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frog presentation.
    It wasn’t Ruth’s turn to have the Friendship Ball, but Mina was taking no chances. She dropped it on the sofa, wondering if she’d ever see it again. Ruth might not want to pass the ball along anymore.
    They set up the frog panel in Ruth’s living room. First Ruth read, but so softly that Mina could barely hear her. As Mina read, her words felt like chunks of cold oatmeal in her mouth. The images of frogs Ruth pointed at with the long stick were faded and lifeless, printed with the old school printer.
    After they’d gone through the presentation, Ruth made a pitcher of lemonade from a can. They carried the pitcher, two glasses, and a bag of chips outside to the table under the black walnut tree.
    As Mina sat down in the lawn chair, she wished it was still the day the Fellow Friends had welcomed her into the group.
    Little brown birds hopped along the branches of the walnut tree. Did they ever get jealous or scared?
    She wanted to hide from Ruth, covering her face with the glass of lemonade. Instead, she said, “Ruth, do you think . . .” She paused, not knowing how to put it. “Do you think the Fellow Friends group is falling apart?”
    Ruth looked up from her glass. “Why do you ask that?”
    Mina shrugged and forced herself to go on. “Well, you and Sammy play alone a lot now. And Alana and I do, too.”
    “Yeah. I noticed.” Ruth flicked a leaf off her forearm.
    “This started when track started.”
    Ruth stared into her empty glass, as though studying the flecks of lemon pulp that clung to the sides.
    Would she keep on staring into the glass, or set it down and leave? The conversation might end and never start up again. Mina thought of Sammy’s idea. She was in a race. She had to keep talking. “I’ve never run before, at least not in races, or with anyone timing me,” she said. “I didn’t mean to tie you in the race. I didn’t know I could.”
    “It wasn’t your fault,” Ruth said.
    “But it still made you mad.”
    “Yeah. Sometimes.”
    Mina put down her glass and then picked it up again, needing something to hold on to. “But I didn’t mean to tie you.”
    “Don’t apologize.”
    A bird had landed on the other side of the table. It cocked its head, first to one side and then the other, eyeing the bag of chips.
Just one, please? Just a nibble?
    Ruth reached into the bag and tossed a chip toward the bird. It began to tug at it, trying to break off a bite. Two more flew down to help.
    “You came out of nowhere and ran as fast as me,” Ruth said. “I’ve worked all my life to be good at sports. I practice soccer three times a week. And here you come . . . But it’s okay. Really, it’s okay.”
    Mina felt like one of the tiny birds — out on the end of a branch, but with no wings. Yet she had to continue. “In the tryouts I tried to run slower.”
    “I know you did. And that was even worse. You know, Mina, when athletes compete, it isn’t fair if someone doesn’t try their hardest. You made me feel like I didn’t really win. Or like at any time you could surprise me and beat me and I won’t know what hit me.”
    “I didn’t know what else to do.”
    “Yeah, I knew you lost on purpose because we’re friends. A real athlete wouldn’t have done that.”
    “But I’m not a real athlete,” said Mina. “I’m a girlie girl.”
    Ruth laughed so loudly that the birds flew off. “You’re one fast girlie girl.”
    Ruth’s laughter made Mina laugh, too. Then she interlocked her fingers and looked down into the tight ball her hands made. She sighed and looked up. “I just want to be a Fellow Friend.”
    Ruth threw another chip to lure the birds back before turning to Mina. She squinted and screwed up her face against the bright sun. “It’s too late. You’re already more than a friend.”
    “What do you mean?”
    “A friend is a friend. I’ve got lots. But there’s not a lot of people I can race against.” She paused. “I got an idea. I want to know