“Spandex?”
“Yes. Really tight.”
“And you just wear those?”
Another pitch hit the fence.
“I wear shorts over them.”
“Oh,” India said, knowing she sounded disappointed.
“But if you want, I could wear just those foryoubefore the game.”
“The game? The one tomorrow night?”
“Yeah. Are you free?”
“Yes,” India said. “So, you’ll wear thosejustfor me and then put the shorts on over them for the game?”
“Sure.” Maisie nodded and turned back around to wait for the pitch. “So, will you come to my game?”
“Yeah, I will,” India said as Maisie hit another ball.
“What doyouwant to do?”
“At the game?”
“No, in general. We’ve done a bunch of stuff I wanted, and I know you wanted to do a fancy dinner thing. Do you still want to do that?”
India smiled and said, “I’d love to take you someplace nice, yes, but that’s mainly because I… think you deserve a really good meal. I’d say wine, too, but you’d prefer a good beer. I can find that for you, I promise.”
Maisie hit the next pitch and said, “India, I will go with you because you want to go. I’m sure I’ll have a good time.” She hit the next ball. “You’ll be beautiful, sitting across from me in some dimly lit place, and I’ll want to hold your hand on the table.” She hit the next pitch, too. “I’ll eat the food, and it’ll be amazing, but I’m sure I won’t remember it much after.”
“No?” India asked.
“No. But I’ll remember the night I spent withyou, the memories we make, the things we laugh about.” Maisie hit the next pitch and turned around to face her. “That’s what’s important to me. I’ll happily sit across that table from you or go to the opera I know you like, even though I won’t understand the words. They sing in Italian, right?”
India chuckled and replied, “Sometimes, yes. Have you ever been?”
“To the opera? No, not even the lobby.”
India laughed as Maisie walked out of the cage.
“I thought you were going to do a few more.”
“I’m good,” Maisie replied.
She sat down on the cold, metal bench next to India and put her bat into a bag that looked like it was especially madefor it before she took off her helmet and put it inside as well.
India reached out then and touched Maisie’s blonde hair that was pulled back into a ponytail. Maisie turned over to her and smiled softly.
“So, opera?”
“I like ballet, too,” India said. “Ever been?”
“No,” Maisie replied. “But you’ll laugh because, before my mom left a million years ago, she actually put me into a ballet class. I was three, I think. It didn’t last long.”
“Why not? I bet you made a cute little ballerina,” India said, sliding over on the bench to sit closer to Maisie.
