by Derek Jeter
If so, they were in for a shock. After watching the new kid throw his warm-up pitches, Avery calmly walked around to the right-handed batter’s box and took a few practice swings.
Derek smiled as he saw the coach’s eyes go wide with surprise. A switch-hitter! Oh, well, Derek thought with amusement. There was nothing the coach could do about it now.
Avery let one pitch go by, taking a strike. She might have been new to playing ball, but for years she’d watched every game her older brother had played. He’d been headed for a college baseball scholarship—until the car crash. That had been a year ago. Now Avery was playing to honor his memory. Derek knew that was why she took it so hard when things went badly.
Avery let another pitch go by, a ball that evened the count at 1–1. Then she lined a fastball right back at the pitcher, who ducked, protecting his face with his mitt.
Incredibly, the ball stuck right in it! Realizing he’d caught it, the pitcher threw quickly to second, where the shortstop tagged Harry before he could get back to the base.
Double play!
“NOOOOO!” Avery screamed in fury, smacking her bat hard onto the plate, then kicking the dirt before heading back to the bench.
There was no consoling her. She angrily shook off pats on the back, then plunked herself down at the very end of the bench, alone and despairing.
“Hey, we’re not done yet!” Derek called out, meaning it for her, even though he didn’t dare look her way.
Ryan came to the plate, with Pete on third and two out. Ryan was their season RBI leader, and once again he came through in the clutch—lashing a double down the left field line! Pete scored easily to tie the game, 2–2.
After JJ popped out to end the inning, Coach K offered Avery the ball. “You good for one more inning?” he asked. She nodded, took the ball from him, and marched out to the mound for the top of the fifth.
After getting the first two outs, though, she seemed to tire. Her pitches were all over the place again, like in the first inning. She walked two, then gave up a double that scored both the Pirates’ runners!
Coach K walked slowly to the mound, took the ball from her, and motioned for Harry to come in from third to pitch. Tre’ entered the game to play third, and Avery walked slowly to the dugout, never once looking up from the ground. She sat down so heavily that it seemed to Derek she never meant to get up again.
He wanted to tell her that he understood, that he was feeling a different version of the same thing. He wanted to tell her not to give up, that the Yanks still had plenty of fight left, and that a 4–2 deficit wasn’t an impossible mountain to climb—not with six outs left!
But there was no time to talk. Harry was done warming up, and the game was about to resume.
Harry threw one pitch, and it was enough. The hitter smashed it just to Derek’s right. He snagged it, planted his foot, and threw a BB to first for the final Pirates out of the inning!
In their half of the fifth, the Yankees brought the bottom of their batting order to the plate, to face yet another Pirates pitcher—a righty this time. Derek saw that this one’s pitches started off looking good but then faded, winding up in the dirt. They looked tempting, but they were more like fish bait.
After two strikes, the Pirates’ pitcher finished Elliott off with a high floater that dropped in for a third strike. Derek took careful note.
“Hey, Vij,” he said to his friend in the on-deck circle. “Don’t bite on those fastballs. Wait for the high, slow pitch.”
Vijay gave Derek a nod and a wink as he walked to the plate.
“Come on, Vij,” Derek muttered under his breath. “Keep it going, man…. Get me an at bat.”
Vijay took two balls in the dirt, then swung hard at the floater. He cued it off the end of the bat—just a dribbler, really—but it took a crazy bounce, and Vijay wound up beating the throw, for a single!
Derek clued Mason in too, and he worked a walk. Suddenly, with men on first and second, it was all up to Derek!
This time he didn’t just need to get on base. He didn’t need to take a strike. He needed to hit one as hard as he could and tie up this game!
The first pitch he saw was the floater—the pitcher had obviously decided to trick him by changing his pattern. Derek waited on it, then leaned in and whacked it to left.
He took off running like a shot. Vijay and Mason raced around to score ahead of him, and Derek wound up on third with a super-clutch, game-tying triple!
The Yankees and their fans were going wild with excitement. Even Avery was up and shouting now.
Derek could feel the blood pounding in his head. He’d done it! Now, if only they could finish the Pirates off…
The pitcher, clearly rattled, hit Pete in the butt with a slow curve. Pete yowled comically, rubbing the sore spot as he limped to first. The Yankees laughed and clapped, enjoying themselves now. The Pirates, meanwhile, stood staring glumly as their playoff dreams evaporated before their eyes.
Harry put the icing on the cake by creaming a double to right, scoring Derek and Pete easily! Even though Tre’, hitting for Avery, then grounded into a double play to end the inning, it was now 6–4, Yanks! Only three outs to go to nail down a playoff spot!
Harry proceeded to take care of business, finally looking like his old, healthy self in retiring three discouraged Pirates in a row to seal the victory.
All the Yankees rejoiced together. To Derek, it was as if a ten-ton weight had been lifted off his shoulders. Whatever happened next, at least they’d made the playoffs. No one could say their season had been a failure.
He looked over at Avery, who was finally smiling. “Hey, you! Up top!” he said, and she gladly high-fived him. They even exchanged hugs, as if the tension and testiness had never existed.
“You okay?” he asked.
Her smile vanished, replied by a quizzical look. “What are you talking about?” She looked at him like he was crazy.
“Uh… nothing. Forget it,” said Derek, shrugging. “Great game, huh?”
“Hey, we made it,” she said. “That’s all that matters!”
Derek let it go at that. Whatever her problem had been, she seemed all right now. He went to find his mom and celebrate some more.
Chapter Two STRESS TEST
“All right, class—listen up, please.”
Derek turned his attention to the front of the room. The bell for last period had just rung. Ms. Terrapin was rapping on her desk with a ruler, and the class had now quieted down enough for her to continue.
“I’m going to hand out the schedule for finals,” she said, picking up a sheaf of papers and handing a few to each student in the front row. “Pass them back, please. Now, don’t panic,” she added. “Your class presentations in social studies and foreign language will be counted as your finals in those subjects, so it’s just math, English, and science you’ll have to bone up on.”
Sighs of relief greeted this happy news. “HOWEVER,” Ms. Terrapin went on, “there’s a new twist this year. As I told you back in January, you’ll also be taking the national standardized tests.”
A worried murmur rose from the four corners of the room. Derek vaguely remembered her saying something about standardized tests, a long, long time ago—but he’d let himself forget all about them. He’d taken them before—way back in fourth grade—and the one thing he remembered was that his teacher had told Derek’s parents not to worry that he hadn’t scored as well as he usually did on his finals, that he’d probably just had “test anxiety.”
* * *
“Hey, Jeter! Where’re you running? C’mere a minute.”
Derek looked back over his shoulder to see Gary Parnell emerging from the classroom. Gary approached him, a sinister grin on his face.
Uh-oh, thought Derek. Whatever that grin signified, it could not possibly be good. “What’s up, Gary?” he asked, trying to sound casual.
“I think you already know—don’t you?” It wasn’t even really a question. “Of course you do. It�
�s time for our annual finals challenge!” He rubbed his two hands together eagerly. “I, for one, can’t wait! You?”
“Joy,” said Derek sarcastically.
Gary had been in Derek’s class every year since second grade. Every year, Gary had challenged Derek to a contest—whoever got the highest grades on their finals won. And the loser had to pay a price.
“I figure since we’re bigger this year, we should have bigger penalties,” Gary said. “Don’t you agree?” The grin grew wider.
“Totally,” Derek said, trying to shoot a cocky smile back at Gary and wondering if it looked cocky enough.
“Of course, if you’d rather not compete this year…”
“Not compete?”
“I mean, I could understand. I’ve had another year to leapfrog your pathetic intelligence. It probably wouldn’t even be a fair fight—”
“You’re on!” Derek said hotly, even as he wished he’d kept his mouth shut. Gary almost always got better grades than Derek did. The few times when he’d beaten Gary had only served to keep Derek in the game for future punishments.
“Seriously?” Gary said, raising his eyebrows in surprise. “You actually think you can win this thing?”
“I know I can.”
“Then how about this for a penalty—on the last morning of school, the loser has to write on every classroom blackboard, ‘Gary Parnell is smarter than I am.’ And sign it.”
“You mean ‘Derek Jeter is smarter,’ ” Derek corrected him. “Sounds good.” A hysterically funny idea crossed his mind, at the same time that he felt an urge to stick it to Gary. Those two things combined at that fateful moment to make Derek say something he would soon come to regret:
“And I’ll go you one better. Whoever loses has to dress up in a chicken suit the last day of school!”
“Oooo… I like it!” Gary said, rubbing his hands together some more. “I can’t wait, Jeter. You are dead meat—I’ve always killed on standardized tests.”
“W-wait. Who said we were counting those?” Derek asked, suddenly thrown off-balance.
Gary shrugged. “They’re part of our finals, aren’t they? So there we are—best three out of five. Since you’re so baseball crazy, think of it as an academic ‘World Series.’ Unless, of course, you want to back out. In which case—”
“No way,” Derek said, thrusting out his hand. “You’ve got yourself a deal.”
* * *
“I shouldn’t have agreed to include the standardized tests,” Derek said to Vijay as the two friends rode the school bus home to Mount Royal Townhouses.
“Don’t worry,” Vijay told him. “You will beat him. You’ll see.”
“Did I say I was worried?”
“It’s not what you said. It’s the look on your face.”
“What look?” Derek asked, a little irritated.
Vijay chuckled. “Never mind. Look, the standardized tests are a snap. No problem for you.”
“How do you know that?”
“You’re one of the smartest kids in school. Trust me, I know what I’m talking about. I am very experienced with these kinds of tests. My parents had me do a whole battery of them when we came here from India. I think they wanted to show people I was not behind in my schooling.”
Derek laughed. “Behind? That’s funny.”
“So with all my experience, I can help you practice for them,” Vijay offered.
“You would do that?”
“Sure! It will be fun to study together. And even more fun watching Gary wear a chicken suit!”
Derek laughed. Somehow, as he always did, his old friend had found a way to make Derek feel better. Just the thought of Vijay and his big brain helping him study gave Derek hope.
The bus pulled into the Mount Royal stop, and the two boys got off. “See you at four thirty?” Vijay asked.
“I’ll be there,” Derek told him. “Aren’t I always?”
* * *
One good thing about finals coming up was that Derek’s teacher had let them off the hook as far as homework was concerned.
“Seriously?” his dad asked, raising a doubtful eyebrow.
“Dad,” Derek said, tilting his head, “not only finals but standardized tests, too!”
“I see,” said Mr. Jeter, who was going through a pile of work he’d brought home from his office. “And how much time did you just put into studying?”
“An hour and fifteen minutes. Dad, my brain can’t take in any more right now. Please?”
“Are you off to the Hill, then?”
“Yup. Thanks, Dad!” Derek said, rushing to the hall closet to grab his mitt and bat.
“Say hi to everybody,” said his dad as Derek flew out the door. “Especially Vijay and Dave. Tell them good luck in the playoffs.”
Derek heard that last part as he pulled the front door closed behind him. He set off at a run, headed for the open slope in the middle of Mount Royal Townhouses that all the kids called Derek Jeter’s Hill.
And why shouldn’t they name it after him? Derek practically lived there. Hardly a day went by when he wasn’t already waiting for whoever else happened to show up to play ball.
With stones and protruding tree roots for bases, and the occasional bush as an obstacle in the outfield, the Hill posed its challenges. But it was the only field of any kind close enough for the kids’ parents to still be within shouting distance.
There were already lots of kids out there, playing and taking fielding practice. One of Avery’s older friends, from her neighborhood, was hitting grounders and flies to the others. The local field in Avery’s neighborhood was under renovation, so those kids had all shifted over here, making the Hill more crowded than it used to be.
But Derek liked it—it meant they had enough kids to play real games. Avery’s friends had all been close to her brother—and, well, Derek liked playing with older kids. It brought out the best in his game.
He spotted Avery, fielding a hot grounder at second and flipping it back in. She waved to Derek, and he waved back. “Get out here!” she called. “I need my double-play partner!”
That was more like it—the usual Avery, relaxed and fun, and still as tough as nails.
Derek grinned, dropped his bat next to the backstop, and ran out to take his place at short.
Vijay came running down the path, waving as he took his place in right field—just in time to field a fly ball hit his way.
Derek looked around, shielding his eyes from the sun, trying to see if Dave had arrived yet. Dave was Derek’s other best friend. Except that lately they hadn’t seen each other as much as usual.
Dave had been on Derek’s previous Little League teams, but not this year. And that meant they had different schedules, different practices—not to mention they were in different classes at school this year too.
That’s weird, thought Derek. He said he’d be here…. It wasn’t like Dave to say he’d be someplace and then not show. And it wasn’t like he couldn’t get a ride for some reason. Dave’s family was rich and had their own driver, Chase Bradway, who was also Dave’s guardian. Chase looked after Dave whenever his mom and dad were away, which was most of the time. So Dave always had a lift to get wherever he needed.
Something must have come up. But what?
This was no time to think about it, though. They were already choosing sides for a pickup game.
Soon it was in full swing. And Derek approached every game like it was the seventh game of the World Series. Nothing else got in the way when he was on the field or at the plate, or even just watching the game from the bench.
Avery was the same way. But here on the Hill, where the stakes weren’t as high, she didn’t seem to stress out as much. And like most people, she played even better when she played loose.
About midway through the game, one of Avery’s older friends hit a screaming one-hopper to Derek’s right. He took two running steps, then dived for it—and skidded a full six feet on a bare patch scattered with sharp gravel.
Ouch. Ow… ow… He got up slowly, dusting off his chest and legs. The ribs on his right side burned, and he knew he’d skinned himself badly.
“You okay?” Avery called to him from second base.
“I’m fine,” he said, tensing his jaw and pounding his glove. He knew he wasn’t fine. But he was okay enough to go on playing. Derek was not going to let a mere flesh wound get him out of the game. Still, he knew it was going to take some tending to when he got home.
But what bothered him worse than his scratched ribs was Dave not showing up. It wasn’t like him, especially when he’d said only that day at lunch that he’d be there.
“Wouldn’t miss it!” Derek remembered him saying. “Not many more times we can get on a ball field together before school’s out and you head off to New Jersey.” As in Derek’s grandparents’ house, where he and Sharlee spent all their summers.
So what had happened to Dave?
Chapter Three SERIOUS BUSINESS
“Whoa. That’s some strawberry you’ve got there. It must sting pretty good, huh?” Derek’s mom was staring at his ribs. At least the scratches weren’t deep, and hadn’t bled a lot. “Here, let me wash that and get some triple antibiotic cream on it.”
She got out a clean washcloth, ran it under warm water, came back to the bedroom, and gently dabbed at the wounds. Derek breathed in sharply, hissing as the burning sensation hit him.
“I dived for a liner, out on the Hill,” he told her.
She shook her head and let out a chuckle. “Did you at least make the play?”
Derek shook his head. “That’s what really hurts,” he said, managing a wincing grin.
She got out some gauze and taped over his wounds, then helped him with his pajama top. “So, how’s school going?” she asked.
“Huh?”
“You know—school? Where you go five days a week?”
“Oh. It’s fine,” Derek said.
