Force Out

by Tim Green

  18

  “Joey?” His mom had her police officer face on. “Mr. Kratz had his truck vandalized.”

  Joey opened his mouth, but nothing came out. He felt the gates of his tear ducts swinging open, and fought to keep them closed.

  “Look at this.” Mr. Kratz raised the silver clamp even higher. “You believe this? Crazy, right? Someone shut down my fuel line.”

  Joey nodded, but it was his mom Mr. Kratz was talking to.

  “I didn’t know if I should make a formal complaint or not,” Mr. Kratz said. “I came to throw the Frisbee with my dog and saw you up there in the stands. I hate to bother you, Officer Riordon, but you said anytime.”

  “Mr. Kratz, your jam keeps my whole family happy. I meant it when I said anytime, and I’m glad you asked me instead of someone who’d just sweep it under the rug.”

  The tone of their banter didn’t sound to Joey like he was about to be thrown in jail or grounded for life, and he shared a puzzled look with Zach.

  “I know it sounds silly,” Mr. Kratz said, his low, rough voice sounding almost jolly, “but someone must have done this on purpose. I don’t even know if it’s a crime. Well, the crime is that we missed our field trip, but I mean a real crime.”

  “It’s vandalism.” Joey’s mom smelled crime in the air the way a dog sniffed out a holiday ham. “That’s a crime in my book, and if you want to lodge a complaint, I’d be happy to swing by later this afternoon, or we could wait until I’m actually on duty Monday morning.”

  Mr. Kratz held up a hand. “No, I don’t want to mess up your weekend. I just thought maybe you’d heard of it happening around town with other people. Some kind of prank that’s all of a sudden popular with the kids. We used to tip over people’s cows. You know how kids can be.”

  Joey’s mom gave him and Zach a narrow-eyed look. “Oh, I do. What do you two know about it?”

  Joey didn’t like the look on Zach’s face. It was the look of a dead man walking.

  Zach opened his mouth. “We—”

  Joey stomped on Zach’s toe to cut him off. “We don’t know anything about kids doing that. Nope. That’s a new one.”

  Mr. Kratz turned the clamp over in his hand, studying it. “I don’t know if it even is kids. I can’t think why anyone else would do it, but here’s something else.”

  The teacher looked up to see that Joey’s mom was listening. “I know it sounds even stranger, but I think whoever did it may have drugged Daisy.”

  “Daisy?” Joey’s mom asked.

  “My dog.”

  “The dog I’ve seen?” Joey’s mom asked.

  “I know. He’s no daisy. That’s what’s strange. If someone spent time monkeying around under my truck, he’d have gone bananas. And he was sleeping next to the truck when I found him this morning. I had to nudge him to get up, which never happens, and then he was kind of groggy, stumbling all over. I didn’t think too much of it. Thought maybe he ate a dead squirrel or something and got sick, but then my mechanic found this, so . . .”

  “Drugged?” Joey’s mom put one hand to the side of her face and scratched her ear.

  Joey didn’t know if his stomach could take any more.

  “Well, I should come by today, then,” his mom said. “We can take a blood sample and see.”

  “You can do that?”

  “I spent my summers as a kid working for a vet. It’s nothing, and if someone tranquilized your dog, whatever is in his system should tell us a lot more about who did it.”

  “How’s that?” Mr. Kratz asked.

  “Well, not everyone has access to those kinds of tranquilizers. We can check with the local vets and narrow it down.”

  “That’s a lot of trouble for a pretty minor mystery.”

  “Not at all.” Joey’s mom shook her head. “Someone drugging an animal and tampering with your truck? The county lab is slow right now anyway. I was in there the other day and they were all sitting around playing Texas Hold’em.”

  Mr. Kratz’s stained and smiling teeth appeared in the midst of his thick beard. “Very nice of you, Officer Riordon. I appreciate it. I would like to know who did this.”

  Joey’s mom gave a short nod. “Me, too.”

  19

  Mr. Kratz lumbered toward the parking lot, where Daisy waited in the bed of the pickup truck, Frisbee in his mouth and wagging his tail. Joey and Zach shared a private look of dread.

  “You played well, Zach.” Joey’s dad, who carried Martin on his shoulders, shook Zach’s hand.

  “Thanks,” Zach said.

  “They both did.” Zach’s dad, Kurt James, was a short and heavyset man who used to actually play on the Mariners double-A farm team. “You guys had a great season, so stop hanging your heads. The only sure thing is that there’s no sure thing.”

  The parents said good-bye to one another.

  “Talk to you later,” Joey said to Zach, and watched them go.

  “Sorry about the game.” Joey’s dad lowered his voice. “Good effort.”

  “I stunk.” Joey was more worried about Mr. Kratz and his dog right now, but his response to the game was automatic. “There goes the all-stars.”

  “Hey, you can’t say that,” his dad said. “You had a super season.”

  “Poop.” Martin giggled.

  “No, Marty,” his mother said. “That’s not a nice word.”

  Joey just stared at his little brother atop their father’s shoulders. The sparkle in Martin’s eyes suggested that he knew exactly what he was saying and why. Joey made a snarling face. Martin blew a green snot bubble that bulged in and out of his left nostril defiantly.

  “He is so disgusting.” Joey couldn’t help saying it.

  “That’s your little brother, mister.” His mom glared at him, and Joey knew he should quit while he was ahead. When everything came crumbling down on his head—which seemed only a matter of time—he’d need as much goodwill as he could muster.

  “Sorry.”

  “Well, let’s go get some pizza for lunch.” Joey’s father started for the Jeep.

  They were loading up when Coach Barrett appeared with the equipment bag over his shoulder and his son—thankfully—nowhere in sight. “Joey, can I talk to you for a second?”

  Joey got out of the Jeep and stood facing his coach. Coach Barrett glanced at Joey’s mom, who sat in the passenger seat but with the door open. “It’s about the all-star team.”

  20

  Joey couldn’t help wishing with all his heart that Coach Barrett was going to give him the spot. Part of him felt he didn’t deserve it, but Zach’s own words echoed in his mind. Except for today, he did have a great season, and no one hit more home runs.

  “So, I think you know this, but because we lost, we only get one automatic spot for the all-star team.” Coach Barrett scratched his skinny neck. “That’s just the way the rules are. Honestly, I thought we were going to win today, and it would have been easy. You and Zach both had outstanding seasons, and I think you both deserve to be on that team. But we didn’t, and I just want you and your parents to know that I’m going to do everything I can in the coach’s meeting tomorrow to make sure you get on that team, too. There are three wild card spots, you know.”

  Joey blinked. His mind went over what his coach just said, knowing what it meant but unable to keep from considering a different possible conclusion.

  There was none, though. He didn’t make it. Zach did. A small, desperate part of him wondered how it would have turned out if he hadn’t snuck out, “vandalized” Mr. Kratz’s truck, and Zach had never showed up for the game. Then, they still would have lost, but Joey wouldn’t have looked so bad and Coach would likely have given him the sole slot, especially if Zach didn’t even play in the championship game.

  Joey opened his mouth to say something, or start to say something, but his mom spoke first.

  “Thanks, Coach Barrett. We appreciate anything you can do. Joey’s been talking about this all-star thing and that select team since last s
eason.”

  “Well, I think he’s got a better than fifty-fifty chance. I can’t speak for the others, but he’ll have my vote. You folks have a good day. I’ll give you a call after the meeting tomorrow. We get together at three, so I should know by four or five.” Coach Barrett shook Joey’s hand and turned to go.

  Joey saw his mom giving him a look and he remembered his manners. “Thanks, Coach.”

  They all got in the Jeep before his mom said, “That was nice.”

  “Fifty-fifty?” Joey palmed his own face, then let go. “That’s terrible. Fifty-fifty is like rock, paper, scissors. That’s all I am? Rock, paper, scissors, shoot?”

  “He said, ‘better than fifty-fifty.’” Joey’s father met his eyes in the rearview mirror.

  They rode in silence for a few minutes before Joey’s mom said, “I just don’t get it. Why would someone go to all that trouble?”

  Joey’s dad glanced at her. “Because Joey’s been a great player for him all season.”

  “No, not Coach Barrett. I’m talking about Mr. Kratz’s truck. I just don’t get it.”

  “Well, it’s a good thing for Zach his truck broke down,” Joey’s dad said. “If the field trip didn’t get canceled, he wasn’t even going to be able to play today. Now, he’s going to the all-star team.”

  Joey’s mom gripped his father’s leg. “Jim, you don’t think . . .”

  “Think what?”

  “No.” She shook her head. “It’s too crazy.”

  “What’s crazy?”

  Joey slumped down in his seat and folded his arms across his chest, hugging himself tight.

  His mom spun around in her seat to look at him. “Joey, do you know something you’re not telling us?”

  21

  As a former criminal defense attorney, Joey’s father regularly commented on courtroom proceedings that made the news. Through the years, Joey had heard his father remark many times about criminal defendants who simply said too much.

  “Should have had a lawyer,” his father would say, twisting his mouth up in disgust. “Half the people go to jail just because they’re too foolish to be able to keep their mouths shut.”

  Joey’s mom would inevitably reply, “A guilty conscience will do that to some people. Most of the criminals I know, deep down, want to be in jail.”

  “That’s ridiculous,” Joey’s father would say, and the two of them would be off to the races.

  It was his father’s words that rang in his head like a bell right now, and Joey said only one word before clamping his mouth shut with the determination not to be foolish. “No.”

  “Joo-eey?” His mom drew out his name long and slow.

  He only shook his head.

  “What are you getting at, Marsha?” Joey’s dad asked.

  “You know how crazy Kurt is about all this baseball stuff, his stint with the Mariners and all that.”

  “Seriously?” Joey’s dad raised his eyebrows. “You’re saying you think Kurt James snuck out to Mr. Kratz’s cabin in the middle of the night, drugged his dog, then put a clamp on his fuel line so he’d run out of gas, miss the field trip, and his son could play in the Little League championship game?”

  “Did you see the grin on Kurt’s face when he saw Mr. Kratz? And when he was telling me the story? Kurt looked like he was about to bust out laughing.”

  “Well, it’s kind of funny.”

  Disgust warped his mom’s face. “That’s funny? Maybe to a criminal defense lawyer who’s used to working with murderers, thieves, and miscreants it’s funny.”

  “Murderers!” Martin screamed with delight, kicking his feet against the back of their father’s seat.

  “Honey,” Joey’s dad said calmly, “I know you like the guy’s blackberry jam, but he’s a tyrant.”

  “He’s passionate about what he does, Jim.” Joey’s mom scowled. “That makes him a tyrant to kids these days because no one thinks you have to work hard to get anything anymore. I see it every day. Look how much Joey’s learned in that class. Cell biology? Mitochondria, for God’s sake? Did you know what mitochondria were when you were twelve?”

  “A mandatory field trip on the day of the championship game?” Joey’s dad glanced at him in the mirror for support, but given the situation, Joey wasn’t about to stick his neck out. “And I don’t know what mite-oh-can-drake-ee-ah is even now, and it hasn’t hurt me.”

  “Mite-oh-con-dria. Sports are supposed to be secondary,” his mom said, “and I’m sure he set that trip up long before he knew about a baseball game. And it wasn’t mandatory. Joey wasn’t going. It was for extra credit, but my understanding is that Zach needed that credit just to pass.”

  “It’s a Saturday in June. It’s a weekend in summertime.”

  “I’m done discussing it.” His mom held up her hand, stopping all traffic like the pro she was. “But I’ll tell you this, I’m going to try doggone hard to find out who did that to Mr. Kratz, and—trust me—they’re going to regret it.”

  Joey looked over at Martin, who grinned wildly at him, then blew a snot bubble before popping it with his finger. “Boogers!”

  Joey put a hand over his own face, muffling a groan.

  22

  Zach didn’t give up. He texted Joey three more times, trying to get him to change his mind and even letting him know that Leah asked if he’d be there. Joey stayed strong, texted no, and shut down his phone. Still, he just couldn’t shake the image of everyone hanging out on the grass and taking plunges into the swimming hole. Gideon Falls had a dammed-up creek and an awesome swim area with a stone wall you could jump off into the deeper part of the pool.

  Instead, Joey studied mitochondria, the bean-shaped part of a cell that looked like it had a lasagna noodle folded up inside it. His notes called it the cell’s power plant because it made ATP, the chemical cells used for fuel. His dad was right. How important was that to know? It wasn’t, if you were going to sign a major-league contract.

  Joey slapped the pencil down on his desk and stared out his bedroom window at the sunshine baking the maple trees in the front yard. How did he expect to be a major-league player if he couldn’t even make the Little League all-star team, let alone the Center State select team? Zach was right: he should have gone to the park. Who in their right mind would sit studying for finals on a day like today?

  Then he remembered Stanford. That was where he wanted to go to college, one of the toughest places to get into and one of the best college baseball teams ever. He knew he needed grades as well as baseball talent to get in there, and that would be his best route to the pros. Not too many kids could do it just out of high school.

  Pork Chop streaked across the lawn and shot into the shrubs by the corner of the house. Martin stumbled along with a determined grimace and fingers flexing like eager octopus tentacles, hot on the trail. Joey’s mom appeared on the scene. She extracted Martin from the bushes, tucked him under her arm, and brought him into the house. Joey heard her shouting for his father to keep an eye on him before she got into the Jeep and headed off to Mr. Kratz’s cabin.

  Joey put his head in his hands and didn’t know if there was anything that could make his life more miserable right now. There was one thing, though—Martin. Joey tumbled out of his chair and quickly locked his bedroom door. He did not need cat poop or snot bubbles at this time.

  He returned to his desk, took a deep breath, thought of Stanford, and dove back into his notes. If nothing else, Joey knew how to work.

  When the Jeep pulled back into the driveway almost two hours later, he was grinding through a math sheet, multiplying and dividing integers. As his mom marched up the front walk, Joey talked aloud to himself.

  “A negative times a negative is a positive.”

  That’s how it was with numbers. Couldn’t the same be possible in real life? Could him blowing the championship game and being discovered as the vandal of Mr. Kratz’s truck—two clear negatives—somehow end up in a positive? He bit his lip until it hurt.

  �
��That’s math, not life.”

  The firm knock on his bedroom door belonged to his mom—he knew that before she even said his name.

  “Joey. Why is this door locked? Let me in.”

  23

  Like a prisoner condemned to hang, Joey slumped out of his chair, then unlocked and opened the door. He spoke in a low undertone. “I was studying and I wanted to keep Martin out.”

  His mother stood looking down on him with her arms crossed. The silence became uncomfortable enough for him to look up and face his executioner.

  Remarkably, her face softened. “Well, I can understand that, and I’m very glad to see you studying like this for your finals. I know it can’t be easy on a day like today. I’ll try to keep Martin out of your hair.”

  Joey tried not to look puzzled. He couldn’t believe she wasn’t at least scolding him, if not screaming at the top of her lungs about what a rotten kid he was for drugging the dog and vandalizing the truck. Something was wrong, or right, depending on how you looked at it.

  “Thanks,” he said, feeling her out. “How’d your thing go?”

  “What thing? Oh, Mr. Kratz. I got the sample and ran it over to the lab. Trust me, I had to pull some favors to get them to agree, plus they made me write up a report to cover their backs. That’s what took so long.”

  “Lots of work.”

  “And more to come,” she said. “I won’t get the report until the middle of the week and that’s only the beginning. No good deed goes unpunished, right?”

  “You really like that guy?”

  “‘That guy’ is your teacher,” she said. “I do. I respect him. He has a different way of life, but that’s okay. By the way, I think you should go to that dance tonight. It was one game, Joey. You can’t go into the tank over one bad game. You had a super season. You’re a straight A student. We’re very proud of you.”

  Joey couldn’t help thinking of the things that wouldn’t make her proud, as well as the fact that his all-star status was about as certain as a coin toss.