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I try to ignore Doral-Anne and catch the ball Carly Espinosa, our catcher, throws back She gives ives n—fast ball down theinto the odd little windmill windup of softball, I let the ball fly

The pitch is wild; Ethan jerks back, but the ball bounces off his helmet

“Jesus, Lang!” shouts Doral-Anne “Is this how you always pitch?”

“Sorry, Ethan!” I call, ignoring Doral-Anne “You okay?”

“I’ently to Carly’s son, who’s eight and serves as batboy, and then jogs to first

International Foods scores three runs that inning Clearly I don’t havethe debutante princess, Doral-Anne, whose hter after Dorals, her favorite brand of cigarette

At soe to make it to first base on a weak little hit that’s fumbled by International Foods’ shortstop Finally

“Yay, Aunt Wucy!” calls lance over, then start Fred Busey Crikey, I’d forgotten all about him I wave He waves back, then smoothes his hand over his paint-enhanced hair Parker says so, and they chuckle

“Give ’em hell, Lucy!” my friend shouts

“Go Bunny’s!” Fred seconds

Though I’m not one hundred percent sure I want it publicly known that the o is still somewhat soothed I contemplate the distance to second base Take a subtle step in that direction Another inch Another After all, I’ve been known to steal a base or (aheentlemen! And besides, that would really piss off dear Doral-Anne, who’s pitching far too well If we’re going to have a chance, I si position

Doral-Anne glances at s, then decides I’oes into her windup, and I’m off My helmet flies off as I sprint toward second, each step a joy, the thrill of stealing electrifying s Ethan doesn’t even see love comes down

“Out!” says Christopher “Sorry, Luce”

“Excuseup, my foot securely on base

“You’re out,” he says

“I am?” Openrins that elvish sht there

“You weren’t even close,” he says “Buddy” He winks

“Can we keep playing, or is the princess going to stay there forever?” Doral-Anne calls

With no other option, still shocked that I was, for the first tiout

Bunny’s loses, 9-2 Worse, Ethan offers to buy drinks for both sides, so everyone will be heading to Lenny’s for a postgame analysis

“Tough loss,” Fred Busey says, panting a bit with the effort of walking the ten yards or so from the bleachers

“You’re tellinga smile Truthfully I’m stunned at how badly I played Three measly strikeouts On base only once, and that because of an error And caught stealing…jeepers

Most of those heading for the bar do it logically…by cutting through Ellington Park Which would h the ce to do

“Shall we grab a drink?” asks Fred

“Sure,” I say I can have a drink with Fred He’s a nice guy Besides, Ethan’s just chitchattering away to Doral-Anne And you knohat else? I’h the ce a dope when it corave as a goodshould The Mirabellis are oodbye party is just around the corner, and the very thought causes et over this issue of h the cemetery But that doesn’t mean I have to walk fast, either

Indeed, everyone else on the team trickles past us Fred can’t move too quickly, and that’s fine with e I try to follow Fred’s tale of his recent divorce, his eight-year-old daughter, but the ce maw of a shark I make the appropriate noises, but my heart starts to clatter as we approach the end of the park…and the entrance to the cemetery

We’re getting closer I’m a little out of breath And why can’t I hear Fred? Is he still talking? Lips are still …A buzz fills my ears, and my hands are slick with sweat Up ahead, well into the cemetery, I can see Ethan’s back, Mirabelli over a nu, unaware of my distress If only he’d turn, see me, help et Ethan and Doral-Anne disappear around the bend

“Um…Fred?” I say, and my voice cracks We’re just outside the stone pillars now

“Yeah?” He looks up at ether

“I…can we…uh air, oing to faint

“Are you okay? Want to sit down?” Fred, also panting though not for the say hand and leadshippo Dropping my head between my knees, I try to relax, try to let the breeze push air into onna be all right

“Lucy? Should I call so my shoulder

I shaketide, bit by bit I don’t have to go in the cemetery No one will know Nice Fred won’t mind, I can already tell

“My husband’s buried in there,” I whisper, and oh, it sounds so sad Tears spring to my eyes, and I scrub thes without crying by now

“I’m so sorry,” Fred murmurs

“Maybe we can just go around?” I ask “I’m sorry, I know it doesn’t make sense—”

“It doesn’t have to,” Fred says “Of course we can go around Whenever you’re ready”

And so, feeling like an ass, I get up and take twenty et to Lenny’s Pub