"Hey!" she said, and started walking my way.
Glory Martinez, I kept telling myself. This was the girl with the furious swing? The legs of steel? And--I soon noticed--her mom's sweet curves? The same girl I grew up referring to as my "stomachache waiting to happen?"
"Andy!" She called, actually jumping as she said my name and bouncing her necklace full of seashells. "I knew that was you. Play your trumpet again, okay? I love it. Makes me hit so much better."
She just started talking, like no big deal, like it had only been three minutes instead of three years.
Dude, I thought, you just played your heart out, getting all ha-cha-cha, over her? An intergalactic broom-rider?
I glanced at the row of trees off to my left. I wanted to turn, to run to them, but I was already so close. Her friend was staring at me, too.
"Oh," added Glory, pointing. "This is Kayla. I'm going to be trying out for her softball team in a few days. Kayla, Andy."
Kayla smiled. She was a pixie--freckled cheeks, short blonde hair, bouncy, athletic. Maybe even normal. I started to feel better.
"Hi, Andy," she said. "I know you. I mean, I've seen you around before."
I nodded, though I wasn't sure I recognized her. She looked younger, maybe an eighth or ninth-grader, and talked through a wide smile. "Glory says you play 'enchanting' music."
I raised a shoulder. "I guess." I bounced the trumpet against my leg, feeling an awful lot like the tongue-tied, school fool all over again.
"He does," said Glory. "Andy, I love baseball now. Seriously. In Arizona, my grandparents took me to all of the Cactus League spring training games. So now I'm this huge fan. I've been playing softball like crazy, and now my big dream is to make the U.S. National team as a pitcher and go to the Olympics."
I peered at her. The Olympics? Playing softball? Like crazy? Well, that part made sense. Here she is, rattling away, non-stop, crazy dreams. "That's cool."
"Well, first I have to make Kayla's travelball team. That's why we're here. And I knew something extraordinaire was going to happen today."
"Why?" I still couldn't believe I was talking to her.
"Because there's a baseball moon."
"A what?" I asked.
"A baseball moon. You know." She whirled and pointed at the round, white cloud of a moon just above the hills to the east. "There, see it?"
"Why do they call it that?"
"Well, because back before they had lights, they'd play baseball in the afternoon. And sometimes people saw the moon rise up at the start of a game, so they started calling it the 'baseball moon'." She shrugged. "That's what I always heard, anyways. And my grandfather says I play so well because I was born in August, under a baseball moon."
"That's a cool story," said Kayla. "I never knew any of that."
I hadn't either, but I only nodded, fully noticing that, no doubt, Glory was an athlete now. Her pudgy face was leaner, her arm and leg muscles stronger, more defined. And she was as tall as I was, at least five ten or something. I could hardly believe I was looking at the same girl. "So, you're back? I mean, you're living here now?"
She hummed and nodded, then smacked her lips. "Yup. Me and Mom. Just moved back. We've got this cute little apartment on top of OB Juan Quixote's. We were all set to move to Los Angeles, but Mom just had to stop in OB on the way. And OB Juan was just finishing up painting the place, and ta-da! Here we are."
I nodded again. "Yeah, that's cool."
"And don't worry, I know OB Juan's serves alcohol, but Mom's all sober now. She's into computers and everything." Glory leaned over to pick up a ball by her foot.
Whoa. Speaking of her mom. Those smooth, round, creamy white half shells hanging from her necklace bunched as she dipped, clacking together just like the seashell and silver necklaces her mom always wore--a soothing sound I hadn't heard, or thought about, in years.
Slowly, she rose. "You still live at the same place? That cool house on Niagara?"
"Yeah." Man, I needed to leave, but she was being so nice.
"You play really well, you know that? Are you going to play out professionally, in clubs and stuff, like your mom and dad?"
"Um, yeah--hope so." Although my whole plan was not to get stuck here in Ocean Beach playing little clubs.
"Play some more, okay?" she asked. "Show Kayla what you were doing."
I gave them both a look and then decided that, actually, it would be a relief to sink into some music, to hide behind my horn. It would definitely help my breathing. "Okay."
Glory ran back to the batter's box. Kayla started the machine.
I moved toward the dugout, so I wouldn't be too close to her or too loud. At first, I just watched and let the machine set the tempo. After a few pitches, I started to relax. On the next pitch, I strode in with a quick riff, something I hoped to build a melody on. Glory giggled and swung.
In a while, I spotted four things she always did while she got ready to hit. First, she rested the bat on her right shoulder, then she yanked it up and back. When the ball appeared, she took a small step forward with her front foot. Finally, she launched her swing. Before long, I could play all four motions. Rest, ready, step, swing. Rest, ready, step, swing.
I looked even closer, studying her for tiny things. Like how her slender fingers, in their black leather gloves, squeezed the bat really hard right before each swing, how she lifted the heel of her front foot first, before she stepped, how the muscles in her upper arms expanded before they would explode.
Sometimes--like when she kicked the dirt after a pop-up--I saw the wild nine-year-old rainbow princess who'd given me so much grief. Sometimes, as she peered at a hard line drive, I saw the serious, black-eyed, red-lipped gothy girl she was the day she left. So I played to them, too.
After a bunch of pitches, Glory turned around, smiling, wiping sweat from her face with the back of her arm. "Wow," she said.
And at that moment, I realized she was her mom. At the end of a song. Glowing. Gorgeous. And strangely magnetic. Oh, man. I had to leave. As sweet as she looked, I could not let myself get all tangled and jangled with a girl who might flip out at any moment. Not this summer, for sure.
"Glory!" Kayla called from beyond shortstop. "That's unbelievable. Your swings were so much better. And solid. Look how far you hit them!"
"I know. I could feel it." She turned to me. "I like that song, Andy! I like what it does to me. Can you keep playing?"
I began to panic. How, I wondered, can I get out of this? "Uh, well, actually..."
From behind me, out of the wild blue, I heard a voice I recognized right away.
"I like it, too! You both put on quite a show together."
Marlina Martinez, Glory's mom, had walked out of my mind--the last place I'd seen her--and onto the field. "Andrés," she said, "you must've grown a foot taller. How are you? How are your parents? I owe them a call."
"Fine, thanks. We're all fine." She had changed as much as Glory, if being thinner and looking lots prettier were the categories. Of course, I knew she'd been a teenage mother, so I wasn't too shocked at how young she looked. Still, it was hard to decide where to put my eyes. I settled on her knees.
She moved even closer. "I'm being totally honest about your music, Andrésito. You make that horn sing." We stood eye to mascara-rimmed eye. "Your grandfather must be getting really proud or really jealous by now."
"Oh," I said. "Thanks. But Grandpa passed away a couple years ago. His liver."
In one graceful swoop, Mrs. Martinez leaned over and pulled me against her bare shoulder and said, "Sweetheart, I am so sorry. I am so sorry to hear that. Gilberto was such a good man. He was so good to me."
"Yeah, thanks," I muttered with my cheek pressed against her coconut-oiled skin. "He was good to me, too."
She let go, stepping back to arm's length, and again I heard that old comforting sound as the shells clacked against the turquoise in her necklace. "We're still getting settled, but let your mom and dad know that I want to have you guys over. Okay? Real soon."
"Sure," I told her, but told myself, I might have to be slightly busy that night. A little bit of Glory can go a long way. "They're playing at OB Juan's next Thursday. You'll probably see them then."
"Yes, I heard. I'm looking forward to it. Are you playing with them?"
I laughed at that. "No. I'm not ready. I mean, it's a bar and you have to be twenty-one and everything."
She dismissed that with a wave. "Oh, not true. I was working there when I wasn't a whole lot older than you and Glory. Technically, it's still a restaurant."
"Really?"
"I should know. I'm doing all of their accounting now."
"Whoa," I said softly. I squinted at her. "But Dad wouldn't let me, I'm sure. He really doesn't want me to--well, his opinion of the music industry is not that great. And he knows I'm shooting for the big time. I think he hopes I grow out of it."
Mrs. Martinez nodded and sighed. "Ah, the big time. It is ruthless out there. Even your grandfather would tell you that, angel. But it can be totally awesome, too. Of course, your father had his own ideas."
I decided to stop there, though I knew exactly what she meant. It's not like Dad ever said he was bitter or all that unhappy settling for being a small-time, small-town musician. But considering how far his own father had gone--playing with guys like Freddie Hubbard, Carlos Santana, and Tito Puente--I knew Dad would've liked to have done that well at least.
"I'll tell you what," said Mrs. Martinez. "I'll talk to OB Juan and see what he thinks, and maybe he'll mention something to your father."
"Really? You'd do that?"
"Absolutely."
"Well, it's not just me. I have a band, actually. We're a trio."
"That's cool. Doesn't matter. He'll either say, okay, or he won't. But I'll do my best."
She paused a moment and looked straight at me the way people do when they're thinking about something smooshy or nostalgic. I was bracing myself for an embarrassing comment or a wet kiss, but she just smiled, then turned toward Glory.
"Honey, I'm going to People's Food. Want anything?"
"We're low on soy milk," said Glory. "And I love those blue corn tortillas." Then she added, "But you can cancel the order I put in this morning, okay?"
"Which was that?"
Glory took a quick, but deliberate, look at me. "You know, the one about getting a cute guy to walk into my life."
Kayla squealed and slapped a hand to her face. "Glor-ree! Don't embarrass him like that."
They all laughed, though Kayla was the only one who seemed embarrassed. After all, she was normal. Meanwhile, I was already backing away. Don't worry, I wanted to tell Kayla. Five years too late for that. Instead, I said something about having to meet some guys for pizza and I left.
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