Free Playing the Field by Janette Rallison

onto her shorts. I suddenly felt silly
about giving them to her, but what else could I have done? Pretend
I was standing in her family room holding them for some other
reason?
    As she took them, she said, “Oh. Lantana. How
nice.”
    I knew she didn’t mean it. She would have
used the exact same tone of voice if I’d brought her a bundle of
weeds. Now she was staring at them like she didn’t quite know what
to do with them.
    Luckily her mother took them from her. “I’ll
go put them in some water,” she said. And then she added, “It was
very sweet of you to bring them.” Mrs. Kimball walked toward the
kitchen with one hand holding the bouquet and the other hand
underneath it to catch any more falling lantana blossoms. Over her
shoulder, she called back to me, “Feel free to sit anywhere.”
    I sat down on a recliner close to the couch.
“I’m sorry I couldn’t find you better flowers. It was sort of a
last-minute thing. I mean, I was just going to give you a card, but
I couldn’t think of what to write.” I hadn’t meant to tell her any
of these things, but to prove my point, I took out the card from my
pocket and gave it to her.
    She opened the card and read out loud, “Dear
Serena.” She giggled a little and then closed the card. “You
couldn’t think of anything to say after that?”
    “Mostly I wanted to tell you I’m sorry, but
it’s a big card and ‘I’m sorry’ doesn’t take up a lot of room.”
    “It’s all right.” She set the card down on
the couch beside her. “It’s not a bad sprain. The doctor said I
just have to stay off it for a while.”
    “You’re going to miss school?”
    “Yeah.” She said this as though she was not
happy about the situation. “Anna is bringing me my homework
assignments.” Her face brightened a bit. “You’re in my math class.
Maybe you could explain the stuff I miss to me.”
    Irony. That’s what my English teacher would
have called it. Here was the girl I wanted to help me in class, and
she was asking me to help her.
    “Uh, I’d like to,” I said. “But I’m not very
good in math. In fact, my mom’s calling around to see about getting
me a tutor.”
    “Really?” Serena seemed surprised. “What
don’t you understand?”
    “All of it. I mean, I never understood how to
do it in the beginning, and now I’m completely lost.”
    Without even seeming to think about it, she
said, “I could help you with it.” She waved her hand in the
direction of a desk. “My books are over there. Bring our algebra
book over.”
    “Now? You want to go over algebra now?”
    She shrugged. “Sure. Why not? I don’t have
much else to do.”
    And that’s how my first tutoring session with
Serena came to be. I would like to say that as soon as she went
over the work, I completely understood how to do it, and she was
stunned by my intelligence. That’s not how it happened, though. We
went back to the beginning of the book and ground through some of
the problems. It wasn’t easy, but I did understand it eventually.
At least I understood the first few pages. Even that made me happy.
It had been so long since I could find x with any accuracy, I’d
begun to worry that the letter would be forever lost to me. Working
with Serena made me feel like there was a glimmer of hope for my
passing math class.
    We were just starting in on chapter three
when the doorbell rang. Moments later Mrs. Kimball ushered Brian
into the room. Serena looked surprised to see him, and he looked
equally surprised to see me sitting beside her. He glanced from her
to me in transparent annoyance.
    Serena ran her hand over her hair again.
“Brian. Hi.”
    He walked closer to the couch. “I heard about
your knee at school and thought you might need someone to help you
with your social studies homework.”
    What he meant was: I’m here to flirt with
you.
    Serena smiled at him. “Thanks. That was
really thoughtful.”
    What she meant was: Why do these boys keep
showing up in my living room