AC

Annette exhaled and let go of a half-crumpled laugh. What a close call, and after all that work! For how many years had she been shuttling Carter’s teammates back and forth from practice? Videotaping inning after inning for parents who couldn’t make it to the games? Substituting applesauce for canola oil in the brownies, so she could tell the mothers they were “tasty and healthy, too!”? She tugged at the wheel of her van, making a sharp right back in the direction of the baseball diamond. No, she hadn’t been elected Parent President of Covington Hills Little League for nothing. The job took guts, stamina, and salon highlights every six weeks.###Again, a laugh, more bitter this time. To think of the other mothers who had tried to shut her down since the start of the season. She could see the hope in Lorrie Turner’s eyes when Carter realized he had forgotten his water bottle. Well, guess what, Lorrie? She lived only ten minutes from those bleachers and could walk back home if it weren’t for her brand new patent platform pumps. And while she was at it, couldn’t Lorrie’s kid stand to donate some water of his own? He appeared slightly bloated from never moving off the bench.###Three more stop signs to go. Lip gloss at the first, an Altoid at the second, and then nothing at the third, lest someone catch her preoccupied behind the wheel. She had been gone just long enough for some jerk to swipe her parking spot. Annette reflected on this for a moment as base runners shifted in the distance. It had only taken her fifteen seconds to spot an old thermos at the back of the garage, and another thirty to fill it with water from the hose. She couldn’t have been quicker.###One casual mirror check, and, clutching the thermos, she made her way toward the team. She passed Colleen Erickson, mother of Jacob. Sofia Lopez, mother of Santino. Both women received a fervent grin and wave, but Annette knew that Lorrie Turner would not be rewarded with such warmth. Lorrie Turner doubted her prowess.###“Carter!” she shouted, shifting the weight of the thermos to her left thigh, which, she recalled, had been two inches wider in circumference before meeting her personal trainer at Bally Total Fitness. “Water, sweetie!” He waved her off and punched his mitt twice, keeping an eye on the batter. Annette bristled slightly but set the thermos down by his jacket, in plain view of the spectators. Slightly worn but still bright red, the thing was twice as large as all of the others. Had she any idea how much better it would look compared to the neon squeeze bottle Carter usually brought, she would have dug it out of its hiding place long ago. She found herself feeling grateful toward her husband for once, whom she would normally chastise for hoarding junk from his college days.###With a flip of her hair, Annette shifted her focus toward the bleachers. There was an opening next to Lorrie Turner, and, being a classy woman, she would take it. Even though Lorrie Turner was smirking. And staring at the thermos. Yes, staring and smirking, never a good combination. Only pointing could make things worse. Did she just point?###The letter arrived one week later.###Dear Mrs. Annette Moran,###As you know, the Covington Hills Athletic Association has many duties, all of which we take very seriously in order to facilitate a sporting experience of the utmost quality to each child. It has come to our attention that you have promoted tobacco usage through your prominent placement of a thermos featuring the Marlboro logo. I remind you that Covington Hills has a zero-tolerance policy of any product which encourages the abuse of such destructive substances, as outlined in article 4.3 of the “CHAA Healthy Habits” charter. Regretfully, we must ask you to resign from your presidency.###We thank you for your five weeks of service.###Regards,###The council members of CHAA:###Joseph Turner, Eleanor Turner, Richard “Dick” Turner, Gordon Jensen, and Louise Schultz