Note: This story was dynamically reformatted for online reading convenience.
 
 ï>¿The Trailer Park: The Fifth Year: Part 2: Music and Lyrics A Story in
the Wynter/Trailer Park Universe by Wizard CopyrightÂ(C) 2008 by Wizard

   Chapter 31

   The ball took one hop and seemed to home in on my glove.  I'd been
playing up close, right on the edge of the grass.  I pulled the ball out of
my glove and tossed it backward.  As I turned, I saw Robbie take the toss
from just behind second base.  She stepped forward onto the bag and made a
hard throw to first as the runner slid into the base.  Ricky, his foot on
first, leaned forward.  The ball slapped into his glove a good second
before the batter got there.

   I grinned at Robbie.  Two pitches and two outs, this was the way to
start a season.  The first batter had bunted the first pitch and just
barely beaten the throw to first.  The second batter swung at the first
pitch too, one-hopping it into a double play.  Now let's see what number
three can do.

   A few seconds later it was all over.  The third batter popped up his
first pitch and Ricky caught it easily.  A three pitch inning, you can't
beat that.

   Four innings later, it hadn't gotten much better for the Bulldogs.  They
hadn't gotten past first base, and we'd scored at least three every inning.
After the third out, another pop-up, the ten-run mercy rule ended it.

   We were in Idaho for a tournament.  Everyone said we had the toughest
bracket, but the first game had been a walk in the park.  Ours was the
third game of the day, so counting the Bulldogs, three teams were already
in the loser's bracket of the double elimination tournament.

   It was a great way to start spring vacation.  We'd left school about one
for the two-and-a-half hour drive to Coeur d'Alene.  If we could have left
a little earlier and skipped the taco pizza lunch, the day would be
perfect.

   Our second game was going to be with the Warriors, but we wouldn't know
for a couple hours whether it was the Warriors from Southern Washington or
the Warriors from Oregon.

   "You going to scout the competition?" I asked Robbie as we walked across
the infield.  The two Warriors teams had been warming up on another field
and would start their game as soon as we got off and they had a short
infield practice.

   "Aren't you?"

   I pointed to the gate next to our dugout.  Robbie saw Tami and waved. 
"So much for the dedicated athlete."

   I shrugged.  "Think you'll miss anything if I'm not there to keep you
straight?"

   Robbie made a rude noise and walked over to Ricky and his dad.

   I went in the dugout, slapped a few backs, and stuffed my glove and bat
into my equipment bag.  Outside, I caught the coach's eye and pointed to
Tami.  He nodded, then went back to his conversation with Robbie and Ricky.

   I let myself through the gate and hugged Tami.  "I didn't know you were
coming."

   "I wasn't sure I was," Tami said after a long kiss.  "Had to talk Mom
into it.  I told her that with you gone for the weekend, it's be a good
chance to check out some colleges."

   "And she bought that?"

   "Officially, I'm checking out the University of Idaho and Lewis and
Clark State College."

   "Did your mom happen to remember where our tournament was?"

   Tami grinned.  "Probably."

   I kissed her again, then we moved off to the side to let other
ballplayers use the gate.

   "What time do you play tomorrow?" Tami asked as I hoisted my bag and we
started toward the parking lot.  Tami had been to so many of these, she
could probably have drawn the double elimination tournament bracket for
them.

   "Since we won, tomorrow at one.  If we lose, we play again at five,
otherwise Sunday."

   "So I can check out colleges in the morning and be good with Mom."

   I nodded.  "You should also check out Headmaster's School of Hair Design
just in case.  We saw it when we drove in."

   Tami stuck out her tongue, and I pulled her into another kiss, her
tongue sliding easily into my open mouth.

   Tami led me to her motel, which was just up the road from the field. 
Ours was across the street.  In the parking lot I kissed her again.  As we
broke apart again, a suspicion flashed across my mind.

   "How did you get here?'

   Tami smiled coyly.  "There was this cute Little Mustang just sitting
there." Tami tried to look sneaky as she looked over each shoulder.  "And I
knew where the guy kept the keys."

   "You can be replaced you know," I said as Tami unlocked her door and
opened it.

   She grinned.  "With who?  Robbie just started going out with Troy
Benning."

   "How about with her," I said, pointing at the girl on one of the double
beds.

   Bobbi blushed.

   Tami shrugged.  "You didn't expect me to drive all the way here by
myself, did you?"

   It wasn't the first time my beloved had set me up, so why was I
surprised.  "Let's take a walk."

   Tami looked startled.  "We can't just leave her..." Despite the fact
that Tami had left her while she went to the field to collect me.

   "Not you, her." I held my hand out to Bobbi.

   Bobbi looked like she'd rather be anywhere else, but after a few seconds
hesitation stood and took my hand.

   "Robbie should be at the field till at least nine.  Watching the
Warriors and the Warriors go at it.  You might as well keep her company."

   "I'm sorry," Bobbi said as we walked through the little park behind the
motel.  There were three paths, and I took the one that led toward a stand
of trees.

   "Why?"

   "I, uh..." Bobbi stammered.

   "Relax, I know it wasn't your idea to ambush me."

   Bobbi blushed.

   "Tami thinks she knows how to run my life better than I do.  She
probably does, and someday she probably will.  But right now, I want to at
least pretend to be independent and make my own decisions."

   Bobbi giggled.  "I understand, I guess.  Are you mad at Tami?"

   "No.  You know, I don't think I've ever gotten mad at Tami.  I was
really disappointed once.  And right now, I'm mildly annoyed.  But I've
never been mad."

   Bobbi nodded.  "So when she comes back, do you want me to pretend...  ?"

   We'd been following the dirt path through the mini-forest and came to a
clearing.  I stopped and turned Bobbi till she was facing me, then gently
kissed her.  When she didn't resist, I kissed her longer and harder.  "When
Tami asks," there was no if about it, "tell her that a lady never tells."

   Bobbi nodded.  I took her hand and led her back down the path to her
motel.  I was glad that the team was in the motel across the road so I
didn't have to try explaining the pretty freshman.  We let ourselves into
Tami's and her room, and Bobbi flopped onto the closest bed on her back and
looked up at me expectantly.

   How do I get myself into situations that almost any guy would kill for,
but that I dreaded?

   "First rule," I said looking down at the beautiful teenager.  "Just
because you thought you were ready, doesn't mean you are.  You can change
your mind."

   "But I am."

   "Repeating first rule, just because you think you're ready, doesn't mean
you are.  You can change your mind."

   Bobbi nodded, but I doubt I penetrated.

   "Second rule.  There is no right way or wrong way to have sex.  What I
like, what's-his-name may not and vice versa." I hesitated, considering
whether to mention fetishes, S&M, water sports, or other--in my humble
opinion--unfun stuff.

   "Third rule, and it's important, so repeat after me.  Sex is supposed to
be good for both partners."

   Bobbi had a funny look on her face.  "Sex is supposed to be good for
both partners," she repeated.  "I thought you were supposed to be seducing
me.  This is like school."

   I grinned.  "I'm not what's his name, your boyfriend, so I'm not
seducing you.  This is a kind of a sex school.  Want a different teacher?"

   "Never."

   "Okay.  Then listen and learn.  Rule three is important because there
are girls out there who don't, who've never gotten off during sex.  Some
guys think it's all about them and quit after they've gotten their jollies.
I don't know if what's-his-name..."

   "Josh.  His name is Josh."

   I grinned 'cause I'd known his name.  " ...  if Josh is one of those,
but I want you to know that you're entitled to have fun too."

   "I think he's a virgin."

   "So this is your chance to train him right.  Future girlfriends will
thank you."

   "Any more rules?" she asked after a few seconds.

   "No."

   Bobbi grinned and reached for the snap on her cut-offs.

   I smiled.  "Slow down, girl.  The rules are over, but now we get to the
good stuff.  Question-and-answer period, where I see just how red your face
can get.  First, have you ever given Josh or anyone else a handjob?  Or a
blowjob?"

   "How could you ask that?"

   "Because I'm trying to figure out how advanced you are.  Well?"

   "I've given Josh some handjobs.  And there was a boy last year."

   "How about blowjobs?"

   Bobbi's red darkened.  "Josh has hinted, but I ...  It just seems kind
of yucky.  Marcy says it's no big deal--she's been doing it since fifth
grade--but..."

   "Remember rule two?"

   Bobbi's brow furrowed as she thought, then nodded.

   "This is a great example.  Some girls love giving blowjobs, some hate
it. Some do it just to make the guys happy.  You have to find what's right
for you and Josh.  And it won't always make sense.  A lot of guys who love
getting BJs think going down on a girl is major gross."

   "Do you?"

   "Think it's gross or go down on girls?" I asked with a smile.  "Yes, I
like going down on Tami and other girls.  'Cause I like the girls to get a
lot out of it, and that's a great way to do it."

   Bobbi smiled.  From the look on her face, I think she was imagining a
tongue in her goodie box.  My tongue.

   "Do you play with yourself?"

   "Tony!" I think her face hit a ten point oh on the redness scale.

   "I know that's embarrassing, but if you have, it will make things
easier.

   Bobbi nodded almost imperceptibly, maybe a millimeter and a half.

   "Good, though I imagine with all those sisters hanging around it's not
the easiest thing to do."

   "You got that right."

   "Speaking of sisters, you look a lot like Betty."

   "I'm the big sister.  She looks like me!"

   "Speaking of your big little sister, when's she going to want to lose
her virginity?"

   Bobbi sighed.  "About half-an-hour after she finds out I've lost mine."

   I was suddenly very happy that I had a sister and not a brother.

   "You ready for this?" I asked after several seconds.

   Bobbi grinned.  "I've been ready.  You're the one who's been stalling."

   I really wish girls would stop reading my mind.  Though in retrospect I
guess in was obvious.

   "Sure you don't want to wait for Josh?"

   "I'm going to tell Tami you're stalling," she threatened.

   I stepped up to the bed, reached down, and gently caressed her shoulder.
I smiled and stroked her hair.  Then flipped her over and brought my hand
down hard on her denim covered ass.

   "Hey!  That wasn't nice."

   "THAT was for threatening me with Tami.  Besides, some girls get turned
on by spanking.  So it's all part of your lesson."

   Bobbi, still on her stomach, reached back and rubbed her right cheek.

   "Want me to kiss it and make it better?"

   "Oh, yeah," she moaned.

   I knelt on one knee on the bed, leaned down and kissed her right cheek,
then her left, and finally the middle.

   "This isn't going to work," I said and reached beneath her and
unfastened and unzipped her cut-offs.  I slipped them slowly down her legs.
I repeated my kisses on her barely panty-covered ass.

   I grabbed the waistband of her panties, pausing for any objection, then
slipped them down and dropped them on the floor next to her cut-offs.

   Her ass was cute, but about as white as a ghost, especially compared to
the dark tan that covered the rest of her body.  I leaned down again and
kissed her right cheek.  Though she knew it was coming, she still jumped as
my lips touched her skin.  I quickly kissed her left cheek and the crack of
her ass.

   "All better?"

   "No.  Do it again." So I did.

   I pulled her up to her hands and knees, then positioned her so that her
knees were on the edge of the bed and her feet hung off in the air.  I
stepped between her feet then used one hand to caress her warm--and very
wet--pussy, while I unfastened my pants with the other.  Bobbi purred.

   I let my pants fall around my ankles, then put my right foot on the back
of my left shoe and stepped out of it.  I repeated the process for my other
shoe, then stepped out of my pants as well.  A second later, my underwear
had joined the pile of clothing all while I hadn't missed a beat working
Bobbi's pussy.

   Tami--bless her sneaky little heart--had left a small pile of rubbers on
the night stand, and using one hand and my teeth I got a package open.  I
rolled one onto my iron rod just as Bobbi's back arched and her head, eyes
closed, lifted to the ceiling as her orgasm hit her.  I pulled my hand from
beneath between her legs and slipped my cock into the valley.  As Big Tony
rubbed against her opening, I lifted my fingers to my nose and sniffed. 
Every girl I'd known smelled different and tasted different.  I was pretty
sure that even blindfolded I could identify each with my nose or tongue.

   "That was so goo..." I think she just realized that it wasn't a finger
at the gates anymore.

   I kept rubbing.  I'd been hard before I'd even gotten my clothes off, of
course.  This may not have been my idea, but I wasn't stupid enough to
think I wouldn't enjoy it.

   I reached down and used both hands to open her up, then bent my knees to
increase the angle and eased Big Tony's head against her inner lips.  She
wiggled against it, getting used to the invader.  I moved my hands to her
hips and pulled her slowly onto my shaft.  There wasn't much resistance,
just her natural tightness.  She must have already lost her cherry either
from playing with herself or some other activity.

   I had about half my length inside her when she grunted.  I stopped and
let her adjust, taking the opportunity to reach forward and tease her
t-shirt covered nipples.  Her breasts weren't even half the size of her
little sister's, but perky.  And damn, did I like perky.

   "Is this...  ?"

   I grinned to myself.  "Nope.  This is just getting you ready.  Trust me,
you'll know when we're fucking." I eased another inch into her.  "Has
anybody ever told you, you have nice tits?"

   "No." Her voice was in-between a groan and a purr.

   "Not even what's-his-name?"

   "Ha!  Josh is always sneaking looks at Betty's."

   "The boy's obviously mentally challenged."

   Bobbi didn't argue but pushed her ass back against me, swallowing
another inch.

   I moved my hands back to her hips, pulled back to the head, then slammed
forward to the hilt and stopped.

   "That felt..." a long pause, "goooood."

   "I'm guessing you want me to do it again?"

   "Yes, please," she said politely.

   I pulled back, and this time as I slammed my shaft forward, Bobbi pushed
her ass back to meet it.  "This is fucking," she declared.

   "We're getting there," I agreed.  I started building a rhythm, and soon
she was moaning as her second orgasm started building.  My balls ached as
my own climax neared, but I used every ounce of willpower I had to hold it
back as I increased the pace.

   "Oh, God!" Bobbi moaned and started to slump forward just as I drove
forward one last time and released my load into my protective sheath.  I
pulled out and collapsed next to her.  "That was the best ever," she said
weakly, lifting her head and looking at me.

   What do you say to that?  Thank you?

   "Why did I wait so long?" she asked rhetorically.

   I smiled and kissed her nose.



   Chapter 32

   "You dog, you."

   I didn't recognize the voice, but it had a touch of envy, so I looked
around.  Calvin Bateman was coming out of a room three doors down.  I
guessed that he'd seen me kissing a half-naked Bobbi saying goodbye.

   He walked over and clapped me on the back.  "I heard you were a player,
but I have to admit I'm impressed."

   Calvin was the only sophomore to make varsity and hadn't been my pick
for the job.  Robbie said he had potential, and I wasn't going to argue.

   Calvin grinned.  "If she's any good, maybe you could set me up."

   I wondered how much potential he'd have with two broken arms.

   "Not going there," I said simply.  I hoped there was enough edge in my
voice to shut him down.  I thought about saying that she had a boyfriend,
but under the circumstances, didn't think that would help.

   "I just thought that you had enough that you wouldn't mind sharing with
a buddy." Calvin was still grinning.

   "I was never big on sharing." We'd crossed the road and were in front of
our own motel.  My room was upstairs, and I thought his was on the ground
floor, so maybe I could end this without blood.

   "I just thought ...  I mean, everyone knows you're doing Tami and
Robbie. And those cheerleaders, Mikee and Darlene.  And last year, you took
that seventh grader to the dance, you must have got some action there."

   I'd heard a few people on television talk about the whole world turning
red just before they killed somebody.  I understood, 'cause my world was
getting darker by the second.  Last year when I'd taken Kelly to the dance,
it was to find out what was wrong with her.  And what was wrong was she'd
been raped.

   "Tony!"

   The voice dispelled the darkness that had been starting to surround me.
Tami and Robbie were coming out of the burger joint that shared the parking
lot with our motel.

   "We've been looking for you," Tami said as she ran up and gave me a full
body hug.  "And you don't want to kill anybody," she whispered in my ear
proving yet again her mind reading ability.

   "How about maiming?  Just a little?" I whispered back.

   Tami grinned, shook her head and kissed me.

   "You do realize that I'm here too," Robbie said after a minute.

   I stopped kissing Tami for a second.  "And I care why?" I went back to
wrestling with Tami's tongue.

   Robbie pouted.  Something she doesn't do well--not enough practice. 
"'Cause I'm a redhead and you have a thing for redheads."

   I stopped kissing Tami again and pulled back enough to look my love in
the eye without going cross-eyed.  "She has a point."

   Tami grinned.  "A pretty good one."

   "If only she hadn't cut off all that long beautiful hair," I lamented.

   "You said the other day that you'd gotten used to it," Tami reminded me.

   "Yeah, but..."

   "One more crack about her long-gone hair and I'll dye mine pink."

   I cringed and said, "Yes, ma'am."

   "Now kiss her before she tries to pout again."

   "Yes, ma'am."

   I let go of Tami, turned, pulled Robbie close, and kissed her hard.  I
believe in following orders.  Well, as long as they're fun orders.

   Tami noticed that Calvin was staring.  "Close your mouth already.  We've
already seen your tonsils."

   Calvin followed orders too.

   "Calvin, just a suggestion," I said when I'd let go of Robbie. 
"Concentrate on baseball.  It's all you can handle right now."

   Calvin stared.

   "And Calvin," Robbie added, "drop another easy fly ball 'cause you're
one-handing it, and I'll kick your balls into your sinus cavity."

   I put my arms around both girls and walked them toward the stairs up to
Robbie's room, which, coincidentally, was right next to mine.

   Calvin was still staring.

   Top of the seventh.  Down by two.  Two outs and nobody on.  And Sims
steps to the plate.

   Normally a good thing, but not this weekend.  I think I was batting
about one-twenty-five for the tournament and that might be optimistic.  And
the pitcher for the Warriors--the Oregon Warriors--threw a wicked fast ball
that had already burned me twice.  Though my last time up I got a piece of
it and beat out a slow roller to third.

   I took a couple cuts with my bat, then waited.  The pitcher wound up,
then seemed to grin as he sent me a fast ball that just cut the bottom
inside corner.  I knew it was a strike even before the ump yelled.

   I nodded to the pitcher and took another practice cut.  You had to
admire an artist.

   The pitcher wound up and fired again.  I watched the ball, and it was
coming straight for that low inside corner.  I swung just as the ball
dropped away.  Strike two.

   I backed out of the box and looked at the coach.  He smiled
encouragingly and mimed swinging the bat.  Easy for him, standing there in
the third base box.  I stepped back into the batter's box.  I didn't bother
taking a practice cut.

   The pitcher sent me another fast ball on the outside corner, and I
fouled it off.  The next pitch was perfect, middle of the plate belt high,
but all I managed to do was to foul it back, bouncing it off the catcher
and the umpire.  This was getting ridiculous.

   I was hitting good last year.  And fair to middlin' in practice.  The
pitcher fired another one, and I fouled it down the third base line, making
the coach jump.

   At least I was hitting the damn ball.

   Three more pitches and three more fouls.  My personal record was
thirteen foul balls in a row, and I really hadn't planned to beat that
today.

   The pitcher was getting frustrated--he wanted to finish me off and get
the game over--and he let loose with another fast ball, this one just a
little inside.

   I turned my body, brought the bat in front of me, and let the ball
bounce off it and roll down the third base line.  I dropped the bat and
took off for first.  The Warriors were caught flat-footed.  Nobody expects
a bunt with two strikes.  It was too stupid.  If the ball rolled foul, it
was strike three.

   Their coach started yelling from the dugout, and the Warrior's pitcher,
catcher, and third baseman all charged the ball, but I was safe on first
before anyone got a hand on the ball.

   I grinned.  My batting average just jumped almost a hundred points.

   The pitcher was back on the mound and looked at me.  I stepped off the
bag and smiled.  He threw the ball from his hand to his glove.  He was
still staring, so I took another step.  He stepped onto the rubber, looked
at the catcher, and took his sign.  I took another step.  He slowly brought
his hand and glove together over his head, lowered them in front of his
body, and came set with his hands in front of his sternum.  Then he turned
and fired to first in one fluid motion that I would have admired if I
wasn't busy diving back to the base.  I lay on the dirt, my left hand on
the base and waving at him with my right.

   The first baseman threw the ball back, and I climbed to my feet, dusted
myself off, and took three big steps again.

   The pitcher glared, so I took another small step and he fired back to
first.  The first baseman took the throw and slapped a tag down on my
shoulder--a little harder than necessary, I thought--but again I was lying
on the ground with my hand already on the base.

   The first baseman walked to the pitcher and handed him the ball,
whispering something, then walked back.  I stood, dusted myself off again,
and took three big steps.

   The pitcher watched me.

   I took another step.

   "Sometime today!" Robbie yelled from the plate.  The pitcher glanced at
her, then back at me.  He stepped onto the rubber.  He took another look at
me, and as he did, I took another small step toward second.

   The pitcher came set, then spun and fired to first, but I was already on
my way to second.  The first baseman caught the ball cleanly and fired to
second, but the throw was high.  It went over the second baseman's head and
into the gap between left and center fields.

   I hit second without stopping and headed for third.  I had no idea where
the ball was, so I went down, sliding headfirst, my hand outstretched
toward the bag.  Just as my hand clamped the canvas bag, the third
baseman's glove slapped down on top of it.

   "Safe!" yelled the umpire who'd run up behind me.  I held my other hand
in the air and he added, "Time!"

   I stood and dusted myself off for the third time.

   "I guess the memory is really the first thing to go," the coach said
from his box.

   I shrugged.

   "I don't even remember giving the signs for bunt or steal."

   I grinned.  "Seemed like a good idea at the time."

   I looked at the pitcher, who seemed frustrated.  I considered
curtseying, but he seemed like a good guy and I didn't want to rub it in.
Robbie ain't so nice.

   "Can I bat now?" she yelled.  "Or did you two want to play one-on-one
some more."

   The pitcher went from frustrated to mad.

   I decided that Robbie wasn't the only one who wasn't nice.  I caught the
coach's eye and gave him a signal.  He thought about it, then nodded,
though not as enthusiastically as I'd hoped.

   The pitcher stepped on the rubber.  Now, as he came set, he was looking
straight at me.  I took a big lead.  I could see him thinking about me and
smiled.

   "Go ahead and windup!" his coach yelled from the dugout.  The pitcher
stepped backward off the rubber with his right foot, then back on with both
feet.  He glanced at me, and I waved.  He made a face, then started his
windup.  As soon as he was in motion, so was I.

   Someone behind me was yelling, "He's going!"

   I'd had a big jump, so the ball and I were going to get to the plate at
the same time.  I went down, sliding head first again as Robbie laid down a
perfect bunt and took off for first.  I lay on the plate and watched as she
beat the throw by at least a step-and-a-half.

   Okay, life was getting better.  Still two outs, but only down by one,
and the tying run was on first.  And the tying run was Monster Girl.  I got
up and started walking toward the dugout, then changed my mind.  Ricky was
coaching first.  I went over and took his place, giving the pitcher another
friendly wave.

   Robbie took a big lead off bag even before the pitcher stepped on the
rubber.  He glared at her.  Then me.  "Another step," I said loudly as he
stepped on the rubber.  He ignored us, turning his back and coming set.  I
caught Robbie's eye and shook my head, then yelled, "Big step!"

   The pitcher turned his shoulder and looked.

   "Balk!" the umpire yelled.

   Robbie gave me a grin and trotted to second.  I'd swear her ass was
wiggling more than usual, but maybe it was my imagination.

   The pitcher was obviously shook up.  He glared at Robbie, but she was
standing on the bag chatting with the shortstop and second baseman and not
even looking at him.  Then he glared at me, and I shrugged.  Then he
stepped on the rubber with both feet facing the batter.

   'He's not going to throw from the windup, ' I thought, but a second
later he'd started his motion.  Robbie had seen it too and was heading for
third before I could even yell, "Go!".

   The pitch to Chet was outside.  The catcher snagged it and fired to
third, but Robbie was already there.

   Their coach was yelling traditional coach things from the dugout. 
"Settle down." "Get the batter.  He's the one we want." "Three strikes and
we're out of here."

   The pitcher glared at me again.  I'm not sure why.  I'm not the one who
told him to windup.  He took a deep breath and focused on the batter. 
Robbie took a big lead but he ignored her.  He started his motion and
fired.

   The ball hit the dirt and bounced to the side, though for some reason
Chet had swung at it.  The ball was past the catcher, and he scrambled
after it.  Robbie was halfway and Chet was waving her home.  The catcher
got to the ball, turned, and ...  there was no one to throw to.  The
pitcher, instead of covering home, was stomping around the mound.

   Robbie crossed the plate.

   Their coach was out of the dugout and yelling about a foul ball and
Robbie going back to third.  The plate ump looked confused.  "Did you see
it touch the bat?" I asked the base ump who was standing on the foul line a
dozen feet from me.

   "It never came close," he said.

   "You might want to point it out to them," I said pointing to the plate
umpire and Warrior's coach.

   And life was good again.  We were tied.

   The pitcher threw four pitches that weren't even close and walked Chet.
Then their coach called time, put the pitcher on third, the third baseman
in center field, and the center fielder came in and started throwing warmup
pitches.

   The new pitcher walked Ricky, but that might have been a plan.  Ricky
had two ground rule doubles already today.  That put runners on first and
second and brought up ...  Calvin.

   Calvin hit the first pitch into deep center.  The center fielder caught
it on the bounce and fired it to the shortstop, who turned and fired home.
Chet was already across the plate, and Ricky was getting close.  The
catcher was straddling the plate.  He caught the ball and slapped down the
tag as Ricky slid.

   There was a lot of dust and...

   "Got him!" the ump yelled.

   There was enough dust that I wasn't going to argue, even though I wanted
to.

   Not the worst position to be in going into the bottom of seven.  Up by
one.

   We hold 'em and win, or let 'em score one and we play another inning, or
we let 'em score two and move to the loser's bracket.

   "Hey, coach," I said as I joined the team in front of the dugout.  "Got
a wicked idea." Even without hearing it, Robbie grinned.

   Rickie was grinning too as I explained.  The coach just nodded.

   "Play it up," I said as we put our hands in the center of the circle and
yelled, "Hold 'em!"

   We ran onto the field.

   "Hey, Robbie, you should pitch," Rickie yelled.

   "Okay!" Robbie yelled back and ran to the mound and picked up the ball.
She stood on the rubber looking real serious then did an exaggerated
wind-up and pitched the ball.  The ball flew slowly right into Chet's mitt.

   "Strike one!" Ricky yelled.  "Hey, Jake, we don't need you."

   Jake, who'd pitched the first six innings, blew Ricky a raspberry.

   Robbie threw another easy pitch as Jake and the coach walked out to the
mound.  The coach held out his hand and Robbie dropped the ball that Chet
had thrown back into it.

   Ricky at first was throwing a grounder to Jimmy at third, so I checked
out the Warrior's coach.  Just as expected, he was in conference with the
plate umpire.  A second later, as Robbie trotted to second, the plate
umpire signaled the base umpire to join them.

   "Uh, coach!" the ump yelled a few seconds later as Jake was taking his
place on the mound.

   Coach Calloway joined them.

   I walked over to Jake.  He glanced at the conference, then at me.  "You
have an evil mind."

   I shrugged.  "Monster Girl has the evil mind.  I just try to stay
competitive."

   The coach was gesturing frantically.  "You want her to pitch?"

   I grinned and slapped Jake on the back before walking back to shortstop.
"Ham it up," I said to Robbie as I passed by.

   A minute later, the coach was back at the mound sending Jake to the
dugout and calling Robbie over.  She threw three more practice pitches.

   Before the game I'd been talking to some of the parents in the stands.
One of the Warrior's parents happened to mention that their coach liked to
play the rulebook.  I happened to know that there was a rule that if a
pitcher threw even one warm-up pitch, he or she had to face at least one
batter before they could be replaced.  I also knew that Jake had told the
coach at the end of the last inning that his arm was getting sore.  Put
that all together, and Robbie was going to pitch to their best batter.

   The umpire called "Play ball!" and their first baseman stepped to the
plate looking like Christmas had come early.  Robbie looked nervous.  She
looked around as if waiting for the cavalry to ride to her rescue.  The
batter grinned.

   Then Robbie started her wind-up, not so exaggerated, and blew a fast
ball right through the high inside corner.

   It was my turn to grin.  Robbie might not be as fast as some of the
other pitchers, but man, could she place the ball.

   "What the hell was that?" The warriors coach yelled in amazement from
the third base coaches box as his batter just stood and looked at the ball
nestled in the catcher's glove.

   "That was a strike," I yelled back.  "Didn't you hear the ump call it?"

   The batter kept looking at the ball, then back at Robbie, then back at
the ball.  Ricky laughed, which probably didn't help.

   Chet, our catcher, stood up, then pulled his mask up leaving it propped
on top of his head.  He looked down at the ball.  "Damn, how'd that get
there?" he said with a grin before throwing it back to Robbie.

   Robbie smiled at the batter, then fired another fast ball, middle of the
plate, right across the letters.

   Strike two.

   My plan was to get their clean-up hitter off-balance and it seemed to be
working.  He'd expected easy meatballs like she'd thrown in warm-ups and
was having trouble making the mental adjustment to Robbie's pitching.

   Robbie and I had both noticed that he liked low pitches, so she was
keeping them above the belt.  Fortunately we had a good ump who called the
high pitches too.  Some umps didn't.

   Robbie glanced at me and I--as nonchalantly as I could--stuck out my
thumb and swiped it across my neck.  Robbie nodded and stepped on the
rubber again.  She wound up and fired, the ball was high and inside, about
six inches in front of the batter's throat.  He backed out swinging.

   The ump rung up strike three.

   The choke pitch is mean.  It's almost a complete reflex to back out
swinging when you think the ball is targeted on your Adam's apple.  Plus,
if the pitcher doesn't have great control, he, or she in this case, could
really hurt the batter.

   One out and still up by one.

   The second batter went down swinging.  Robbie had rung up a pair of
strikes on two fastballs, one on the inside corner and the other just
catching the outside.  Then she gave him her curve.

   Two down.

   The next batter was taking her seriously.  I'd watched him timing her
pitches in the on-deck circle.  He stepped into the batter's box, and
Robbie sized him up.  She started her wind-up and fired a fast ball on the
outside corner.  The batter swung and fouled it off the face of the first
base dugout.

   Ricky jogged over, picked it up, and tossed it to Monster Girl.  Robbie
stepped onto the rubber again.  She took her sign from Chet, but shook it
off.  She nodded at the next one, wound up, and fired.

   I recognized her curve, but unfortunately, so did the batter.  He
waited, then swung as the ball started to break.

   I heard the crack of the bat and was already moving toward left field.
Calvin was playing left and was running backwards, trying to get under it.

   The ball hit the top of its arc and was coming down.

   It was going to stay in the field at least.

   Calvin was camped under it, waiting.  I heard Ricky yell, "Second!"
which meant the runner had rounded first and was on his way to second base.

   The ball came down to Calvin's left, and instead of moving under it he
reached over.  The ball landed in the top of his glove.  I waited to see if
it popped out.  If it did, they'd never find the body.

   The base ump was running beside me and signaled a catch and the third
out.  We won.

   Robbie, Ricky, and I jogged to the dugout, while the rest of the team
ran out to hail Calvin as the hero.  The coach watched the three of us and
the rest of the team as the Warriors slunk off the field.

   When the team gathered round and quieted down, the coach looked at me.
"Tony, who are you thinking for MVP?"

   I was startled.  The last two years he'd announced the
Most-Valuable-Player by just tossing him the game ball.  I glanced around
the team, I know a lot of them were thinking Calvin.

   "Chet.  No question.  He did a great job behind the dish and with the
deep backstop they have, a few passed balls and we could have gotten
pounded.  He was hitting pretty good, too.  A lot better than me anyway. 
Of course my aunt's chihuahua hits better than I did today."

   Annoying how many people nodded agreement about Aunt Patti's chihuahua.

   Coach Callahan looked at Ricky and Robbie, and they nodded.  He smiled
and tossed Chet the game ball.  "Good job."

   "What about me?" Calvin whined.

   I looked over at him.  "I'm not the captain, but if I was, you'd be
running laps until next week for that catch."

   We hadn't voted a captain yet, but my money was on Ricky.

   "If I was captain, I'd trade you to JV," Ricky added.

   "And if I was captain, you'd be going back to T-ball," Robbie said,
having the last word.

   Robbie and I sat in the bleachers and watched games while Tami and Bobbi
went shopping.  On the other side of the winner's bracket, The Spartans
beat the Cavaliers which meant we'd be seeing them tomorrow.

   Then the Warriors stayed alive by beating the Panthers.  The Cavaliers
weren't ready to go home yet either.  They beat the Bulldogs.

   "Are you two baseballed out?" Tami asked.  She and Bobbi showed up just
before the last out.

   "No," we answered together.

   "Are you two shopped out?" I added.

   Tami grinned.  "Not hardly, but I may need a loan."

   "I wonder what she'll use for collateral," Bobbi said with a leer.

   Robbie grabbed her by the back of the neck and started steering her out
of the bleachers.  "Obviously, I need to teach my little sister some
subtlety," she said as they disappeared.

   "And just what collateral were you planning to ask for?" Tami asked.

   "It occurs to me that I don't have a game until tomorrow at eleven.  We
have time to negotiate."

   Tami slipped her hand into my back pocket as we climbed down the
bleachers.  "Negotiate.  Is that what the kids are calling it today?"

   The Warriors beat the Cavaliers easily in the nine o'clock game, and two
hours later we'd polished off the Spartans.  The Spartans had to turn
around and face the Warriors and just ran out of steam, letting the
Warriors ten-run them in five innings.

   Since it was a short game, the Warriors had a chance to rest before
facing us again in the championship game.

   They might as well as taken a nap.

   We put five runs on the board in the first inning, and neither of us
scored again.

   Four games and we were undefeated.

   And had a nice big trophy to take home.

   That's how to start spring break.



   Chapter 33

   "It's really over, isn't it?"

   I've never wanted to lie more.  There was so much pain in her voice.

   "Trace, I..."

   "You don't have to say anything.  I think he made it clear."

   It was Tuesday after our tournament.  I'd worked at the gym all day, and
Traci and Kelly had team.  Just before we'd finished, Mikee and Peter had
shown up, looking for a ride home.

   Peter hadn't said a word to Traci all the way home.  Hadn't even looked
at her.

   "I don't think it matters.  The boy ain't got all that long to live."
Peter hadn't said a word to me either.  He hadn't asked for a ride, just
climbed in with his sisters.  And hadn't bothered to say thanks or
acknowledge me in any way.  If there's one thing I hate, it's being taken
for granted.

   Traci smiled.  I was kind of amazed that she still could.  "Let it go."

   "Can you?"

   Traci shrugged as she got out of the car.  I got out and followed her
into the house.  We had it to ourselves again.  Mom was in Seattle and Dad
was in Olympia.  And Tami was over at Robbie's.

   "Any thoughts on dinner?" I asked.

   "Not hungry," Traci said as she headed for the back.

   She should have been.  It had been a long hard workout, and she hadn't
eaten since lunch.

   I walked down the hall to her room.

   She hadn't closed the door.  Inside, she'd peeled off her sweat-soaked
leotard and pulled on a pair of shorts.  She was sitting on her bed in the
shorts and a black sports bra staring into space.

   "You okay?"

   She blinked.  "I guess.  It just hurt."

   "I know," I said and sat down beside her.  "I wish I could make it
better."

   Traci hugged me.  "My big brother.  He'd fix everything if he could."

   I kissed her forehead.

   "I wish ...  Sometimes I wish..."

   "Yes?" I prompted.

   "I wish you weren't my brother.  I wish you were just the boy next
door."

   I kissed her on the nose.  "I think that's one of the nicest things
anyone's ever said about me," I said, knowing just how she'd meant it.

   Traci kissed me on the mouth.  It wasn't a sisterly kiss.

   I didn't pull away.  At first it was because I couldn't do that to her.
But then, it was something else.  Without realizing it, my hand was full of
her bra covered breast.

   Traci moaned softly.

   There was a voice in the back of my head yelling, 'Run, don't walk to
the nearest exit.' I ignored it as I pushed Traci onto her back and
continued to kiss her.

   Her nipple had grown hard under the thin material of her sports bra, and
I massaged it between my thumb and forefinger.  Her hand reached down and
started rubbing the bulge in my shorts.

   I knew there was a reason this was bad, but I couldn't remember what it
was.

   Traci's hand pushed into my shorts and enveloped my cock, and I almost
lost it right then.  I broke away from our kiss, pushed her bra up off her
tits, and sucked one of her nipples into my mouth, teasing it with my
tongue.

   Traci worked my shorts down, rolled me onto my back, and straddled my
legs.  There was a frenzied haste to our actions, as if we both knew we had
to finish before reason took hold.

   Traci worked her shorts off, then guided my rod into her tunnel of love.
She ground herself against me at a fevered pace, and almost before I knew
what we were doing, it was over.  For both of us.

   Traci lay against me, breathing hard.  "You don't know how much I needed
that."

   I looked at her as if seeing her for the very first time and wondered
why it had taken so long.

   "I needed that," she repeated.  "But it was the last time."

   "Huh?"

   "Tony, I don't want pity fucks.  I wanted that one, but no more. 
Besides, when you little head stops hogging all the blood and your big head
gets some, you're going to feel guilty.  My advice, don't.  "I think this
was inevitable.  It was fate or something.  But it's done.  And from now on
we're brother and sister.  Just brother and sister."

   "Brat," I said with a smile.

   She smiled back.  "Just like that.  My big brother who protects and,
like the song says, 'watches over me.'"

   I remembered back to the Fourth of July show when Trace had sung Someone
to Watch Over Me.

   Traci stood, grabbed her shorts off the floor and a t-shirt off the
dresser and turned toward the door.  She paused and looked back at me still
lying on her bed.  "But if you want to fantasize about my body..." And with
an extra wiggle of her butt she was gone.

   "I had sex with Traci."

   "I know," Tami said and laid her head on my shoulder as we walked.  I
wondered if I'd have any secrets at all when we were married.  Decided I
wouldn't, and also decided that I didn't care.

   "She needed it," Tami added.

   "That's what she said.  She also said it was the last time."

   "She's a smart girl.  You raised her right."

   "I think Mom and Dad would like some of the credit."

   "Fifty per cent you and fifty per cent them?"

   "More like sixty forty.  I'm a hell of an influence."

   I felt Tami nod against my shoulder.  "That you are."

   We walked it silence for a couple of orbits.

   "Are you okay with it?" Tami asked finally.

   "I am.  I think I'm surprised, but I am."

   "It was ...  just something that had to happen."

   "That's what Traci said."

   Tami nodded again.  "Like I said, a very smart girl.  Now what?"

   "She said now we go back to being just brother and sister." I wondered
for the first time if maybe, just maybe, I wasn't the smartest one in the
family.

   "So what about the rest of your harem?"

   "What?"

   "You've ignored them for months.  Now that you've broken the ice with
Bobbi and Traci, do the rest of them get some attention?"

   I smiled in spite of myself.  "Why do you always ask the hard
questions?"

   "Because the easy ones are no fun."



   Chapter 34

   'Damn!  This day just keeps getting better and better, ' I thought as I
saw that someone had parked their SUV in front of our trailer, in MY
parking spot.  I parked my Mustang along the side road, Lauren Chapin
Boulevard.  At that point I would have parked on Lauren Chapin herself.  I
never liked Father Knows Best, and Kitty was usually annoying.

   I grabbed my equipment bag off the back seat and slammed the door.  Then
I went back and apologized to Sally.  Yeah, I know, Mustang Sally is a
cliche, but sometimes I like cliches.

   As I walked in the door, I saw Dad in his chair and could hear Mom--or
Traci, but probably Mom--in the kitchen.  I tossed my equipment bag
disgustedly in the hall.

   "I'm quitting school," I announced loudly.  "That damn Butz had..."

   "Attennnnn-shun!!!"

   Without conscious thought, I snapped straight.  Shoulders back, chest
out, eyes forward, and barely breathing.  A few seconds later, a face
appeared in my field of view.  Though I was now an inch taller than him, he
had no trouble getting nose to nose with me.  Off to my left I heard a
giggle and knew Trace was in the room, too.

   Colonel Grandad stared at me.  I wanted to blink but couldn't.  I'm not
sure how long we stayed like that.  I think it was less than a week, but I
wouldn't put money on it.

   The Colonel finally stepped back.  "What happened on June twenty-fifth
nineteen fifty?" He asked without making eye contact again.

   "Sir!  North Korea crossed the thirty-eighth parallel, invading South
Korea, Sir."

   "And what happened on July fifth?"

   "Sir!  The Twenty-Fourth Infantry Division engaged North Korean troops
at Osan and was forced to retreat to Taejeon, Sir."

   "And on July twelfth?"

   "An ROTC cadet received highly unusual and suspicious orders to leave
college before his senior year and the completion of his ROTC and report
via military transport to Pusan as a second lieutenant.  The Marine Corps
never did figure out who originated those orders, Sir."

   I thought I saw the corner of the Colonel's mouth lift just a little in
a hidden smile but sure as hell wasn't going to mention it.

   "And despite not finishing my senior year before going to Korea..."

   "Sir!  Or starting it, Sir."

   "Or starting it." This time I was sure that Gramps was hiding a smile.
"What degrees do I hold?"

   "Sir!  You have doctorates in history and economics.  You also attended
the National War College, though I don't know if they give a degree or what
it is.  You're currently working on a masters in political science, which
you consider bullsh..." I knew Mom was listening.  "BS, Sir."

   "So, are you quitting school, boy?"

   "Sir!  No, sir.  Only a fool would quit school.  Unless of course North
Korea invades again."

   The Colonel lost the fight to hide his grin.

   "And there's only one fool allowed in this family.  Grandpa John," I
said naming my other grandfather.  Dad's dad and the Colonel were friendly
antagonists.

   The Colonel's grin got bigger.  "You got that one right, boy."

   "Permission to speak, Sir?"

   I'd been released from attention and was sitting on one of the dining
room chairs.  Trace was sitting next to Grandpa Doug on the sofa.

   The Colonel smiled.  "You're not in trouble, so you don't have to
pretend to be in the Marines." Unlike some jarheads, according to Mom, when
she was growing up, Grandpa left the Corps at the door and treated family
like family.  But I always enjoyed treating him like the senior officer he
was.

   "I just wondered where the smart half of the couple is?" The Colonel had
two doctorates, Grandma Vickie had four.

   "She's either in Tulsa teaching a seminar on the civil rights protests
of the sixties or in Houston having a beer at her friend's restaurant."

   "Actually, in between," said Mom's voice from the kitchen.  "She called
me from the airport an hour ago."

   "Is that the restaurant that has beer from thirty countries," Traci
asked.

   "They were up to fifty-eight the last I heard," The Colonel answered.

   "That reminds me," Dad said from his chair.  When you were in Antarctica
last year, did you happen to run into a marine biologist named Gerald
Ken... ?"

   "I didn't hang out with no namby-pamby scientists," Grandpa Doug
thundered.  Dad had always been a little intimidated by my favorite Marine,
and the Colonel enjoyed rubbing it in.  "I was with Marines."

   "We were just asking because we just found out Gerry Kennedy's a
cousin," Traci explained.

   "Kennedy, you say," The Colonel mused.

   "Fitzgerald or Gerry."

   "Name sounds familiar, but I didn't meet any of the science staff ... 
There was a medic though.  Something Kennedy.  Kinda cute.  If I wasn't a
happily married man..."

   I laughed.  "That would be your niece once removed, you dirty old man."

   The Colonel grinned.  "Really?"

   "Yep.  Gerry is Aunt Millie's youngest son."

   "I'll be.  Now that you mention it, I think Vickie sent him something
for his wedding."

   "He mentioned that.  Something Japanese.  I figured it was when you were
a major in Osaka."

   The Colonel chuckled.  "Yer a smart one, boy, but ya missed that by a
few years.  I got out of the Corps in seventy-eight.  He probably hadn't
even started high school yet.  It was a few years later.  I was a guest
lecturer at Waseda University.  Vickie has always been a smart cookie.  In
our travels she picks up dozens of knick-knacks from exotic places so that
she has them on hand for weddings, birthdays, anniversaries and that sort
of thing.  She kind of overdid it in Japan.  For years, everybody who got
married got Japanese figurines.

   I remembered that Mitch had mentioned a Japanese wedding gift too.

   "So how did you find out about that side of the family?"

   "It all started this summer," Traci explained.  "Tony's girlfriend Tami
decided to highjack everybody on a road trip and..."

   "So, are you ever going to tell us just how you got ordered to Korea
when you were a cadet?" I asked before taking a bite of my lasagna.

   Gramps finished chewing.  "I've told you.  The orders came out of
BUPERS, the Bureau of Personnel in the Navy Department, just like all
orders.  They just never figured out who initiated them."

   "And you had nothing to do with it?" I asked skeptically.

   Gramps took a bite of his garlic bread and chewed thoughtfully for a
minute.  "What was it you said was the favorite saying of that spice girl
cousin of yours?"

   "Cousin Cinnamon," Traci supplied.

   "You can never have too many friends," I added.

   "Let's just say she's not the first one in the family to figure that
out."

   "I want to hear Grandpa tell the story about Mommy and Daddy getting
married,"

   Traci, sitting next to the Colonel, kept a straight face as Dad turned a
delicious shade of red.  I was sitting on the floor across from them.

   Mom chuckled.  "I think we should save that for when Tami comes over
later."

   I'm not sure if Dad looked relieved or annoyed.

   "Dad, why don't you tell Tony and Traci about the Philippine general."

   The Colonel leaned back on the sofa.  "Well, it's a good story, but it's
classified."

   "I don't think the kids are security risks," Mom prodded.

   "Trace maybe.  She can't keep a secret." The female half of my
generation shot me dirty looks.

   "Besides," Mom continued, "you told me and Patty the story years ago."

   "Well..."

   "Please," Traci pleaded.

   "I don't know..."

   "Pleasssseeee."

   I didn't say a word.  I knew how hard it was to say no to Traci's
puppy-dog look.

   "Okay.  But bear in mind that under the National Security Act of
nineteen-forty-seven, if you repeat anything I tell you, you could be
finishing school at Guantanamo."

   "Dad, you've told that story in every officer's club in the Western
Hemisphere."

   "But those were Marines."

   "And these are your grandchildren."

   "Okay." He looked at me first, then Traci.  "How much do you know about
the Philippines?"

   "Traci can find them on a map," I said smiling, "but usually forgets the
double-P."

   The brat stuck her tongue out at me.

   "The Philippines were run by Ferdinand Marcos from about sixty-five on.
In the seventies, he declared martial law.  He said to protect the country
from communists, but others claimed it was to protect his power.  In early
seventy-eight, the Philippines held an election while still under martial
law, and Marcos's power was reconfirmed.

   "The election did not go completely smoothly, and there were a lot of
charges of vote buying and election fraud.  People in the United States
were very critical, and as a result, relations between us and the
Philippines were not happy.

   "During that summer, the CIA discovered that one of Marcos's top
generals and closest friends was being paid by the Soviets.  The CIA's head
man in the islands brought the evidence to Marcos and was thrown out of the
office, and I do mean thrown." Grandpa grinned.

   "That left us with the problem of the general.  His name was Varata.

   "The spooks wanted to have him killed, but the State Department boys
thought if there was even suspicion by Marcos that we were involved, Marcos
might throw us out of the country.

   "The story happened to get to a friend of mine, a captain named Tommy
Rawls.  Tommy came up with a plan.

   "It just so happened that I was doing a stint with G-2, that's
intelligence, and got attached to Tommy's unit, so I was there when it all
happened.  I even held the camera most of the time.

   "The general was head of the Philippines Special Forces.  Someone at
State suggested that the U.S.  and the Philippines make a training movie
about counter-insurgency techniques.  The general loved the idea.  It was a
chance for him to showcase his troops and be a star.

   "The idea was, the Philippine troops would do a jungle patrol and then
set up a camp and the Marines would attack them.  Then a narrator could
explain what each force did right and wrong.  Then the roles would be
reversed and they'd do it again.  There were supposed to be five attacks
each, two on the patrol as it moved through the jungle and three against
the camp."

   I thought I could see the plan.  "Let me guess, the Philippines special
forces weren't all that special."

   "No, some of them were very good," the Colonel corrected.  "But the
general had never bothered to learn the tricks of the trade, and he was in
charge.  Some of it's common sense and some of it's things learned the hard
way in places like Korea and Vietnam.  Little things.  The first time the
Marines hit the camp, there was a big silver sign with a four stars on it
in front of the largest tent.  That's like taking an advertisement in the
New York Times: Big shot here, please blow me up.

   "The Marines hit the general's men five times and each time, inflicted
over eighty-per-cent casualties--simulated, of course--including the
general and his senior officers.  When the Phillies hit the Marines, we
never lost more than two people--that's out of a thirty-two man unit--and
the Phillies lost fifty-per cent or more."

   "Not exactly even," I commented.

   "Not exactly," Gramps agreed.  "When we attacked, I was on the movie
camera, and Tommy told me where to keep focused.  When we got attacked, I
or one of the Marines would grab the camera as quickly as possible, though
for most of those, we knew when the attacks were coming because of our
scouts."

   "I don't get it," Traci said.  "In war games there's always winners and
losers."

   Grandpa looked at me.

   "Machismo," I said tentatively and he nodded.  "I'll bet when the film
got edited, the comments were really critical about every little mistake
the Filipinos made, but couched in flowery language that sounded at first
take like they were complementing the Generalissimo." That was how Robbie
or Cinnamon would have done it.

   "Exactly," the Colonel agreed.  "And somehow the film got on television
all over the islands.  Not everyone had television, but those that didn't
see it still heard about it."

   Traci still looked confused.

   "The Philippines is a Latin culture.  Very big on Machismo," I
explained. "It's like the Japanese and their face.  You know how in the
movies a Japanese dude is disgraced and 'loses face', then commits
Hari-Kari?"

   "Seppuku," the Colonel corrected as Traci nodded.

   "The general was disgraced over the failure of his men to stop the
marines.  I'll bet he resigned within a week."

   "Four days," the Colonel corrected again.  He caught my eye and made a
pistol out of his thumb and forefinger, then pointed his forefinger into
his open mouth and dropped his thumb.

   I nodded.

   "So it was kind of like Mission: Impossible," Traci said.

   Gramps grinned.  "But without the rubber masks and Peter Graves."

   "Peter who?"

   Tami was sitting, straddling my legs as I sat on a chair at the edge of
the dining room.  She'd come over a few minutes after the Colonel had
finished his Philippines story.  I was massaging her shoulders while the
adults talked.  Traci and Grandpa still had the sofa, and Mom sat on the
arm of Dad's chair.

   "You have the best relatives," Tami whispered after the Colonel had
finished his story about last year's arctic, or rather antarctic, training.

   I nodded and started nibbling on her ear.

   "Hey!  Adults in the room," Mom said in mock disapproval.

   "And little sisters."

   Mom gave the brat a dirty look but didn't say anything.

   "I thought I broke you of the habit of sitting on chair arms," Gramps
said in his own mock disapproval.

   "You did.  You said when I buy the furniture I can sit any way I want. I
bought this myself."

   Gramps shook his head.

   "And Tony and Traci know better than to sit like this until they buy the
furniture too."

   We both nodded.

   "Dad, I think you should tell Tami that story that Traci wanted to hear
about us getting married."

   Dad, my dad, that is, gave Mom an 'et tu, Brutus' look.

   "I think she should know the kind of family she's getting into," Mom
added, ignoring Dad and his look.

   Dad sighed.  "And I think you and I should learn a lesson from our
first-born and take a romantic walk around the park." Without waiting for a
response, he stood and held out his hand.  Mom took his hand, and the two
left.

   "Coward," the Colonel muttered.  I guessed he was talking about Dad.

   "Let's see, Tony's seventeen, so it must have been about fourteen years
ago that your mom called and told me she was engaged."

   "Try again," I corrected.  "I've seen the wedding license."

   "Me, too," Traci added.

   "Actually, I've seen it too," Tami put in.  "And I'm not as good at math
as Tony, but when I subtracted the date from this year, I came up with more
than fourteen."

   "Did I say fourteen?  I meant twenty-one," he said with a grin. 
"Anyway, I was in Brussels visiting an old friend, your grandmother was in
Paris visiting the dress shops, and your mom calls and says she's engaged.
And not only wasn't the guy a Marine, he wasn't even a swabbie or Air
Farce. Not even a grunt.  AND ...  well, the shame of it all--but Tami
darling, you have to know if you're going to marry that guy you're sitting
on--his parents were Democrats.  Even voted for that damned peanut farmer."

   "You mean Carter?" Tami asked.

   "Shush!" Traci and I said together.

   "Around Grandpa that's a dirty word," Traci explained.

   "The amnesty and all," I added.

   "Amnesty, my great Aunt Petunia!" the Colonel bellowed.  "It was an
invitation for people to ignore their duty.  If there's ever another war
and we need the draft, everyone will just take a vacation in Canada until
the next blasted amnesty." He realized how loud he was and added, "Sorry,"
in a normal tone.

   "Anyway, I flew to Paris, then the two of us flew back to DC 'cause the
Marine Corps Ball was the next night."

   He looked at me, then at Traci.  "You should have seen your grandmother.
I was just another retired colonel, but she was the queen of the ball." He
looked misty-eyed off into space for a minute.  I'd seen the pictures. 
Grandma was beautiful.

   "Your mom and dad had driven from college.  It was about one in the
morning when we got back to the hotel, and they were waiting.  I took one
look at your dad and said, 'Throw him back, he ain't even legal limit.'"

   I love my dad but I have to admit that physically, he ain't very
impressive.  Average height, average build, average weight, though I think
lately he'd been putting on a couple of pounds.

   "So your mom looked me in the eye and said, 'Daddy, I'm going to marry
him, ' while your dad quivered in the corner."

   "Gramps." The Colonel looked startled 'cause he hates to be called
gramps.  "You're not being completely fair," I said.  "You forgot to
mention that you were decked out in dress blues with a row of ribbons that
practically stretched to the floor.  You were a pretty impressive sight."

   "And you had a sword," Traci added.

   "What's that got to do with anything?" the Colonel thundered.

   I don't think Gramps would have been intimidated by a T-Rex in full
roar. Gramps stared alternately at the three of us for several seconds
before continuing.  "So your mother said 'Daddy, I'm going to marry him, '
and I looked him over again, and said, 'Over my dead body.'

   "Your grandmother whispered something to your dad, then he stepped
forward, looked me in the eye, and said, 'Then I hope your life insurance
is paid up, so that Vickie is provided for, 'cause we're getting married.'
Then he stepped over to your mom, kissed her, and looked back at me.

   "We stared at each other for about a minute.  It would have been more
impressive if he hadn't blinked every three seconds."

   Dad never could win a staring contest.  Even when Trace and I were
little.

   "Then your dad said, 'And WHEN we get married, we MIGHT invite you if
you can do two things.' 'What?" I asked.  He said, 'Behave yourself and...
' I waited.

   "He smiled.  'Wear that uniform when you give away the bride.' I decided
then that he might not be the worst son-in-law on the planet."

   "And I'm glad you did too," Trace said.  "Otherwise I wouldn't be here."

   Gramps smiled.  "In that case honey, I'm glad I did too."

   Gramps had gone to bed--he was the early-to-bed-early-to-rise type--and
Tami and I were taking our walk.  She was full of questions about the
Colonel.  After all, he was a hell of a guy, even in jeans and a plaid
flannel shirt.  I couldn't wait to have her see him all decked out in
blues.

   "I feel like I'm not doing my part."

   "Huh?" I replied brilliantly.

   "Relatives.  You have grandparents, your Aunt Patti, your cousins in
Colorado, and all those other cousins you don't even talk to.  All I've got
is Mom."

   "And guess what?  That's just Mom's side of the family.  Dad just has
his parents."

   "That reminds me.  Why is your other grandfather named Cooper?"

   "Grandpa John's parents were named Cooper, and they thought it would
make it easier to keep track of him."

   "Smartass."

   I grinned.

   "Why aren't you a Cooper?"

   "'Cause my parents are named Sims and they thought it would make it
easier to keep track of me." I love it when Tami feeds me an easy straight
line.

   Tami glared at me.  She has a way of seeming to stomp her foot without
actually moving.  That foot just stomped.

   "Tami, my Little Mustang, my grandparents--Dad's parents--were pretty
much hippies.  They never did the drop-out-tune-in thing or lived in a
commune, but they were as liberal as could be.  Very eco-minded, civil
rights marches, anti-establishment, the whole thing."

   "Do they know you plan to be a Republican?"

   "Yes, but so far, they haven't written me out of the will.  Anyway, when
Dad was born, they thought it was anti-woman to have a child take the
father's name, so Dad and now Traci and I are Sims."

   "Am I ever going to meet them?"

   "You never know, but probably not until the wedding.  Grandpa just
retired from teaching three years ago, and I don't think they've slowed
down since.  Last week they were doing a photo safari in Kenya, and now
they're checking out the Pyramids.  Then I think they're off to Turkey for
another archaeology dig.  When Grandpa Cooper was teaching, we'd see them a
couple times a year, but now..." I shrugged.

   "Your grandfather was a teacher?  He'll be proud when he finds out
that's what you're going to do.  It may even make up for the Republican
thing."

   "I'm not so sure," I said ruefully.  "I want to teach middle school or
high school so I can coach.  John Cooper was head of the history department
at Harvard." I'd pronounced Harvard as pompously as I could.  "He'll
probably accuse me of slacking."

   We'd stopped in front of Tami's trailer.  Inside I could see her mother
moving around and suddenly wondered if she felt slighted.  I mean we always
hung out at my place.

   "As long as you don't slack on my goodnight kiss," Tami said breaking my
train of thought.

   I think I did my whole family proud.



   Chapter 35

   "I see you decided to show up after all."

   I'd been standing and talking to Coach Calloway and Doug Mendenhall. 
Doug was the plate umpire for today's game and the senior umpire for this
part of the state.  The base umpire was pretty senior too.  I guess Wasay
wasn't taking any chances.

   I turned and saw Coach Rich standing just inside the backstop.

   I looked back at Coach Calloway.  "Coach, if I call a teacher a
fat-assed neanderthal idiot will I get in trouble?  Especially since he
isn't one of my teachers.  We're not at our school.  And he is a fat-assed
neanderthal idiot."

   Coach Calloway looked tired.  "Yes, Tony."

   I looked at Rich.  "Too bad."

   "Why you little..." Rich said as he stepped toward me.  'Please hit me,
' I prayed.

   Coach Calloway stepped between us.  "Tony apologize."

   "Sorry, Coach, can't do it."

   "Two laps.  Then hit the dugout.  You're sitting."

   "That's putting the little twerp in his place," Rich smirked.

   A baseball slammed into Rich in the side of his rib cage.  He staggered
against the fence.  Coach Calloway, the ump, and I looked at the field as
Rich groaned and held his side.  Robbie shrugged.  "Sorry, Coach, it
slipped," she yelled.  "That's why spectators shouldn't be on the field."

   "Are you going to let her..." Rich moaned.

   Coach Calloway ignored him and turned to Mendenhall.  "If that person is
still on the field in twenty seconds, I'll take my team and go home." I
hadn't started running yet.  The coach ignored me and walked back to the
dugout.

   I smiled.  "By the way, Coach, enjoying your vacation?"

   Just before spring vacation the Lake school board had suspended Rich for
a month without pay for 'unprofessional behavior'.  I'm pretty sure that
the recall petitions circulating the district for every member of the board
had nothing to do with them finally deciding it was time to deal with Rich.

   Rich glared as Mendenhall pointed toward the gate next to the dugout.  I
tossed Robbie a salute and took off at a trot for my laps.

   Lake turned out to be a pretty good team.

   But not good enough.

   The final score was seven to three.

   Rich left after the fourth inning.  I think he came to see us get beat
and we disappointed him.  Or maybe it was Coach Calloway letting me in the
game in the third inning.

   Tami and Darlene had driven my car over to watch the game.  After the
game, Tami gave the coach about five seconds of her puppy-dog face, and he
let me ride back with them instead of on the bus.

   Robbie didn't need to use a puppy-dog face.  I think the coach is afraid
of her.

   My parents, Traci, and the Colonel had driven up, too, and we arranged
to meet them at an A&W about a mile from the school.  Dad had seen it
driving in and--according to Traci--had been reminiscing about an
old-fashioned root beer float ever since.

   I let Darlene drive to the restaurant.  Unlike a lot of guys, I didn't
have a thing about girls driving my baby.  Besides, she'd been thinking
about buying a car of her own instead of sharing Rodrigo with Robbie.  Tami
had been thinking about a car too, but I pointed out that she usually was
going places with me or just stole Mustang Sally when I wasn't looking.

   At the restaurant, after we'd ordered burgers and root beer floats for
everyone, we talked about the game.  Robbie liked the Colonel immediately
and wasn't a bit intimidated by the old Marine.  Of course Tami hadn't been
either.  He usually only played General Patton with dad or me.

   "Not a bad game, boy," the Colonel said.  "Almost as good as when I
played ball in college."

   "I didn't know you played baseball," Traci said before I could.  I'd
heard a lot about the Colonel's military career, but now it occurred to me
that I didn't know a lot about him before the Corps.

   "Yep.  In high school and college both."

   "And you were better than Tony?" I knew Trace was just trying to tweak
me, but I still decided some revenge was in her future.

   "Good enough to have some scouts checking me out.  I probably could have
gone to some minor league club and tried to work my way up, but I'd already
decided the Corps was for me."

   "Baseball's loss," Robbie said.  "Now we know where Tony gets his
talent."

   "We knew it wasn't from Dad," Traci said, earning her a hard look from
that worthy.

   "So how far you going to get this year?" the Colonel asked.

   "Last year we got to the first round of the play-offs." Robbie gave me a
glance to remind me that I was part of the reason we hadn't gone further. A
big part.  "This year, we're going all the way."

   "You've got a good start," he mused.

   "We're one and oh in league.  Six and oh overall," I agreed.

   "Keep it up, and I'll be back for the championship," he promised.

   I grinned.  "Tell you what, bring Grandma and it's a deal."

   The Colonel looked at Mom and Dad.  "You don't beat this boy nearly
enough."