She was sitting alone in her college apartment. The RA rang the doorbell. She opened it.

Is anyone else in? She didnt know. She lost track of time. She fell asleep. She was in the middle of something. She didnt care to notice. I think Annas here. Let me check Oh God, let her be here. Let her not be the only one in this apartment. She knocked on Annas door and opened it. Anna? No Anna. Oh God, no. For them to abandon her like this, where did they all go? She walks back to the RA who was holding a clipboard. Am I in trouble? It was them, I swear. They arent here now. Its not a coincidence, theyve run, theyve hidden, somewhere, under these pillows? In the shower? Maybe I should go back and check Annas room. Maybe she was there, and I just didnt see her. Its just me she smiles. Why was she smiling? Was she smiling? Was it coming off fake? She hates fake people. But its a stranger, an RA, how could she possibly smile convincingly? Her lips faltered like wet paint falling off a canvas exposing the truth underneath. The starch white emptiness. Well, thats alright. I just.. she flips through papers. Oh God. I have this thing I have to do at every apartment Im RAing Thank God. I have to come up with an interesting fact for all the room mates, so since youre here, I guess, tell me something interesting about yourself? Interesting. Interesting. Why do people ask this question? Why do they deserve to know? She could come up with an embarrassing story. There were so many of those. Anything she said could be misinterpreted. Once I got drunk with friends and Youre a drunk. Once I met this guy and Youre a slut. Once I wanted to kill my RA for asking me stupid questions You freak, you freak, that is not interesting. That is weird. Youre goin g to Hell, you sadistic, sick psycho bitch. Interesting, what does that even mean? Can I hear it in a sentence? Why dont you tell me something interesting? What gives you the right? Interesting. Not boring. Everything is boring. Everything that isnt boring is illegal. Shes an RA, for Gods sake. What does she know about interesting. Interesting people dont need to ask about interesting things. I went to high school with one of the girls that lives here. Here in this apartment? Yes, here. In this apartment. Whats her name? Ally. Oh. Thats cool. What about yourself? Whats interesting about you? Is that not interesting for you? Interesting? Hmmmmmno. I dont know. One time she killed her softball coach. Literally. She hit the ball, it was a tie game, 2 outs, no one on base, those situations you read about in the newspaper, those situations that define redemption and against all odds. Anyways, she missed the first ball. It was during a thunderstorm. The coach said, just go out there, youll be okay. But the bat is aluminum she said, and he said, soldiers went out in the trenches during thunderstorms carrying AKs. Its patriotic. Baseball, thats American. But Im playing softball, she said. He said just go out there and get us a run. He smiled at her like she was a moron. She looked back at the people in the stands. Not many people she knew. Mostly old people. Her dad was there. He just got back from Hopkins. He had an appointment up there. He went to work that day, left early, went to Hopkins, and now he was here. Just for her. He wouldnt care if they lost or won. He wouldnt care if she was the one to win it all. He just wanted to be there. This one girl who had finished her game earlier was there, too. She knew the girl, she was in her class, popular, better, superior, athletic, perfect teeth, etc. Come on Karen! She called. You got this girl! She said it in a way that made her smile. Is she really rooting

for me? She wants me to win? She dug her feet into the dirt. The ball rolled to the plate. Terrible pitch. She swung anyways. Nerves were getting to her. The rain was almost horizontal. The lights blazed on the field. The wind was pushing the rain towards her and the light intensified it. She couldnt see anything, she could only see the rain and she felt it pelting against her helmet. Hundreds of mini-soft-balls coming towards her. Who was she to know the difference? Just walk me, she thought, and let someone else do this. She was no redeemer. She was no hero. Are you golfing? The coach said. No, she whispered back, Im batting. Her face was red. She could bash his skull in with that bat. Old-man-brains everywhere. She tightened her grip on it. Its alright, girl, you got this. Keep your eye on the ball. Okay, she said, okay. She stared at the ball intently. Even from the wind up. Totally unnecessary, she thought to herself. The ball was far from the plate. She didnt swing. Youre gonna have to try harder, Im no fool. Im no fool. I see you. The pitcher sucked. The girl who was meant to be pitcher choked on her own vomit the day before. She wanted to look good for the game. Now she looks good for no one but those scummy hospital nurses and their purple gloves. Always sanitary. Always clean. Day in, day out. Thats it Karen, thats it! From that point on she couldnt hear anything. The crowd lost it. The thunder was rolling, no longer in the distance but right above her. She was gonna die on this field. She was gonna die with a 1-1 pitch. The next pitch. She swung way too early. She pulled her bat up to get back in stance and the ball hadnt even crossed the plate yet. The ball was thrown so wildly it hit the tip of her bat while she was getting back in stance. What are you swinging at? There was no ball there. She looked around after feeling the vibration of the bat. Was it lightning? She was dead. People kept screaming. For Gods sake, Im dead. Let me go in peace now. She heard the crowd roar on her side. The other side remained quiet, not hinting at anything. RUN! her coach screamed. He was sixty years old or maybe older. She had a habit of calling anyone with white hair sixty or older. She looked at the umpire. Strike? Ball? Heaven? Hell? For some reason she backed from the plate and looked around. The catcher was scrambling for something. A ball. Oh God. Does this count? Can I go to first? Am I alive? She looked back at her coach. He was screaming. Sweating. Red. Miserable. He threw his hat on the ground. It was a red hat, as red as his face, even though the team color was blue. He jumped on the hat, screaming, his white old man hairs flowing in the gusty wind. This game is too important. I am not qualified for this. This old man. Why wont he stop? She looked at the popular girl. She had her freshly painted fingers wrapped around on the cage. She never painted her nails. At least not then. Why hadnt she? Karen! Karen! She called. She pointed to first. Karen dropped her bat. Looked at the catcher and kicked up wet sand over the ball. She ran to first, knowing she wouldnt make it in time. But she looked so cute in that uniform. After this game, she was gonna go to the ice cream place and get some ice cream wearing it. She was gonna wear it to every Halloween party for the rest of her life. The boys would die. They would see it, and say, that girl is so smart in school, and shes an athlete too? Thats a legit jersey, not one you buy at the store, one that is given to you. Shes on a team and she is amazing. She would take pictures and post them online and everyone would know. She knew she wouldnt make it to first before that God-forsaken ball but she ran anyways. The catcher dropped the ball, it was slippery in the mud and it took her a few seconds to find it. She was a good catcher. Competitive. But even the most competitive people could drop soaking wet balls in the mud. She threw that ball to first like it was a grenade. Boom. Fire in the hole. Youre out. End of game. You lose. When she walked towards the dug-out she crossed by the catcher. You should have been a pitcher, she said and smiled. When the game was over, and her team had lost, she didnt waste time with handshakes. It was the last game of the season because of her. She didnt want to see these girls again. Her team mates would hate her and she

would never speak to any of them again. Oh freaking well. They should have known better than to put her against all that pressure. She didnt want to see the other teams smiling faces as they thanked her for a good game. Good job, they would say, and really mean it too, she couldnt have been worse if she was paid off by those bitches. She didnt want to see that crazy old man again. She was just a kid. This wasnt the World Series. This wasnt even baseball, for Gods sake. She was just a girl. Her family harassed her. Her brother looked all over for a hat in the garage. He found one and threw it on the ground in the kitchen and said Run, Karen, run! Everybody had a good laugh. Her best friend shopped at Abercrombie & Fitch. They actually had a shirt that said Run, Karen, run! in blue letters. The whole world was in on it. Her brother, her mother, they said, why cant she be more competitive. Why cant she be perfect, if it had been anyone else, they would say. Maybe they wouldnt say, maybe they would only think, what difference did it make, she already knew. They would say, that poor old man. That man was crazy, she said, crazy. She burnt the jersey. The school had a bonfire. Other kids were burning books. The books brought back such bad memories. She sold her books. She couldnt do anything with that jersey. She didnt want to hang it on the wall. She didnt want to see it ever again. She never wanted to see that old man again, either. That crazy old man. A year later she went to watch her boyfriend play baseball in the play-offs. She hadnt thought of her play-off debut and seeing him play did not awaken any embarrassing memories. She watched him get his picture before the game. He was a pitcher. The ace. The best. Every girl loved him. He could have any of them, all of them, but he chose her. She was the best. She might not have won at sports but she won at this. You look cute she said, when he posed with the bat relaxed behind his back. Thanks he said and smiled away from the camera. Guess what? He said, striking conversation in between shots. When the photographer told him he would take a picture, he paused and looked back and smiled quickly. He smiled like it was his job to look good. He was good at his job. He was good at baseball. He was good at making her happy. He was good at everything. What? My dad told me this crazy story about one of his friends. He used to coach and this time last year, he was at a play-off game and one of the players on his team sucked so bad, he had a heart attack. The girl hit the ball and didnt even run to first. Can you believe that? Anyway, the girl ran off the field, left her bat and everything got in the car with her family and took off. They carted the guy off in an ambulance and thats the last anyone saw him. He died in the hospital. Can you imagine that? She hung her head in shame. He died. She killed him. She was so bad at softball, she killed a man. Could it really be true? She didnt ask about him. Didnt look in the obituaries. Everyone dies. Some die in stupid ways. This man was stupid. He was crazy. He had it coming. We all do. Why do you date me? He stepped away from the white line taped to the ground. His picture time was over. Because youre beautiful. And quirky. And perfect. And no ones like that. He put his hand under her chin. Hey now, whats a matter? It shoulda been a foul ball It barely went over the line. What? That girl was me You kiddin me? You dont play softball. He laughed. Not any more. I wonder why. She walked off and he wrapped his arms around her waist. I dont care, he said. Its probably just bullshit anyways. People exaggerate. The relationship fell to pieces after that. She didnt blame it on that. It was purely superficial. He was a talented

athlete and she just couldnt deal with that. He only liked the way she looked anyways. And her smile. And her personality. Thats all he liked. He didnt know everything. She missed him though. He was the only thing that made her special. I guess, she says, an interesting thing about me is my house got struck by lightning. Your house? the RA replies, with a look of terror. What happened? I dont know, my family was on vacation we came home and there were all these holes in the sidea the house and in the ground. We thought they were moles or something, but it didnt make sense. When we looked around all the photo frames had fallen. We turned the TV on and there were these purple and blue fuzz marks, like someone stuck magnets to the TV. My theory was aliens. Yea. Aliens because its what Im scared of most. My mom said gangsters, because she was mugged by one and it left a scar on her face. My dad said he didnt know. He really didnt know, but he always knew everything. Our neighbors came in and told us the whole thing. My dreams were crushed, I didnt want to know. Lightning doesnt strike the same place twice. Well youre lucky, the RA replies. I guess. It didnt catch on fire? What? The house? No it didnt. Thank goodness. No. No. I dont know much about houses catching on fire. My uncle died in a fire though. He didnt die from the fire, he died from the smoke. Thats what gets you. Everyone knows that. He was bi-polar though. He wanted to die. He hated how he acted. Sometimes he was nice, he was always nice around me. Sometimes he was mean, my mom sheltered me from that. I didnt even know he was bi-polar. After he died I was sad. Other people were too, of course, but not like me. I bawled my eyes out. He was such a nice guy. Too damn nice. My mom told me years later about how, when she was just a kid, he threw her doll downstairs breaking it. He laughed and spit on it. She cried her eyes out. I swear sometimes I think she cried more for that doll than her brother. But how could she feel bad. She was just a kid. He was a monster. No one knew about his problem until after they formed their opinions. You cant change that. Hes always gonna be a great guy, to me. He just couldnt take those pills. They made him a zombie. I wouldnt want that. I wouldnt do it, either. I dont know what its like. But I think it would be like being sick. Eating but not tasting, touching, but not feeling. Thats not living. His whole family hated him. They wanted him to die. They asked for it. They didnt feel bad when it happened. He lived in pain, hurting everyone he loved. The fireman tried to save him. Little did he know my uncle wasnt even a man. Not a normal man anyway. He was upstairs sleeping. He knew what was happening. He just couldnt come up with a reason to get out of bed. He just stayed there. I get that way sometimes. Sometimes Im really hungry, but too lazy to get up and make some dinner. Anyways I see how he could do it. Sometimes I sit around waiting for dinner to come to me. I guess thats what he thought. He was tired of trying to get up and find things so he just waited for the flames to find him. They got him out though, I mean, he didnt get burnt to a crisp or anything. He just suffocated and that was it. He left a nice body. A nice, normal man body. A body the way it should be. But I dont know much about fires in houses. Or lightning striking the same place twice. I know all about embarrassing stories. Well, hey. Ill let you know when my room-mates get back, if you wanna speak with them. Oh no, thats okay. I got what I need. Okay. Great. Its really nice weather, isnt it? I dont get too excited about the weather. And I hate small-talk, I add, to myself.

Its not usual here. Usually, its wet and rainy and flooding and windy and stormy. Thunderstorms? Youre not afraid of the lightning are ya? No. Not at all. I like to watch it from the comfort of my home. Youll fit in perfectly here. The RA walked away, not understanding at all.