Robi peers at me, at Chrissy, at Alex. His grin has shrunk to a hesitant smile.
I don’t want to do that to Alex. I know what his brother means to him. I can ride with them for one more stop.
I take Chrissy’s fingers. I squeeze her hand. “I’m fine. I’ll see you at class.”
She doesn’t move. You sure? her expression says.
“Yes, thank you.” I give her my stage smile, the one that shows each person in the audience, even the ones in the very back row, that I’m both overjoyed and confident.
Chrissy nods at me, glares at Alex, and marches out the door.
When the train starts up again, I lean forward. “Hi,” I say to Robi.
Alex jumps back when I stand. He moves down another seat length as I come over, turning the dirt-caked part of him away from me.
“I’m Isa.” I offer my hand to Robi.
Robi rips off his cap. He takes my hand and gives it a shake. “I’m Robi.” He’s beaming again.
“That’s what I figured.” I glance at Alex. He’s still frowning at the floor. Is he angry that I stayed? Should I have gotten off with Chrissy?
“We were in Central Park, playing baseball. That’s why we’re so dirty.” Robi’s fingers bend the brim of the hat down and up, down and up.
“I figured that out too.” I bend down to whisper. “Your uniforms gave you away.”
Robi drops the cap in his lap. He holds up his hands, his eyes rounding. “Today was a special exhibition game. Each school got to send two players. Haeres sent Alex even though he’s new and only a junior. It’s because he’s their best.”
So Alex got in to Haeres. “That’s wonderful,” I say, and I mean it. “You must be very proud.” Alex stiffens when I turn to him. His throat works as if he’s swallowing down words.
“Oh, I am proud of him. And Papi is too. He’s still there, helping. The younger kids, like me, are playing. But I’m not.” Robi looks at his feet. “Alex is taking me home.”
Alex’s eyes slide almost helplessly to mine. His gaze slips away when Robi starts talking again.
“Hey, how do you know my brother?” Robi asks, as if suddenly putting it together.
“We’re friends.”
Alex looks up when I say that. I can still use that word, can’t I? He has every reason to hate me. But I don’t think I could stand it if he did.
“We actually met on the subway,” I tell Robi.
Robi nods. He’s looking from Alex to me. “That’s so cool! Hey, Alex is taking me to the park near our house. Sunset Park. Do you know it?”
“I’ve heard of it. I bet it’s beautiful.”
“It’s OK. There are some actual baseball fields near our house too, but they’re probably being used by real teams now. So we’re going to the park. Do you play baseball?”
“No. I don’t really know how.” I laugh at the face Robi makes. He adores Alex. It reminds me of how I was with Merrit at that age.
“Well, if you want to learn, Alex is the one to teach you.” Robi’s eyes get really big again. “Oh, you can come with us now! She can, right, Alex?”
Alex is watching me. His brow crumples. His small smile is so sad, I have to look away.
What happened to us? What did I do when I walked away?
“I wish I could,” I tell Robi. “But I have a class. In fact, this is my stop.” I look up at an ad for helping the homeless. I blink and blink until my eyes clear.
The train wails as it pulls into Sixty-Sixth Street.
“Oh man!” Robi slaps his leg. “Next time, then?” He scrabbles his cap back on.
“Sure. Next time,” I manage to tell him.
“Bye, Isa!” Robi cries out as I bridge the gap between the train and the platform.
“Bye, Robi. It was nice to meet you,” I call back. “Bye, Alex,” I whisper to myself.
SATURDAY, SEPTEMBER 30
ALEX
We come up out of the subway. Afternoon sun glints off rusted rooftops. Wind blows but the yellow and orange leaves hold on tight.
We head for the park. Robi wants to carry the bag. I tell him it’s too heavy. He asks why I haven’t noticed how much he’s grown over the summer. Fine, I say. Half a block later, I shoulder the bag again.
Some kids are playing football on the field. Another two throw a Frisbee back and forth. I lead Robi to the far corner, toward the boulder he liked to climb when he was smaller. There’s enough room for us and more.
I dig out a bat Robi’s size and hand it to him.
Out of nowhere he says, “Isa’s really pretty. I think she’s prettier than Avery Santana.”
“Avery Santana?” I turn to look for his glove.
“The girl who lives next door. You’ve never seen her?”
The girl who was playing catch with her dad. “I’ve seen her.” I take out two balls and put them next to the bag. Ten-year-old me would have thought Avery was cute. But she’s nowhere near Isa’s league. Even at ten, I bet, Isa was beautiful.
“So why was she looking at you like that?” Robi’s swinging the bat. His grip is wrong.
I find Robi’s mitt. I take hold of the bat. I don’t let it go until Robi’s moved his hands all the way down the handle. “Who?”
“Isa. You didn’t see?”
I take a breath. I slide on my glove and pick up a ball.
“It’s like she wanted to look at you. But instead of just facing you and saying hi, all she did was these quick looks from the side. It was kinda like how you were looking at her.” Robi’s stopped swinging. “And her sweatshirt. Didn’t you used to have one like that?” He’s waiting for my answer.
I roll my head, stretching my neck. I reach up and massage a pinched muscle. “Isa and I . . . She used to be my girlfriend.” There’s no harm in telling him that.
Robi’s bat tips to the ground. “Shut up,” Robi says. “When?”
“Last spring.”
“What did you do?” he demands. “Why isn’t she still your girlfriend?”
I squat and riffle through the bag. I don’t need anything else out of here. I just don’t want to see Robi’s face. “I didn’t do anything. Except walk away.” What else am I going to say? I still don’t know what I did wrong. And I’m not going to tell him she walked away from me. If Papi heard that? Coño. I’d never live it down. He’d be saying Te lo dije for the rest of my life.
Robi punches my arm as I stand. “What did you do that for? She’s so nice. Nicer than Kiara. Kiara never talks to me.”
I rub my shoulder and show my teeth, pretending Robi’s fist hurt. I don’t tell him that Kiara’s different. That she’s not really my girlfriend. I don’t think he’d understand. “Isa is nice. But it wasn’t going to work. Her parents didn’t like me.” This is truth.
“How could they not like you? Are they blind and deaf or something?”
I smile at his joke. “I don’t know. I only ever met them once. And not for very long.”
“Then how do you know they didn’t like you? How did they know they didn’t like you?” Robi’s voice rises like it does when a game is close and we’re in the last innings.