Fast-Pitch Love

by Clay Cormany

  "Why don't you put your mouth right on mine?" Jace asked with a smirk.

  "Because you stink like a dead skunk!"

  Jace laughed to himself. Even in earlier practices when he hadn't smelled so bad, Phoebe never put her open mouth over his. They both knew that would be icky.

  Phoebe went through her drill five times, and by the time she finished, she was doing pretty well, although Jace didn’t tell her so. It wasn’t cool to compliment a younger sibling on anything.

  Once they finished the CPR exercise, they sat on the floor while Jace quizzed his sister on first aid facts in the handbook. How do you treat a second-degree burn? What are the symptoms of sunstroke? What’s the best way to carry someone who is unconscious? How do you make a bandage out of a t-shirt? And on and on until their mother came into the living room.

  "Dinner’s almost ready kids, so go wash up and –" She crinkled her nose. "What’s that smell?"

  Phoebe pointed a finger at her brother. "It’s him, Mom. He put on a sweaty shirt to gross me out while we were practicing CPR."

  Jace met his mother’s frown with an innocent grin. He rose from the floor and dropped the handbook into Phoebe’s lap. "Don’t worry. I’m going to change it right now." Martha went back into the kitchen, and Jace headed for the stairs. Before reaching them, he turned and faced his sister.

  "I’m done being a CPR dummy."

  "Aw, it isn’t that bad."

  "Wanna bet?"

  Phoebe’s mouth sloped downward, and her lower lip poked out. "Don’t you want me to get my first aid badge?"

  Jace put his hands on his hips. "Yeah, I want you to get it, but I’m tired of helping you all the time. Have one of your friends give you a hand. I’ve got other things to do when I get home."

  Phoebe remained silent for a few seconds, her upturned nose and soulful eyes making her look as innocent as a lost puppy. Then, with sadness in her voice, she said, "If you keep helping me with my badge, I promise to help you with something you want."

  "That’ll be the day."

  Jace went to his room, took off the green shirt, and drop-kicked it into the laundry basket. Phoebe help him? The idea made him chuckle as he put on the camo t-shirt and headed to the upstairs bathroom. Oh, maybe when she grew up she could help him in some way, but what could she do for him now? Like the smelly green shirt, that question could be tossed aside.

  ****

  After dinner, Jace got into his mother's station wagon and headed to the library. Her assignment didn’t surprise him. For the past four years, she had coached a softball team of eleven and twelve-year-old girls and thoroughly enjoyed it. Besides giving her a break from her job as an immigration paralegal, it allowed her to stay involved with a game she played from childhood through college. He knew this season would be especially exciting since Phoebe would be on her team for the first time.

  When he pulled the station wagon into the library parking lot, Jace saw that the nearby swimming pool still throbbed with activity even though it was past seven p.m. Scanning the grassy expanse of Addison Park beyond the pool, Jace saw a man throwing a Frisbee which his dog would chase and retrieve. A small audience watched the dog’s antics and cheered whenever it caught the flying disk in mid-air. Not far from the dog show were four diamonds where softball teams, including his mother’s, would soon be vying for glory.

  Jace pushed open the library’s glass door, passed the circulation desk, and went over to the niche in the wall where the copier stood. A nerdy kid with mismatched t-shirt and shorts occupied the machine. An elderly woman with a book of Picasso paintings waited for the kid to finish.

  To kill time, Jace read over the roster. One side listed practices and games scheduled for the Valkyries, the team his mother coached. The reverse side gave the names of the players along with their respective phone numbers: Susie Alexander, Nancy Caldini, and Denise Davenport — Nancy he recognized as a member of Phoebe’s Girl Scout troop — Erica Fairchild, Heather Kazyniski, Kay Melnich, and Lauren O’Rourke. The last name caused him to groan. He knew from personal experience that Lauren was a hopeless klutz. During a Brownie meeting at the Waldron home a few years ago, the girl broke almost everything she put her hands on. That included a detailed model of a World War II B twenty-four Liberator that took him weeks to build. With Lauren on this team, winning wouldn’t be easy.

  Jace continued to read the names on the roster: Corey Powell, Dana Pritchard, Sarah Ramseyer. He knew Corey played on his mother’s team last year. She came from a large athletic family that included siblings who played on several varsity teams. Maybe she could offset some of Lauren’s blunders.

  Angela Simmonds, Tina Thornapple, Charlene –

  Whoa! Tina Thornapple? The name jolted him like a kick from a mule. Tina Thornapple? She had to be Stephanie’s little sister. As the name sunk in, Jace realized that little Tina could be his key to winning Stephanie. Maybe she would come to the games to watch Tina play. Maybe she would even bring her younger sister to practice. Maybe he could volunteer to pick up Tina from her home and offer Stephanie a ride to the pool at the same time. Maybe — Jace halted his runaway imagination as he watched the nerdy kid move away from the copier while the lady moved in to take his place.

  He looked at the roster again, this time focusing on the top, and what he saw rendered all his other ideas for winning Stephanie irrelevant. It had his mother "Martha Waldron" listed as the coach, and beneath her name was the name of the assistant coach — "S. J. Thornapple." What unbelievable luck! The whole problem of how to find Stephanie and spend time with her solved itself right there and then.

  The lady with the book of Picasso paintings finished her copying and smiled at him as she walked away. Jace returned the smile and then got to work, his grin staying in place. Once the rosters were copied, he strutted out of the library and across the parking lot to the station wagon. He continued to marvel at his good fortune. It almost seemed that God, or some angel, delved into his mind, saw his wishes, and then delivered exactly what he wanted right into his hands.

  Chapter Three

  When Jace arrived home, he found his mother sitting on the sofa in the den with a stack of green card applications on her lap.

  "I copied your softball team roster for you, Mom," Jace said, trying to be nonchalant.

  "Thanks, sweetie," she answered. "Just lay them on top of the TV."

  Jace put down the rosters and took a deep breath before speaking. "Say, do you need any help with your team this year?"

  "Oh, I don’t think so. After four years coaching, I pretty much know what to do." Martha put a rubber band around the applications and slid them into a manila folder. "Besides, the league assigns me an assistant coach to help with the kids."

  Jace launched his second line of attack. "But your team this year is going to be tougher to coach."

  Martha looked puzzled. "What do you mean?"

  "Well, Phoebe hasn’t played softball before except in the yard, and I’ll bet that’s true of some of the other girls, too."

  "But we’ll have almost two weeks to practice before the first game," she countered. "I’m sure the new girls will improve by then."

  Jace decided to play his trump card. "Mom, have you looked at who’ll be playing for you this year?"

  "Not closely," she confessed. "I did see that Corey Powell is on my team again, and Nancy Caldini is one of the new girls."

  "So is Lauren O’Rourke," Jace added.

  "Lauren is on the team? I didn’t notice her name." His mother seemed caught off guard.

  "Believe me, it’s there. Like I said, this new team of yours is going to be tough to coach."

  "What do you have in mind?"

  "Make me an assistant coach, too, along with Steph, er — the other assistant you have."

  Martha Waldron stood up and looked her son square in the eye.

  "Jace, why do you really want to help coach my softball team?"

  Jace gritted his teeth. On one hand, he felt awkward disclosing hi
s interest in Stephanie to his mother. On the other hand, she’d be more likely to let him coach if he came clean about his reasons. It was an easy choice.

  "Mom, I do hope your team does great this year," he said with a forced smile. "And, you see, I know your other assistant coach a little bit from school."

  His mother walked over to the television and picked up one of the team rosters. Her eyes went to the top of the sheet.

  "S. J. Thornapple?"

  "Yeah, her name’s Stephanie," Jace replied. "Her little sister Tina is on your team." He opened his mouth, but no words came out.

  "Go on."

  "Stephanie was in my history class this year, and she’s kind of new in school and, well, she’s someone I'd like to get to know better. That’s all." Jace felt his face redden. Telling his mother this was as bad as sitting on a hornet’s nest and not being able to move.

  "So you hope that if you coach with her on my team, she’ll end up being your girlfriend?"

  Jace nodded. "It’ll at least give me a chance."

  His mother remained silent for a moment. She placed the roster back on top of the others and then folded her arms.

  "If I let you be an assistant coach, there’ll be some conditions."

  "Sure, Mom."

  "But the first thing I must do is call the league commissioner and see if she’ll even let me have an extra coach."

  "Why wouldn’t she?" Jace could almost feel his plan beginning to crack at the seams.

  "Because the other teams might think it’s unfair for us to have two assistant coaches when they have only one."

  "When can you make the call?"

  "I have a few more applications to review. I'll call once I finish them."

  At that moment, Phoebe bounded in from the kitchen. She wore a Girl Scout t-shirt and had a brand new softball mitt on her hand.

  "Hey Mom, can Jace and I go outside and throw the ball around a little?"

  Martha shook her head. "It's getting dark and, besides, the two of you still need to scrape the dinner dishes and put them in the dishwasher."

  Phoebe's shoulders slumped, and the mitt fell off her hand.

  "Come on, Girl Scout," Jace said, brushing past her. "Let's get it over with."

  At the kitchen sink, Jace scraped the leftover food off the plates, and Phoebe put them into the dishwasher. They worked in silence for a few minutes. Then Phoebe gave her brother an elbow in the ribs. "What were you and Mom talking about?" she asked.

  "None of your business."

  "Aw, c’mon."

  "All right. I’m trying to see if I can help coach your softball team this summer."

  "Wow! That would be great!"

  "But Mom’s not sure the league will let me, since she already has an assistant coach. She’s going to call the head of the league and see if it’s okay."

  An impish look flashed across Phoebe’s face. "She’s calling tonight?"

  "Yeah, right after she finishes with her green card applications."

  "Hmmm…maybe I could listen in on the phone upstairs."

  Jace put down the plate in his hand and grabbed his sister's wrist. "You are not going to eavesdrop on that conversation."

  "Eaves — what?"

  "Listen on one phone while Mom talks on the other. Don’t you dare do that."

  "Don’t worry. I won’t get caught."

  "That’s not the point. It’s just wrong."

  Phoebe pulled her wrist out of Jace's grasp. "Cool it, dude. It's just for fun." The impish look returned. "Besides, I listen to her calls all the time."

  Chapter Four

  After placing the last plate into the dishwasher, Phoebe tiptoed toward the door that led to the den, stopping just short of it. Jace took a few steps away from the sink and peered into the den. He couldn't see his mother from where he stood, but he knew she had to be sitting on the sofa, finishing her work. "Phoebe," he shouted under his breath, "cut it out."

  Phoebe ignored him and craned her neck in an obvious effort to hear their mother start her phone call. She stood frozen in place for two minutes or more. Then she scampered back to the kitchen.

  "Mom's making the call!" Phoebe giggled through her words as she rushed out of the kitchen and climbed the staircase to the second floor.

  "Hey, come back here!" Jace ordered.

  He chased after his sister, going up the stairs and then to the door of the master bedroom. Peering in, he saw Phoebe sitting on the floor, holding their mother’s bedside phone to her ear. Jace glared at her, took a couple of strides in her direction, and then halted. What she was doing was wrong, but curiosity kept him from stopping her.

  Phoebe saw him and held a finger to her lips. Her face glowed with mischief while she listened to the conversation taking place between her mother and the league commissioner. Suddenly, forgetting the need for stealth, she jumped up and blurted, "Jace, you’re in!" Then came a pause and an "uh-oh," followed by a clumsy attempt to return the phone to the holder on the nightstand. But it was too late.

  Fast-moving footsteps thundered beneath them, then on the stairs, and finally outside the door. Their mother, her face flushed with anger, brushed past Jace and over to where Phoebe cowered on the floor. Reaching down, she grabbed her daughter around the collar and hauled her up to a standing position. An accusing finger flew out toward Phoebe’s nose.

  "You were listening in on me again, weren’t you?"

  "Yes, yes," Phoebe stammered. "I’m sorry. I won’t –"

  "Get to your room right now, and don’t come out ‘til I tell you to!"

  Martha released her grip on Phoebe’s collar and gave the girl a slight push toward the door. Phoebe scurried away. Still bristling, Martha glared at Jace.

  "And you –"

  "Had nothing to do with it," Jace said, finishing the sentence before his mother could. Then he hung his head and continued. "But I knew what she was up to and didn’t stop her. I’m sorry."

  Martha sighed and sat on the bed. "It’s my job to discipline Phoebe — not yours." She adjusted the phone in its holder and then motioned for Jace to sit next to her.

  "Well, as your sister already knows, the commissioner decided I could have a second assistant coach."

  "And that’s me, right?" Jace felt so giddy he had to resist the urge to bounce on the bed.

  "Only if you agree to some conditions."

  Jace nodded rapidly. "I’ll agree to all of them."

  His mother frowned. "I haven’t even told you what they are."

  "I’m sure you’ll be fair, but go ahead and tell me."

  "First, you will do what I tell you without any complaints or arguments. Do you understand?"

  "I understand."

  "Second, you must treat all the players the same. You can’t give Tina more attention just because you want her sister to like you."

  "Right."

  "And last, I want you to focus on working with the team and helping them improve. I’ll be spending a lot of time with the pitchers, so I’ll want you and Stephanie to work with the girls on fielding and hitting. But no hitting on her! If you want to ask her out, that’s fine so long as you don’t do it during a practice or game."

  "Sounds good, and don’t worry — I won’t let you down."

  Martha looked straight into her son’s eyes. "I know you won’t because I’ll boot you off the team if you do."

  Jace held up a restraining hand. "You won’t have to do that."

  "Good," his mother answered, but something seemed to trouble her.

  "Are you sure you want to do this?" she asked. "Our team has games scheduled through the middle of July, and there’s a tournament after that. The whole thing will take up over half the summer. Is that how you want to spend your time?"

  Jace struggled for an answer. His infatuation with Stephanie had left little opportunity to consider doing some non-Stephanie activities during the summer.

  "I think so, Mom," he said at last. "Maybe I’ll work some at Farrell’s or hang out with Stick a
nd the other guys sometimes. Go to the pool, do some running, even read a little. In fact, I have to read Little Women and Nineteen Eighty-four for senior English. And then cross-country practice will begin in August."

  Martha nodded. She still looked worried. "Let’s go back to the den," she said.

  As she and Jace went down the stairs, she added, "You’ll need to get a mitt and be fitted for a team jersey. I’ll cover the cost of the jersey, but if you can’t find your old mitt, you’ll have to pay for a new one."

  Jace winced but nodded his assent.

  Once they reached the den, his mother picked up the rosters off the television and pulled one out. "Our first practice is at five forty-five next Thursday on Diamond Number Two. Before then, I'll give you a copy of the league's rulebook. Read it cover to cover."

  Jace winced again. "But Mom, I played little league baseball for three years. The games are pretty much the same."

  Martha shook her head. "Not entirely, and anyway, being a player is different from being a coach."

  "But I always listened to my coaches and watched what they did."

  Martha didn't budge. "Jace, if you want to be an assistant coach — with Stephanie — you'll read that rulebook by Thursday."

  "Okay."

  "Now go tell your sister to come out of her room. You might also let her know that she won’t be using the phone for the next three days — no wait…" His mother cracked a sly smile. "I’ll give her that news myself."

  Chapter Five

  The next day, Jace and Phoebe tried to track down Jace’s old baseball mitt. He knew it was somewhere in the garage, but so were lots of other things: yard tools, flower pots, bags of birdseed, camping equipment, paint cans, old clothes, and loads of empty boxes. After a half hour of rummaging, Jace found the mitt under a garden hose. When he held it up, he saw tears in the webbing and holes in some of the fingers. Drops of water dribbled off the bottom onto the garage floor.