Sometimes I think what happened had to happen, like a crash of two trains speeding in opposite directions on the same track. But at other times it seems as if there were places where either one of them—Josh or Monica—could have turned off. Take that day. Monica could have let Josh ride high. She could have let him have his moment.
She could have, but she didn’t.
Ms. Hurley had a challenge going in our English class. If anyone found something badly written in a newspaper or magazine, they could read it to the class and get extra points. Monica had her hand up first thing that day.
“Listen to this,” she said, her arm over the back of her chair, her eyes darting around the room. “It’s from yesterday’s paper—the sports section.” Then she read: “Don’t be surprised if his fabulous right arm leads the Vikings all the way to the Promised Land.”
Ms. Hurley’s face broke into a smile.
“What’s so funny?” Josh demanded, his face reddening.
Monica grinned. “It’s ridiculous!”
“There is nothing ridiculous about it,” Josh insisted. “We can take the state.”
Monica shook her head. “I’m not talking about baseball. I’m talking about the writing.”
“It’s a mixed metaphor,” Ms. Hurley explained, in her best teacher’s voice. “It was the Jews who were trying to get to the Promised Land, not the Vikings.”
Still Josh glared, red-faced.
“Look, Josh,” Ms. Hurley went on. “Imagine Leif Ericson wearing his little horned helmet. Now imagine him wandering around the desert with Moses, and you’ll see why the sentence is silly.”
A lot of kids smiled then, but Josh stayed stonily silent, his arms folded across his chest.
Monica noticed. She turned toward Josh. “You have heard of Moses, haven’t you? You know, the guy in the Bible. God gives him the Ten Commandments. Maybe you saw the movie.”
I’d never heard her more sarcastic.
“Are you calling me stupid?” Josh snapped.
The smile disappeared from Monica’s face. “If the shoe fits . . . ,” she said, her voice trailing off.
“That’s enough, Monica!” Ms. Hurley interjected, her voice louder than I’d heard it all year. “More than enough.”
Monica held her hands up in front of her. “Sorry,” she said. But there was still the hint of a smirk on her face.
At practice that day everyone was chattering, hill of good spirits. Everyone except Josh. He seemed a million miles away. I knew what was on his mind.
“Don’t let Monica get to you,” I said as we walked home after practice. “That’s just her way.”
“Yeah, well, we all have our ways, don’t we?” he muttered.