The Static Between Channels

Marcus sat on the roof, legs dangling over the edge, holding a frayed baseball he'd found in the gutter three summers ago. His fingers traced the stitching like they were reading braille, though he'd never been good at the sport. His dad kept signing him up for Little League every spring, and Marcus kept striking out, literally and figuratively.

Below, a dog barked — Mrs. Gable's ancient golden retriever, the same one that had chased him up this tree last week when he was delivering newspapers he didn't even get paid for. The dog's name was ironically "Lucky." Marcus wasn't feeling very lucky himself.

The cable guy was supposed to come between noon and four. It was now 6:47 PM. His mom had been pacing the living room since 11:58 AM, because apparently having premium channels was the only thing keeping their family from falling apart. Marcus knew better. The premium channels were just expensive distractions from the fact that his dad had moved to an apartment in Jersey City two months ago.

"Hey," said a voice behind him.

Marcus jumped, nearly dropping his baseball. It was Maya from down the street, the girl who sat behind him in algebra and never seemed to study but still got A's. She was holding a skateboard and looking annoyingly calm.

"Cable guy's not coming," she said, sitting down beside him. "Happened to us last month. They rescheduled for three weeks later. My mom lost her mind."

Marcus laughed, surprising himself. "My mom's already there."

"Figured." She pointed at the baseball. "You play?"

"Terribly," Marcus admitted. "You?"

Maya shrugged. "Used to play catch with my brother. Before he left for college." She paused. "Before everything got weird."

"Yeah," Marcus said. "Before everything got weird. That's exactly it."

Below, Lucky the dog had given up on barking at nothing and was now lying in the grass, belly exposed to the cooling evening air. The cable van was nowhere in sight.

"You know," Maya said, "my dad taught me this thing. When something's broken, sometimes you have to hit it to make it work again. Like an old TV, or a relationship, or yourself."

Marcus gripped the baseball tighter. "You think I need to hit something?"

"I think we all do," she said. "Sometimes."

She stood up and held out her hand. "Come on. I have a bat in my garage. We can break something that deserves it. Or we can just play catch and pretend the cable guy is definitely coming tomorrow."

Marcus looked at the baseball, then at Maya, then at the empty street where the cable guy should've been hours ago. He grabbed her hand and pulled himself up.

"Tomorrow," he said. "Definitely tomorrow."

They walked down the driveway together as Lucky stood up and trotted after them, like maybe this time he'd finally get someone to play.