by Joyce Grant
“Look, is your other glove a mess?”
“Yes, but —”
“And is it hard for you to catch long-balls with it?”
“Yes, but —”
“I don’t know about you, but I’d like to win some more games this season. And if you go dropping all the balls . . . you won’t be much good to us, will you? This isn’t just for you. It’s for the team.”
Miguel laughed. “Okay, I give in,” he said.
“Happy birthday, my friend. And to Felix Crumples, whoever he is!” Sebastian gestured at the birthday banner.
Miguel laughed.
The smell of something delicious suddenly captured everyone’s attention. Miguel saw that his mother had set out plates of food. There were tamales and fried plantains and pupusas. There was a delicious cabbage salad and a big bowl of soup loaded with beef and vegetables.
“Come on, kids,” Miguel’s mother said. “Eat up!”
Tami was the first to reach the table. “Look at these tamales!” she exclaimed.
After the meal, Miguel’s mother served squares of cake topped with whipped cream, strawberries and almonds.
Miguel stood up. He cleared his throat.
“I want to thank you,” he said. He had one arm around his mother and the other around Claudia. “It was not easy for us when we moved here three years ago. But having friends like you, it makes me feel . . .”
Miguel saw that Sebastian and Jock had tears in their eyes.
“I’m sorry,” said Miguel. “I’m terrible at speeches. But I have good news. We just found out that our father will soon be allowed to come to Canada!”
“But I thought —” said Sebastian.
“He’s coming, Sebastian. We’re not exactly sure how we can make it happen. But nothing is going to stop him from joining us.”
“But —”
“No buts, Sebastian,” Miguel cut him off again. “This is a happy day.”
“But I thought he couldn’t come because you need money for the plane ticket!” Sebastian blurted out before Miguel could stop him.
“What’s that?” asked Gnash.
“They don’t have enough money for the plane ticket,” said Sebastian, loudly.
“Sebastian!” said Jock. “They might not want everyone to know that!”
“I tried to ask my parents for a loan, but they said they couldn’t,” said Sebastian. “I’ve been feeling really bad about it. I’m so sorry, Miguel.”
“That’s okay,” said Miguel. “I wouldn’t have been able to take your parents’ money, anyway.”
Suddenly, he thought about his sister. He looked down at her.
Claudia’s eyes were brimming with tears. “Does this mean Daddy can’t come to Canada?” she asked.
“Of course not,” said Miguel. “It just means it might take a little bit longer.”
Claudia started crying for real. Tears flowed down her face as she became more and more upset. Miguel picked her up and hugged her, but she squirmed out of his grasp.
“But he’s not safe!” said Claudia, through her tears. “He might get hurt! He needs to come here now!”
“Why?” asked Gnash.
Briefly, Miguel explained his father’s situation to his teammates.
“Then Claudia’s right. We have to bring him over. Now,” said Tami.
“For sure,” said Jock.
“But how?” asked Gnash. “You just heard Sebastian say they don’t have the money for a plane ticket.”
“I’ve got more babysitting jobs lined up,” said Miguel. “Don’t worry, you guys.”
“We have to do something. Think, everyone,” said Gnash.
“Miguel, can I speak with you a minute?” Miguel’s mother called him into the kitchen.
“I know, I know,” began Miguel.
“I like your friends, Miguel. I really do. But you know how your father and I feel about charity. We can’t accept it, no matter how kindly it is offered,” said Miguel’s mother.
“I know,” repeated Miguel.
“Please, talk to your friends.”
“I will, Mama,” said Miguel.
18
Big Plans
“Hey, what about a home-run derby?” asked Sebastian as Miguel came back from the kitchen.
“Sebastian, this is no time to think about games. We’ve got a serious problem to solve,” said Tami. She rolled her eyes.
“Why do you always have to be goofing around, Sebastian?” asked Gnash. “This is important.”
“No!” said Sebastian. “I mean, we can hold a home-run derby to raise money for Mr. Estrada’s plane ticket!”
“You know, guys, that’s not totally stupid,” said Gnash.
“We could have a best-hitter competition. Everyone could pay five bucks to hit,” said Jock. “The longest hit wins a prize or something.”
“And a longest-throw contest,” said Tami. “And a sprinting competition. The fastest time around the bases wins.”
“There could be a box for donations,” said Jock.
“We could hold an exhibition game with those rich Parkhill Pirates!” said Gnash. “They have tons of money! We’ll take their parents’ money — and then totally beat them on the field!”
“I kind of like that idea,” said Jock.
“My mom’s company makes toys. I’m sure I could get them to donate some prizes,” said Lin. “Maybe stuffed animals or baseballs or something.”
“And Mommy can sell pupusas and tamales and empanadas,” said Claudia.
“Guys!” said Miguel. “Hey, guys!” He held up his hands.
“What?” asked Tami. She had gone back for more food. Now she was shovelling soup into her mouth.
“Stop! Please, stop. We can’t do this,” said Miguel.
“What? Why not?” asked Sebastian.
“I know you mean well. But this just isn’t what our family does.”
“What, you mean accept payback for everything you’ve done for us?” asked Jock.
“What do you mean?” asked Miguel.
“Remember last year, when those stupid Pirates were on my case?”
“Of course,” said Miguel.
“You were one of the first ones to help me,” said Jock. “You even yelled at Stretch!”
“And you practically wrote my history essay last term,” said Gnash.
“Yeah, and my belly’s been full of your mom’s pupusas all month,” said Tami. “And sopa and tres leches cake and . . .”
“This isn’t charity,” said Gnash. “Believe me, I’m the last one who would be giving stuff away!”
“This is just what a team does,” said Jock.
“Besides, it wouldn’t be only for you,” said Tami.
“It wouldn’t?” asked Miguel. He was so distracted, he didn’t hear his mother come into the room.
“No! It would also be to let people know what’s happening in El Salvador.”
“How much do you think we could raise?” asked Sebastian.
“I bet we could raise enough to pay for the ticket. And to put some in a fund for other families in the neighbourhood,” said Jock. “There’s a group that helps newcomers.”
Miguel’s mother put her arm around his shoulders and gave him a squeeze. “Miguel, if it would help other families . . .” she said. Miguel looked hopefully at her, and she nodded.
Soon the excited Blues were all talking over one another with ideas and suggestions. It was a long time before anyone noticed the music coming from the corner of the room.
“Hey, shush, you guys!” said Tami. “Ssssssh! Listen!” She pointed to the corner where Miguel sat, strumming his guitar.
Miguel began to sing in Spanish. His voice surrounded his teammates like a warm blanket. It was a song none of them knew, but they listen
ed, entranced.
“He sounds amazing,” said Sebastian, poking Tami in the arm.
“Sssssssh!” Tami shushed him.
Miguel finished his song and put down his guitar. There was silence in the room as the music settled.
And then, all Miguel’s friends burst into applause.
* * *
The team had gone home and his mother had put Claudia to bed. Miguel got out the family’s laptop to call his father on Skype. He wanted to see his father’s face and ask him if they could go ahead with the fundraiser.
The house was quiet. Mr. Estrada’s gentle face and warm eyes peered out of the glow of the screen. Miguel’s mother came into the room and quietly handed her son a mug of steaming, milky tea. She leaned over so her husband could see her face. She smiled at him.
Miguel told his father about the party. And having to babysit three kids at once.
“And Claudia got stuck!” he said.
“Stuck? Where?” asked his father. His eyes crinkled with laughter.
“In the swing! I had to dive over to catch her!”
Miguel heard a loud banging noise coming from another part of his father’s house. It sounded like someone knocking hard on his father’s front door.
“What’s that?” Miguel asked.
His father turned to look behind him. “I have to go,” he said.
“Why, Dad? What’s going on?”
“Nothing for you to worry about,” his father said. “Really. I’ll be fine. This is just a normal part of life in this neighbourhood now. I will see you soon, in person! Just look after your sister for me. And listen to your mother! I love you.”
The screen went black as his father signed off. Slowly, Miguel pulled the screen down and clicked the laptop shut.
He needed to get his father out of El Salvador. He thought about what his teammates had said. How accepting help was all just part of being on a team. About how he, too, gave to his teammates. And about how the fund could help other families.
Fighting a wave of pain building in his stomach, he knew he needed to do something — right now. He found a lined notepad and a pen and wrote: FUNDRAISER.
Underneath, he wrote the numbers 1 to 10. He started to list the things he needed to do to get ready.
1) Ask Mr. Raymond: Date dad can leave
2) Christie Pits park permit
3) Call Pirates for exhibition game
Soon, Miguel realized how many little things had to get done. Arrange hitting contest. Get signs for throwing contest. Get tickets. Prizes. Microphone for announcements. Advertise the event. Get sponsors. Write a Facebook post. Ask Ben if he would volunteer to ump.
His list went on and on. How could Miguel possibly do all of it? And he still had his babysitting jobs taking up his time.
A sharp knock took his attention away from the list. Miguel padded to the front door, not wanting his sister and mother to be disturbed by the noise. He was surprised at who he found on his front step.
“Hi! Sorry to disturb you this late. But I forgot those pupusas your mom packed for me,” said Sebastian. “I was nearly all the way home when I remembered. I asked my dad to turn the car around and come right back.”
“Come in,” said Miguel. “They’re in a bag on the counter. I’ll get it.”
“Hey, what’s this?” asked Sebastian. He picked up Miguel’s list. Sebastian scanned the long string of items and then whistled. “Geez,” he said.
“Yeah,” said Miguel.
“So you’re thinking we can do this thing?”
“Well, I didn’t get a chance to ask my dad. But since it’ll raise money for other people too, I think he’ll go for it.”
“Good! But look at this list! I had no idea it would be this much work.”
Miguel chuckled. “You never do, Sebastian!”
“Don’t worry. I’ll call a team meeting. We’ll meet at lunch tomorrow. And we’ll . . . we’ll delegate!”
“Delegate?” asked Miguel. “What do you mean?”
“Well, when my mom runs a big charity event, she gets everyone to do stuff. Like, Lin can be in charge of the prizes. And Gnash can get us his grandfather’s microphone, and maybe do online publicity. Raj can call about the permits — he’s good at dealing with adults. Jock can set up the throwing contest. And I’m sure Tami will help your mom with the bake sale. As long as your mom can keep her from eating all the profits!”
Miguel stared at Sebastian. Could he possibly accept all that help from his teammates? How could he ask everyone to do so much work?
All of a sudden, it was just too much. Accepting charity. Worrying about his father. The surprise birthday party. Sebastian’s amazing gift. He lurched forward and clutched Sebastian in a big bear hug.
And he let his tears flow.
19
Derby Day
People crowded into the Pits under the bright sun. Miguel watched them come out of the subway station and line up to buy tickets for the competitions. He saw them flock to the bake table. They bought cupcakes and licked the icing that the sun melted down the sides.
Miguel and the Blues helped with the throwing competition on Diamond 2 and the hitting contest on Diamond 1. Miguel watched as adults dropped money in the donation box, which slowly grew fuller.
“Some people are here to compete,” said Jock. “Some of them live near the Pits, or want to support new Canadians. But everyone’s here for your mother’s delicious food!”
Just after lunch, Miguel heard a low rumble at the west side of the park. He saw a convoy of black SUVs pull into the parking lot above Diamond 2. He watched the Parkhill Pirates get out of the SUVs and stream down into the ballpark. Their white uniforms glowed in the sun as they began warming up.
He watched as the Pirates’ parents and siblings made their way to the tables, where they bought tickets and food and made generous donations. He even saw Stretch, the Pirate who had treated Jock with such prejudice and anger, sample the pupusas and drop some of his allowance money in the donation box.
“Pirate money,” joked Sebastian. “That’s okay — we’ll take money off those guys any time!”
“This is going really well, isn’t it?” asked Miguel, as they watched the batters line up to compete. Sebastian had a fistful of tickets he had collected from the kids in the line-up, each one worth a dollar.
“Here, I’ll take those over to the ticket box for you,” Miguel told Sebastian. He hardly knew how to thank his teammates. He never dreamed that people even knew — much less cared — about the struggles of newcomers to Canada.
And then, he knew what he had to do. It was outside his comfort zone, but he also knew someone who would help him.
“Sebastian,” said Miguel. “I need to thank everyone. But I’m not really comfortable speaking to crowds . . .”
“Here, let me,” said Sebastian. He grabbed the wireless microphone.
“EXCUSE ME!” he said. He tapped the mic and it squealed.
The crowd turned toward the sound.
“A-HEM! EXCUSE ME!” he said, even louder. Another squeal from the microphone.
Few could resist Sebastian’s warm, goofy grin as he stood waiting until the crowd hushed.
“I want to thank everyone for coming out today,” he said. “As you know, we are in the final stages of bringing someone very special into this community. Jose Estrada is the father of one of our own Blues players. We want to welcome him to Canada and reunite him with his family.”
The crowd clapped.
“We also want to thank our city councillors, Beau Maverick and Spike Leighton, for helping to arrange the permits for today’s event.” Miguel smiled over at two men standing near the bake table. They had also helped smooth out the paperwork for his family more than once.
The crowd applauded again. Sebastian turned to put the microphone back
on the table, but Miguel took it from him.
If Sebastian can try to change, thought Miguel, I can try too. He swallowed.
“Thanks, Sebastian,” he said tentatively into the microphone. He cleared his throat. “THANK YOU, SEBASTIAN,” he said, more clearly.
The crowd looked expectantly at Miguel.
“I would like to thank my teammates.”
There was whooping and hollering from the Blues.
“And in particular, Sebastian. He’s our catcher.”
Sebastian’s face turned red. He took a deep, dramatic bow, to the delight of the audience.
“You may think we are unlikely friends.” Miguel heard chuckles from the crowd. “And you’d be right. But I have come to realize some things about Sebastian. Not only is he a talented ball player. But his heart is as big as anyone’s I have ever known. I will never forget what he has done for our family and other families like ours in this community. And I will never forget what you all have done. Thank you. Oh, and one last thing —” Miguel turned to look at Coach Coop. “GO BLUES!”
The crowd burst into what sounded to Miguel like thunderous applause. Sebastian turned and slapped him on the back. Miguel was happy. Sebastian could be silly and clumsy and irresponsible. But Miguel now knew that those things were nothing compared to his many good qualities.
“I’ve got another surprise for you, my friend,” Sebastian said to Miguel.
“What?”
“I know you have to babysit tomorrow. The surprise is that I’m going to babysit for you. I want you to have a day off. You can do whatever you want. Have fun! I’ll take care of the kids.”
He looked at Miguel, who wasn’t smiling. “Isn’t that awesome?” asked Sebastian, a little less forcefully.
“Uh,” said Miguel. “Um . . .”
“It’ll be great! I’ll take them to the park. They can use the pizza oven. And we’ll go horseback riding. And scuba diving in the lake. I might even take them zip-lining, if we have time, after we go on the trampoline.”
“Sebastian, they’re four years old.”
“Okay. Well, maybe not zip-lining, then.”
“How about you come along and just help me babysit,” said Miguel. “We’ll push them on the swings.”
