.

“Think, Rose: Has anybody—either a boy or a girl—asked you recently if you ever attend basketball games?”

She thought back. And the ice turned to an icicle. She didn’t know why she remembered it, but it was suddenly quite clear in her mind. One of the cheerleaders had asked her that exact question. And Rose had replied that no, she never went to the games.

Wordlessly, she nodded. Then: “Why didn’t you tell me?” It was almost a moan.

“How did I know you’d been questioned? And that bit about saving you from the ball? That’s part of the routine too. It all fits. And don’t tell me; let me guess: He’s invited you to go out after the next game, hasn’t he?”

Rose, now zombielike, nodded. “This Saturday,” she said in a small voice. “The game. A movie. And a snack afterward.”

“Watch the snack. That’s when it happens.”

“What?”

“The seduction. He’ll probably take you to a little restaurant on Clark. It’s a dark, backstreet place. There’s a booth in the rear that, for all practical purposes, is his …”

“I’m an idiot.”

“Don’t be too hard on yourself. You are definitely not the first … just the most beautiful and intelligent.”

The two fell silent. Now that Eric’s little game had been revealed, Rose was thoroughly embarrassed and ashamed.

How
could
he have known she didn’t attend the games? It was one thing to spot someone in the stands, quite another to know that in all those packed hundreds one person was not there.

And Eric’s reaction to the seemingly wayward pass? Well, when you thought about it, it
was
somewhat incredible. Given the fact he could catch one like that, he’d almost have to know it was coming.

She had been a fool.

“How ’bout it, Rose? Want me to call it off for you?”

Rose pondered. Then: “No. Let me think about it for a while.”

“You’re not going to—”

“Let me think about it,” Rose repeated firmly.

“Okay. You should be able to take care of yourself. You’re nearly out of high school and almost into the convent. And I know you: If you say you’ll think it over, that’s what you’ll do. So, we won’t discuss it any more. You’re a big girl now; you can take care of yourself.”

Saturday afternoon. The gym was like church on Christmas or Easter: packed to the doors. Not even any standing room available.

Rose smiled as she stood, back to the wall, shifting from one foot to the other. Sure, in a crowd like this Eric easily could have been aware of the absence of one girl. Yeah, and if you want to buy the Ambassador Bridge, I’ll give you change.

St. Theresa’s team was out on the floor warming up. Then came the purple-and-gold-clad Redeemer Lions, led by Eric the Vike, dribbling the ball and leaving the ground gracefully for an effortless dunk shot. The crowd went wild. The outcry deafened Rose. She pressed her hands over her ears.

The din continued unabated, as Redeemer proceeded to first avalanche, then bury its archenemy.

Actually, the contest was between the entire St. Theresa’s team and Eric the Vike. In the middle of the fourth quarter, Eric was benched. By that time the game was on ice. Redeemer’s coach would save his superstar for future contests. Why take the chance that Eric could be injured and out for the season?

As the Vike left the court, the fans leaped to their feet in raucous ovation.

Eric sat on the bench, a towel draped over his head and shoulders. He seemed to be looking for someone in the stands. But he gave no indication that he had located the object of his search.

Sure, sure, thought Rose. He could tell that I either was or was not at those games. Ha!

The crowd filed out of the stands. The Redeemerites were ecstatic.

Rose took one of the now empty seats. She wondered why she hadn’t delegated Alice to break the date. Oddly enough, Rose was keeping this date in reaction to Alice’s last remark on the subject: Rose was a big girl who could take care of herself.

In time—in his good old time—Eric appeared. A mixed group of adults, high school and grade school kids ringed around, asking for his autograph. He was the soul of graciousness, signing each and every surface presented, including one young woman’s arm. She vowed she would never again wash that arm. “I’ll count on that,” the Vike cooed.