Page 55 of Taking It To Overtime

She steps away, shivers running down her arms.

“I don’t know how.”

She takes another couple feet to realize he’s stopped walking, and she turns around too. He’s standing there, arms spread wide, smile even wider.

“Vera. You live in Kimmelwick, home of the Great Pumpkin Farm, and you don’t know how to play I Got It? This is a family staple.”

She shrugs. Her parents have always been the kind to grab pumpkins and cider donuts and head back home before the crowds take over. Her dad also rarely has free weekends during the fall, not with the football schedule.

“C’mon.” He steps in front of her, walking backward, his hand outstretched for her to take. “Let’s play.”

She shrugs again. What if she sucks at it? What if she misses? What if he thinks she’s ridiculous or pathetic or lame? She hesitates, looking from his open palm to his eyes and back. She can’t explain why this feels big, why taking his hand feels like the start of something new, but maybe it’s all in her head. Maybe she’s reading into every look, every word, every smile because shewantsthere to be a hidden meaning. Shewantshim to want her too.

“Let me win you a prize, Vera. I want to.”

She slides her hand into his and he locks their fingers together. The pressure thrilling and comforting and heavy with promise.

“It’s pretty simple,” He tells her as they settle onto the red plastic stools. “You have to be sitting, you have to wait for them to tell you to toss in a ball, and when you get five in a straight line, you yell—”

“I got it?”

“Yes, you do.” He winks at her and she feels her cheeks heat.

He’s still holding onto her, even as they both pick up the small rubber ball.

“Don’t you need your hand to play?”

He looks down at their interlocked fingers and smiles.

“Right,” he says, “I almost forgot.”

She feels cold when he lets go, a shiver teasing her spine. He looks at her from out of the corner of his eyes, a smile tipping the edge of his lips. Her breath hitches and she misses the attendant telling players to “toss in ball number one.” Everyone around them takes their first turn as she catalogues the curve of her best friend’s cheek and the line of his nose. He broke it again over the summer. She sat with him on the dusty curb, holding his hand as he pressed his t-shirt to his face and the twins sprinted to find the nearest adult with a car. She didn’t let herself cry until he was on his way to the ER, the site of his blood dripping down his chin imprinted on her retinas.

“Aim for the corners first,” Robbie whispers in her ear, freeing her from her memory, and she clumsily hurls her ball across the small gap and over the tiny plexiglass, watching as it bounces into one of the open grooves just left of center. “Nice shot.”

His first ball is dead center and of course he’s a natural at this game. He’s good at literally everything.

“Toss in ball number two,” the attendant says, and she looks around for another ball. Robbie hands her his.

“Try to get it right next to the first.”

She rolls her eyes. Obviously, it needs to go next to the first one if she’s aiming for five in a row. Her ball ends up in the top right corner. Two seats down from them, someone tosses in a handful of balls, laughing as they cover the five by five grid.

“Why can’t we do it like that?” She asks.

Robbie chuckles. “Because that’s cheating, Vera. If we want to win, we do it right.” He hands her a third ball. “You get a prize if you’re the only one to win in a certain round.”

“It’s all luck,” she says even as they toss in their third balls. Robbie’s are in a neat diagonal row. Hers are a scattered mess.

“Don’t be a sore loser, V.” He laughs. “I’ll win you something good.”

“Robbie. It’s basically bingo. Bingo is all luck.” She tucks her hair behind her ears to have something to do with her hands. The way he’s staring at her is making her twitchy, like her cells are vibrating.

“Just admit you’re jealous of my superior skills,” he bumps her shoulder with his. “And for the record, New York State outlawed bingo for profitbecauseit was all luck. This game was created as a suitable replacement.”

They each throw in their fourth ball. His is still perfect. All in a row. She finally gets two next to each other and feels like she’s flying.

“Look!” She points. “I did it.”

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