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Twyla glanced up at Forrest, expecting him to yell at the boys, but he merely grinned and gestured to the other side of the room. Galen Reynolds would certainly have put a stop to those boys. Children were never allowed to touch anything in his presence.
At his side, Twyla walked with Forrest toward where the top half of a wall had been removed. A waist-high barricade had been left, and on the other side of it, what had once been the ballroom now held five long and shiny alleys that stretched clear to the other side. Several groups were gathered at each alley, rolling balls toward the pins. Two young boys ran back and forth, setting up or pulling pins out of the way before they rolled balls back down long open chutes that framed the alleyways.
Forrest led her through an opening in the waist-high wall and pointed out the back of the wall that held rows of bowling balls.
“Why do you need so many?” she asked.
“Because they weigh different amounts,” he answered. “Women and children like lighter balls than men.” After rolling over a few balls, he pointed at one. “Try that one.”
She picked up the ball, taken aback by the weight. “I’m supposed to throw this at the pins?”
“No,” he said, with a grin that showed his dimple. “You roll it.” Picking up another ball, he gestured toward the one she held. “Put your fingers in the holes like this.”
Copying his actions, she cringed. “Oh, yeah, that’s real comfortable.”
He shook his head, but chuckled. “Come on.”
Twyla, carrying her ball with both hands, followed.
“That over there,” he said, gesturing past all the lanes, “is the billiards room. There are three pool tables.”
She nodded, seeing people through the arched opening holding cue sticks. Forrest led her to the last lane before he stopped. Twyla was a bit surprised when a black-haired man helping a young boy maneuver a ball out of the side chute turned out to be Scooter Wilson.
“Hey, Twyla,” Scooter said, after the boy had rolled the ball down the lane and knocked over several pins.
“Hello, Scooter,” she replied. “You come bowling?”
“Sure do. Brought my nephew, Jonas, over today. It’s his birthday.”
“Happy birthday, Jonas,” she said to the boy, who had hair as black as his uncle’s.
“Thanks,” the boy said. “Tomorrow is my real birthday, but Uncle Scooter brought me today ’cause his fueling station will be open tomorrow and he’ll have to work.”
Twyla grinned at Jonas’s explanation while Forrest stepped forward and ruffled the boy’s hair.
“Happy birthday a day early,” Forrest said. “Are you winning or is your uncle?”
“I got two strikes,” Jonas said proudly. “He hasn’t gotten any.”
“So you’re winning, then,” Forrest said, laughing.
“What are strikes?” Twyla asked.
“When you knock down all ten pins in one shot,” Jonas answered before sending his ball rolling.
Twyla lifted her gaze to the end of the alley, where the young boys were tossing pins over a short wall and rolling balls into the side chutes. Then the boys jumped over the wall, waved and disappeared. “Why’d they do that?” she asked Forrest.
“First they get the pins out of the way, then they throw the balls back and hide so they don’t get hit,” he answered.
She watched a few other bowlers send their balls down the alleyway. The speed astounded her, and the clatter when the ball hit the pins made her glad those boys had a wall to protect them. “Oh, goodness.”
“I’m going to be a pin boy for Forrest when I get old enough,” Jonas said.
“Oh?” Twyla asked. “Does your mother know that?”
“Yes,” Jonas answered. “But just like Forrest, she said I have to wait until I turn fourteen.”
Forrest nodded as the boy looked his way questioningly.
“The boys have to be old enough to keep focused,” Jonas told her seriously.
“Your ball’s back,” Forrest said, gesturing toward the ball rolling down the chute.
Scooter and Jonas went over to pick up the ball and Twyla asked, “Don’t the balls just fall in those little chutes along the side?”
“Yes, then it’s called a gutter ball. Those little chutes on each side of the lane are called gutters. Bowlers need to keep their ball out of the gutters and hit the pins. When all ten pins are knocked down in one shot it’s called a strike, as Jonas said, and if it takes two balls, it’s called a spare.”
“How many times can you throw the ball?” she asked, watching as Jonas once again sent the ball spinning down the lane.
