Garcia, Kyla: Andy's voice sounds like it's rolling its eyes. "I know, I know" She makes a mouth puppet with her hand, trying to imitate my voice. "Kids with long arms should be able to wear shorts to their wrists instead of fingertips. It shouldn't be a girl's responsibility to worry about how our clothing might distract boys." She moves her hand puppet to make its mouth extra wide. "And there should be a separate bubble under race for people of Chinacan or Mexicanese descent." "Well, there should be!" I say. "You have a bubble for Black. Why should I have to choose one bubble or other? Why should anyone?"

Most of my causes don't get further than a strongly worded letter to the principal. Andy shrugs. "But that's not what I'm talking about," I go on, biting my lower lip. Co-ed PE is the one subject I should dominate. With everything but jump rope in the second grade, I've been on the boys' team. "Did you notice the TV? What if we have to learn some antique sport like the one with mini tennis rackets and the plastic snow-cone thing?"

"It's called a shuttlecock," Andy giggles and her dark curls bob up and down.

"Very funny, Andy. I really need this A,"

"I know you do. And that really is what it's called," she replies. "Come on. You're the best in this class. You know, you can handle anything. You'll be pitching cans of corn or whatever you call it to Fu Li in no time.

I've already filled Andy in on my uncle's promise. If I get straight As, my Uncle Hector who works for the Mariners, is taking me to meet Fu Li Hernandez, the first Asian/Latino pitcher in the major leagues. If Fu Li can be the first Chinacan guy to pitch in the majors, maybe I can be the first Mexicanese girl to throw a no-hitter.

Did I mention that baseball is life?

I've worked hard to get back on track and have As in the rest of my classes. I bite on the inside of my cheek, thinking of Coach Solden and some new game, risking my chance to meet Fu Li. Besides making it to the majors someday, I don't think I've ever wanted something so bad in my life.

Coach Solden in returns to the locker room and flicks the fluorescent lights on and off. The last few stragglers jump into line. She lifts the whistle dangling down her chest and blows for short blasts, like she's leading an army troop out into battle.

Her shorts are riding up her butt more than mine, but she doesn't seem to care. She marches us into the gym. Where a group of 20 boys are already waiting.

My friend Niles waves at me from the line. I wave back and smile, but then he holds up his hand and mimics flipping on Doctor Who's Sonic Screwdriver, our signal for "we got to talk" and it's a the universe is in danger sort of emergency.

We have a half-second before class starts, so I point toward a spot in between the boys and girls that somewhat blocked from Coach's sight, and we break out a formation to meet up.

Samantha snicker-snorts and points at us.

"Hey, Lupe," Niles says letting out a breath.

I huddle up next to him for privacy. "What's up?"

A few of Samantha's friends follow along and start giggling at us too.

No way I'm letting this pass. I let a tiny one ooze out, a silent but deadly. Three, two ...

Fumes fill the air. "Ew!" Samantha says. "I swear it wasn't me," she whispers to her friend Claire.

I'm relishing my successful SBD bombing mission, so I lose focus and don't remain as still as I should. A fresh cloud billows up.

Niles shakes his head at me. "Really? I'm right here too."

"Sorry," I whisper. "Collateral damage."

He nods and stares past me toward the rafters, which makes it easier for him to have conversations, especially if he's a little stressed. I lean in even close. "Listen, I've noticed something wrong."

Coach reprimands a straggler on the other side of the gym and the class starts to quiet down. We don't have much time. "I've noticed it too. Let's see what she's got and talk after class?"