"No, Pam, you gotta hold it like this. You gotta put your fingers over the laces. See?"
Pam's arms are swinging at her sides, and she's slumped over, cut offs and a pilling, faded grey halter top, hair coming out of its bun, little loose wisps sticking to her neck in the heat. She's giving him that look, the disbelieving, open-mouthed stare, like when he failed the first six weeks of trig and didn't even care, or said Ace Ventura was his favorite movie. Roy can tell she doesn't care, and it really is hot as hell outside, but dammit, this is important.
"Pam," and he tries to keep his voice soft, "knowing how to throw a spiral is important. It's... it's an essential life skill. It's right after integrity," and he knew that'd make her laugh. In homeroom in eighth grade they had to memorize the "life skills," all fifteen of them, and recite them every day. The way Pam rolled her eyes at Jamie, her best friend, while keeping her voice perfectly calm and innocent as she said them aloud was the first time Roy thought there might be more to her than mousy hair and good grades and doodles.
"OK, fine," she says, and that is a victory. Roy decided that this summer he was going to teach Pam everything she needed to know. They're going to be seniors in the fall, and he wants them to rule the school. He's going to be captain of the basketball team, and he's pretty sure he'll win Homecoming King. Pam's not going to be Queen or anything, but still. She'll like it, like posing for pictures with him, in front of that cheesy background in the corner of the gym, plastic crown tilted on his head. He'd die if anyone knew, but he's been practicing his finger guns for the occasion. Then he'll put the crown on her head, sneak a kiss, and there'll be this great picture of her laughing, holding the crown to her head with one hand while her other arm is around Roy, and he'll be kissing her cheek. Pam always looks so beautiful when she laughs. His mom will frame it and put it on the mantle, and Pam can take a framed copy to college with her.
So this summer, he just wants to show Pam some stuff. She's taught him some neat stuff -- he'd never watch The X-Files if it weren't for her, and it's actually pretty cool. She drew him a really great picture, a sketch of him sleeping, and Roy knows it's weird to like a picture of yourself so much but he does. He looks at it almost every day. So he just wants to give her the things he likes, the way she did for him. She's already mastered the free throw -- pretty good at it, actually -- but her jump shot is miserable and even Roy admits it's never going to get better. She liked the batting cages, even though she sucks, well enough they've gone like three times. She still doesn't like Ace Ventura or Beavis and Butthead, but they don't have to like all the same things, right? Nobody's perfect.
But the spiral, the spiral is key. Roy wants Pam to be the sort of girlfriend all the other guys are jealous of, and if Pam could throw a perfect spiral she'd be that girl. Not many girls can, and a girl who's always up for a game of flag football is really hot.
It's not that Pam's not hot now, 'cause she is. And Roy kinda likes knowing he gets her when his friends sometimes wonder why he's dating her, likes that he's smarter, to see how awesome Pam is. But a couple months ago, one day in the locker room, Eric told him, "You know, Pam's actually really funny. She's pretty cool, dude," and Roy couldn't stop grinning all day.
"So," he says, standing behind Pam, guiding her hand into place on the football. "You want to put your fingers in between the laces, like this, see?"
"How does that make a difference?" She tilts her head to look up at him, squints at the sun.
"It just... it just does. I don't know why."
She obligingly grips the football like he's showing her. "Now what?"
"OK," Roy grins. "Tilt your arm like this," and he mimes the motion for her, corrects her as she tries it. "OK, good. Now, when you throw, you throw like this" -- he demonstrates -- "and follow through. It's really important to follow through."
Pam tries to throw the ball. It hits the ground ten feet in front of her. She turns to look at Roy. There are beads of sweat on her upper lip and she's looking a little disappointed, but not really.
"Pitiful," he tells her, stepping out to retrieve it. "You gotta follow through. Look, like this," and Roy can't help but admire his own throw, the satisfying thud it makes when it lands neatly in the Greens' yard four houses down.
"You have to go get that," Pam says, smirking. Roy jogs off and Pam yells, "Step it up, son!" soundng just like his coach. Roy shakes his head, but he picks up his pace.
Pam's next few tries aren't any better. None make it out of Roy's yard.
"I keep telling you, you gotta follow through," Roy repeats for what feels like the millionth time. "It's not enough to throw it right, you have to keep going all the way through even after you let go of the ball."
"How can that possibly make a difference?" Pam snaps. Roy can tell she's tired of this, and hot, but he just wants to show her this one thing. A perfect spiral is a lifelong skill.
"Because," he repeats, and he wishes he'd paid more attention in physics, 'cause it seems like that's where the answer is. "Your body knows if you're not really trying. You have to act like you're not going to let go right in the middle -- you can't half ass it, Pam," and Roy knows he's desperate when he starts quoting his dad.
Pam knows, so she smiles up at him, and says, "Really, it's that important?"
"Really."
"OK." Her eyes narrow, and Roy knows she has decided she's going to do this. He loves that look. She grips the football just right, and her arm tilts back, just like he told her, and right when she's supposed to, she lets go. She follows through.
Pam throws a really, really beautiful spiral, and Roy's heart swells with pride. They stand, silent, watching it arc up into the sky and then come back down. It comes down five houses down, right through Mrs. Patterson's front window.
"Oh shit!" Pam says, hands flying up to cover her mouth.
"Good job, QB," Roy says, and it's not funny -- it's expensive to replace windows, and Mrs. Patterson's a bitch -- but it is. They look at each other and both start laughing, and they collapse on the grass of Roy's front yard, and Pam has tears streaming down her face, and Roy's stomach hurts.
"Hey," Roy says, grabbing for Pam's hand once he feels like he can breathe again. "I love you."
Pam's smile is radiant. "I love you too," she says, pushing his baseball cap back so she can kiss him. "Thanks for showing me how to throw that spiral thing."
It's really too hot, but Pam settles herself on Roy, head on his chest, leg thrown across his legs, and Roy puts one arm around her and the other behind his head, and together they watch the sun set.
Story Notes:
Disclaimer: None of this belongs to me.
Written for Nothing Hip on LJ; this week's song was "Slide" by the Goo Goo Dolls. The Life Skills are, unfortunately, all too real -- I couldn't find the exact ones I had to memorize in sixth grade online, but these come the closest. In the ones I had learn, integrity came first.
sundancekid is the author of 12 other stories.
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