Page 30 of Nerdplay
“But you didn’t play in college?”
“No.”
“Why not?”
“Because I wanted to focus on my studies.” I don’t offer the real reason—that my parents tried to make baseball my entire identity. They hired pitching coaches and talked nonstop about college scholarships. Once that happened, the joy was gone. I played my first year in college out of guilt and then feigned an injury so I could make a graceful exit. To this day, my parents mention my dislocated shoulder on occasion in the same tone people use to discuss a cancer diagnosis.
“Your studies? Ha! Maybe you belong here after all.”
I don’t belong here. I belong in a cushy office with a view of the city. I belong somewhere with air conditioning and no insects.
“Why did you ask about my arm?”
“Come and see.” She links her arm through mine and guides me to a barn across the property.
“I didn’t realize you had animals.”
“Not that kind of barn.” She opens the door and ushers me inside.
I stop short at the entrance. There are enclosures set up for a variety of activities, each one involving a target. Courtney picks up an axe from a nearby bucket. “Stall Five.”
I grab another axe and saunter to the fifth stall. I look at the target and do a double take. “Hey, that’s my picture.”
“Huh. How did that get there?” She hefts an axe and throws it with vigor. The blade lodges sideways across my neck.
“You must get a lot of practice.”
“You’d be surprised what I can do under pressure.”
“Same.” I fling my axe at the target and hit myself directly in the middle of my face. “A little on the nose, but I’ll take it.”
“Hardy har. You’re here for one day and already you’re cracking puns. What’s next, a Chewbacca suit?”
“I draw the line at masks.”
“What do you mean? You wear one every day.”
I hear the shuffling of feet and notice the older woman, Angela, enter the barn. She’s tall and thin with the kind of sinewy arms that suggest regular workouts. Impressive at her age.
“Hi Angela,” Courtney says.
She takes in the sight of us, a gleam forming in her narrow eyes. “Am I interrupting something?”
“Not at all,” Courtney says quickly. “Join us.”
“I brought my own blindfold. I hope you don’t mind.” She dangles a pale pink eye mask.
“Is she drunk?” I whisper.
Courtney ignores me. “Those are for pin the tail on the donkey.”
Angela’s delicately drawn eyebrows pinch together. “Oh no, dear. I’ve sworn off Democrats.”
“You’ve changed parties?”
“Only when they switch to a cash bar, like this one.” She waves an airy hand around the barn.
“We don’t have a cash bar, Angela.”
