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‘em back, waaaay back!”
When Sundara tried to get Kelly to explain about these things, Kelly just said the main idea was trying to get the ball to one end of the field or the other. This wasn't much help. Sundara could hardly ever see where the ball was! So frustrating, hearing Jonathan's name over the loudspeaker, yet never being able to tell him from the others.
But finally there came a moment when she did see thč football. It was arcing high, and the crowd rose as one in a long, tense moan of anticipation. “Aaaahhh …” She saw the orange figure running, arms outstretched.
“Come on, McKinnon” Kelly yelled.
The ball spiraled downward. Jonathan McKinnon leapt, plucked it in midair, and hit the ground running. A deafening cheer rose as he dashed between the white posts.
Sundara found herself on her feet, jumping and clapping with the crowd. She did not understand the game, but she understood speed, she understood grace. She understood why everyone thought Jonathan McKinnon was wonderful.

    CHAPTER 5

    Standing in the hall after international relations Sundara's heart pounded so hard she feared Jonathan would hear it. “I don't know much about the politic,” she said. “Only what I hear my family say.”
“You've gotta know more than I do, though. Come on, let me interview you for my project. It won't take long.”
Why did she feel so quivery? Wasn't this just the sort of thing she'd hoped would happen? And it did seem innocent enough. After all, he was studying the situation in her homeland for his report; he had the news magazines right there on top of his notebook to prove it.
“Well,” she said, “okay. If I can help you.” By the time she realized they were going to be conducting this discussion over lunch trays, alone together out on the patio, it was too late to demur. Couples sat together under every tree, on each likely bench; how could she explain, without giving offense, that for her this was wrong?
As he started in on his sloppy joe, she smiled shyly, not meeting his eyes. “Before you tell me your question, can I ask one to you?”
“Sure.”
“Ever since I hear your name, I'm wondering. Is your father a doctor?”
“Yeah, a pediatrician.”
“Ahh … I'm glad.” Even though Jonathan looked as though he could be the son of the Dr. McKinnon she remembered, she had thought it unlikely. Would the son of a well-to-do doctor wear such faded jeans, sweatshirts with ragged cut sleeves? In America—yes. “Your father the one take care my cousin when we first come here.”
“Yeah?”
She nodded. “Little Pon so sick. Only fifteen pound he weigh at almost two year old!”
“Fifteen pounds.” He poked a straw in his milk carton. “Are you sure? My mom says I weighed almost ten when I was born.”
“But true. All his meat is gone. Nothing but bone left. We are scared because he is so bad and we cannot understand any English. But your father, he is a very kind man, so tender to all the little one. He make our Pon well again. My aunt say, Oh, if the people here are like Dr. McKinnon, maybe America gonna be a good place after all!’ This why I'm wondering if you are the son. You see, it is because of your father I am inspired to be a doctor myself.”
“You've already made up your mind?”
She nodded. “Before, I think I just take care my children when I grow up, cook and like that. But now everything so different. My family want me to be a doctor so I can go back someday and help my people. They will need more doctor, because the Khmer Rouge kill all the old one.”
“Oh. Well, I'm impressed.”
She was talking too much, she realized suddenly, embarrassed. She should encourage him to speak instead. “What do you plan to be?”
He shrugged. “I don't really know.”
“My cousin Ravy—the one you see at the market?—he is asking me do you plan to be a professional football player?”
“Don't think so.”
“But you are the big star. I see you win the game.”
He looked up. “You were there?”
She nodded, glad that at least she'd understood he'd