Page 10 of The Singing Trees
Annalisa worked her way down the stands, past the cheerleaders, and around the end zone toward the concession stands on the home-team side. She noticed a younger girl sitting alone on one of the picnic tables lined up under a cluster of trees near the corner of the field. Her elbows were propped on her thighs, her hands clasped together, and she seemed to be staring at the ground, ignoring the game.
Annalisa had spent many hours since moving to the Mills with that same sad posture and lonely stare. She looked at the concession stands ahead, long lines of teenagers laughing as they waited to get their red snapper hot dogs and sodas. Surprising even herself, Annalisa cut toward the girl.
“Hey, are you okay over there?” she asked from ten feet away.
The girl looked up like a tortoise poking its head out of the shell, so timid she might retreat at any moment. Her brown hair looked ironed and was parted in the center. She wore a brand-new Bean jacket,revealing that she most definitely lived in Davenport and not Payton Mills.
“Yeah, I’m fine,” she said, her breath turning to fog. She looked back down, as if a weight were tied to her chin. She was extremely skinny, too, as Annalisa had been right after the funeral, when she’d stopped eating. It was obvious the girl didn’t want to talk, but seeing her younger self in her made Annalisa not quite want to give up.
Hearing the crowd cheering behind her, she took a step closer. “I like your jacket.”
The girl’s eyes flitted up. “Thanks.”
Annalisa wasn’t sure what to do. She didn’t want to pester her but didn’t want to leave her alone, either, thinking the girl might need someone to listen. Guessing she was probably thirteen or fourteen, Annalisa remembered how hard life had been for her back then.
“Listen,” she said, “I’m sorry to bother you, but you don’t seem fine. Unless there’s a riveting movie showing on the ground there that only you can see. What’s your name?”
She attempted to smile at Annalisa’s joke. “Emma.”
Another step forward, approaching like a hostage negotiator. “Is everything okay, Emma?”
The girl finally raised her head and kept it up. She put her hands where her elbows had been. “Everything’s just great,” she said sarcastically. “I’m so happy to be here.”
“What? You don’t like football?” Annalisa asked. Another step.
Emma looked left. “I hate football.”
Annalisa seized the opportunity to take a seat next to her up on the table. “You’re not the only one. Seriously, look at them.” As they both looked at the field, where the teams lined up near midfield, she said, “They’re a bunch of sweaty grunts running into each other. And then the fans. They’re even worse. You might be an Eagle, so I don’t know if it’s the same, but the Spartan fans, they live and die by this sport. As if anyone on that field is doing anything that actually mattered.”
A series of grunts on the field was followed by clashing helmets and more cheers.
The girl let out a small smile, which served to spur Annalisa on. “Seriously, what are they doing that matters? Oh, far out. They just threw a ball in the air, and another guy caught it. Then he ran over a line. Oh God, let’s give him the Medal of Honor.”
The girl laughed, and Annalisa decided she would tell Father Laduca during confession Sunday that she’d made a sad person laugh. He might give her absolution for being nasty to Nonna.
“You’re funny,” the girl said, glancing over.
“Well, thanks, but football’s an easy target.” Annalisa put out her gloved hand. “I’m Annalisa.” After shaking, Annalisa asked, “So why are you even here then? If you don’t like it.”
A shrug as Emma found a spot to look at on the ground again. “Because being here is better than being at home.”
Annalisa hurt for her but wasn’t sure how much she should pry. “Can I...help?”
Emma shook her head. “My brother’s here, but thanks.”
Annalisa looked toward the concession stands, smelling hot dogs and popcorn. “Where is he?”
Emma crossed her arms and shivered. “He’s up in the stands with all his friends. He’s always nice to invite me, but I just didn’t feel like being with them anymore. They’re all older.”
“And they’re all football fans,” Annalisa added, “which doesn’t give them much hope for being great conversationalists.”
Emma let out another smile, and Annalisa thought she could get used to this, dragging girls out of their misery. She wished someone had done that for her. Orwoulddo that for her now.
“So what are you into?” Annalisa asked, deciding she’d much rather talk to this girl than return to the stands. “You don’t like football. What is it youdolike? I’m an artist. That’s all I do and what Ishouldbe doing right now.”
Emma leaned back on her hands. “I guess I’m into music.”
“Oh yeah, like who?” At that moment, something like a leaf dropped on Annalisa’s head. She tried to find it and wipe it away but gave up after a few seconds.
