Karen Day - No Cream Puffs

For my parents, Jim and Nancy
And for Billie Jean King

T his isn't what we usually do.

If we have time after lunch, we shoot baskets with the boys in the gym. Today we're lined up in front of the mirror in the girls' bathroom.

I stand to the side and twist my mood ring around and around my finger. My mess of curly blond hair is a disaster compared to the new feathered style everyone else has. This is Plushy Pink. Casey Cunningham pulls a tube of lip gloss out of her purse and opens it. The sweet smell of cotton candy fills the bathroom. She rolls it onto her lips. It's new.

She rolls it onto Gina's lips and then reaches for Sara, who stands next to me, holding her new purse with both hands. I'm next.

Casey snaps the cap on the lip gloss and puts it back in her purse. I feel the tops of my ears burn; she left me out on purpose. I glance at Sara, but she won't look at me.

You smell like a circus, I blurt. Their lips sparkle under the lights. Could my lips look like that, too?

I'm sorry, Madison. Casey looks at me, eyes wide. I didn't think baseball players wore lip gloss.

I glare at Sara, who drops her eyes. She promised not to tell anyone. She knows I'm kind of scared, what a big deal this might be. It's 1980. Here in Michigan girls don't play league baseball with the boys.

Sara and I have been best friends since second grade, and this is the very first time she's ever told a secret of mine. How could she?

Are you really going to sign up? Gina asks. Be the only girl?

Everyone looks at me except Sara. She turns the stone on her matching mood ring around into her palm so I can't see the color. We'll never take them off, she said to me last fall when we bought them at the mall. Is there a color for guilt?

I don't know. What do they think about this? What should I say?

I wouldn't know the first thing about playing baseball, Casey says.

I watch how she leans into Sara and puts her hand on Gina's arm. Casey's nose is tiny, her eyes big and brown. She's so cute, and you just want to be with her, be singled out by her. That's how I felt, anyway, until I realized how mean she is.

Sara's cheeks are pink. Still she won't look at me.

What to do? Get out.

I run into the hall and into the cafeteria. I stand against the wall, breathing in and out, and stare at my feet. I'm wearing what we always wear, Tretorn tennis shoes, stained with dirt, full of holes, shredded at the tongue. No socks. Jeans and a T-shirt. Today Sara showed up in sandals and carrying a purse.

When I hear voices, I look up. Billy Evans sits with the other sixth-grade boys at a nearby table. He's pointing at me, snickering. I glare back. Is he making fun of me again?

One day last week Billy and I were the final two playing Horse in the gym. Everyone was watching and I'd just sunk a ten-foot jump shot when the bell rang. He still had time for one last shot, but he turned to go.

Come on, Billy, we can finish this. I wanted to win. Billy and I were just about even, and it was fun playing against him.

Chicken! a boy on the sideline yelled at him. Everybody laughed.

Billy looked at the boys. Then he pointed at my chest. How can you play with your boobs in the way?

Everyone was silent. I looked down at my T-shirt and saw how my breasts poked out. I wanted to melt into the gym floor.

They all started snickering. I ran from the gym.

Now I watch Billy's big mouth move up and down, and heat rises up through my back and into my head. What if he says something about my chest again?

Shut up, Billy, you big jerk! I yell so loudly that kids turn to look.

What? Now he's in front of me. He's the only boy in sixth grade as tall as me, and we glare, eye to eye.

You heard me! Billy is a jerk and everyone knows it.

So what are you gonna do about it, tomboy?

Don't call me that! My heart is pounding; people crowd around us. Out of the corner of my eye I see Sara, Gina and Casey.

You gonna beat me up? He pushes closer.

Shut up!

Everyone laughs. Billy turns and smirks at his friends.

My head grows hotter. Before I know what I'm doing, I punch him, my fist catching the side of his cheekbone. My fingers throb as if they've been slammed in a car door. I look at Sara and the girls.

Then I fall backward. When I hit the floor, it all catches up with me. Billy has punched me, and my nose and cheek explode in stinging, hot pain, worse than my hand. I burst into tears.

Billy stands over me, his fists raised. Then he drops his arms. Something warm flows over my lips and chin.

Gross! Casey says.

I wipe my palm across my face. Blood covers my hand; I lick it off my lips and stand. My head throbs and I see little white bursts all around me. I have to get out of here. I turn to my friends.

Sara's mouth hangs open. Casey pulls her arm and Sara hesitates but then takes a step back with the others. I feel as if I've been hit again, this time much harder. Is Sara going to just leave me here? Abandon me? How could she? This is way worse than telling Casey about baseball.

This is way worse than anything she could ever, ever do!

Thanks a lot, Sara. I take off my mood ring and throw it at her.

Then a cold, wet towel is shoved under my nose and my head is pushed forward. Someone holds my arm and leads me away. I twist my head to see Mrs. Post, my gym teacher and volleyball coach.

She guides me around the corner and into her office. I crawl onto her couch and turn over.

Let's take a look. She lifts the blood-soaked towel off my nose. For God's sake, Madison, what were you doing fighting with him?

He's such a jerk. Everyone watched me hit Billy and saw how much harder and faster his fist came back. I shouldn't have looked away. Is everyone laughing now? This will spread like crazy through school.

I don't think your nose is broken. Mrs. Post sighs. But this is completely unacceptable, Madison. A boy shouldn't hit a girl, ever, no matter what!

I nod, then stop. Does she mean that a boy shouldn't hit a girl but a girl can hit a boy? That doesn't seem right.

You're lucky I was the lunch monitor. I wouldn't want my star volleyball player to end up in the principal's office.

She sighs again and smiles. I relax. Mrs. Post is great. She's young and wears sneakers and T-shirts. She can be spastic and silly. Like the time Sara and I danced on her desk after volleyball practice. Instead of getting angry, Mrs. Post climbed up to dance with us.

However, she says, I should find out what happened to Billy. I guess you can't get suspended, since this is the last day of school. Stay here. No goofing around. You don't want your nose to start bleeding again.

My star volleyball player. I smile. Last fall our team went undefeated. Even though I had the most kills and the most points on my serve, she's never called me a star before.

The season was so much fun. Sara, Gina, the girls and Mrs. Post. It was our first time playing volleyball and I picked it up easily.

Now I squeeze my eyes shut. Sara told me last week that she might not play next year. And Gina's already decided she won't.

I know why. Casey Cunningham doesn't think it's cool. And Casey doesn't think I'm cool, either.

I sit up. My hand and nose are still throbbing. Will I have a black eye? At least I wore a dark shirt that doesn't show the blood. All my T-shirts are too tight now, and it would have been awful lying on the floor, blood all over my chest. I glance at the clock. One more hour until school is over for the summer.