besides sewâshoot a basketball. Matt taught me. The distance from the edge of our grass to our basket is about the same as the distance in Eliâs driveway. I back up, bouncing the ball.
Jorie puts her hands on her hips. âYou canât make it from there. Anyway, Eliâs been showing me how to do a layup.â
Eli tips his chin. âGo ahead, Neen.â
Swish.
He bounces the ball back to me. âShoot till you miss.â
I make four more; then the ball hits the rim.
âOkay, my turn,â Jorie sings.
âI gotta go anyway,â I say.
âYou sure?â Eli grins. âJorie could
definitely
use your help.â
Jorie gives him a little push. âShut up.â
I start walking toward my house. âItâs okay. You guys play. I have to do something for art thatâs due tomorrow.â
âNina!â Eli shouts.
I turn back. Iâm on my grass. Eli chucks me the ball. âTry it.â
âFrom here?â
âNo way,â Jorie says.
I focus on the basket. This would be the shot of a lifetime. I heave the ball with all my strength, like Iâm doing the shot put or something. It misses by several feet.
Jorie grabs the ball. âI knew you werenât
that
good.â
I turn, head toward my front door.
âNice try, though,â Eli calls.
âHey, Eli,â I hear Jorie say. âWhatâs your favorite color?â
I stop.
âI donât know. Blue?â he says.
S unset that night. Iâm sitting on our front step, thinking how much the colors look like Mrs. Chungâs marigolds, which have grown and spread. They look like marigolds on steroids. Must be the magical work of the
kumiho
.
Iâm trying not to think about Jorie and Eli.
The Cantaloni boys are out as usual, playing baseball, but this time, Thomas is with them. âCan you pitch?â Jack asks him. Thomas nods and puts down his sword. Their four outlines are silhouetted against the orange and gold sky.
Jack looks my way. âIf the ball goes into the weeds, will you get it, Nina?â
âSure!â
Matt drives up, parks the Jeep in front of our house. Heâs in his bathing suit, a towel around his shoulders. He gets out and shakes his wet hair.
He spots me. âWhatâre you doing?â
I shrug. âJust sitting.â
He takes off the towel and pretends to snap it at me. âHowâs
The Alchemist
going?â
âNot good.â
âI can give you my old notes. Exceptââhe laughsââI got a C in that class.â
âSure. Why not?â
âOkay, I gotta shower.â He walks past me, opens the door. âHey, you should come to the pool sometime. I could get you in for free.â
Who would I go with? I think about Jorie, Eli, Sariah, and my old group, who are supposed to be back soon. Iâm in between everything.
âMaybe.â
Matt goes inside as Jack hits the ball. It flies into the weeds. âNina!â he shouts. I run over and look but canât find it. âI think this oneâs gone, guys.â
Jack gets another ball from their garage. âYouâre like our camp counselor.â
âYeah!â Thomas grins. âCamp Nina!â
âCan you play the outfield?â Jack asks me.
I smile and back up toward the Millmansâ. âIâll cover left.â
Thirty-six?
We play a while, and when itâs dark, their moms call them inside. Iâm walking home, and I see something stuck to the side of our mailbox. I didnât notice it beforeâa folded piece of plain white paper. Itâs a note, in small, neat printing. It says,
Thank you.âLes Dembrowski
.
So much for being anonymous.
I tuck the note into my pocket, then climb into the hammock and stretch out. Let me just review here. Mrs. Chung was elated with the marigolds, Mr. Millman and Mrs. Cantaloni are buds, Mrs. Bennett uses the foot pads every day, Mr. Millman enjoys cigars,