Carter glanced at Charlie M. and grinned. Charlie grinned back, looking a little embarrassed but a lot pleased at the coach’s compliment.
“And three,” the coach continued, “we came the closest to beating them of any team they’ve faced in this tournament so far. I believe that if each and every one of you brings his A game today, we can walk away with the win. What do you think?”
The players cheered lustily. A few swung their wet towels in the air.
“Okay! We’re the home team, so take one last drink and get on out there.”
While the players gathered their gloves, the coach beckoned to Carter. “I wanted to pass along a compliment from the Pine Ridge manager. He told me that in all his years of coaching Little League, he has never seen a pitcher with as natural a delivery as yours. And I told him that I couldn’t agree more.”
Carter smiled, certain he was wearing the same expression of pleasure mixed with embarrassment that Charlie M. had worn a few minutes earlier. “Thanks, Coach.”
“Go get ’em, Carter.”
Buoyed by the praise, Carter hustled out to the mound and took his warm-up pitches. When the first Burton batter came to the plate, Carter felt more focused than he ever had before. The heat, the humidity, the knowledge that Burton had many strong hitters—all that faded into the background as he took the signal from Ash, wound up, and threw.
“Strike!”
He threw again.
“Strike!”
And once more.
“Strike three!”
The batter returned to the third-base dugout. The second Burton player fared no better. The third connected but for a weak grounder that Peter, playing shortstop, scooped and sent to Keith at first.
“Three up, three down,” Raj said. “That’s a nice way to begin.”
Unfortunately, Burton began that way, too, its pitcher sending Freddie, Keith, and Craig right back to the dugout.
The teams traded sides again. Carter’s heartbeat sped up a notch now, because he knew the first batter he’d face that inning was Marco Bellini.
A well-built boy who stood a few inches taller than many of his peers, Bellini gave off an aura of intimidation from the moment he stepped out of the dugout. He walked with the grace of an athlete and moved to the batter’s box with a confidence few others showed.
Carter watched him from under the brim of his cap. Every inch of him wanted to take the ball from his glove and hurl it back in, over and over. But Liam had encouraged him to control that habit, pointing out that it could advertise to batters that he was nervous. So instead, he took a deep breath in, let it out slowly, and stared down at the plate.
Ash flashed the signal for a knuckleball. Carter nodded, making sure to keep his face blank. But inside, he was psyched. He hadn’t thrown the knuckleball since the game against Pine Ridge. If Bellini hadn’t seen him throw it then, it was possible he didn’t know Carter had it in his arsenal.
Well, if Bellini didn’t know about it before, he sure will now!
He narrowed his eyes and adjusted his grip so his fingertips were digging into the seams.
Bellini hefted the bat over his shoulders and gave it a slight twirl.
Carter reared back and hurled the ball. His delivery was perfect. The ball seemed to jiggle as it followed a path straight toward Ash’s glove. Bellini took a monster cut at it—and missed by a mile.
Astonishment flickered across the slugger’s face for a brief second. Then it was replaced by determination. That determination translated into a hit on the next throw that sent the ball right back at Carter. But the blast didn’t have Bellini’s usual power. Without flinching, Carter stuck out his glove and snared the ball for out number one.
Carter faced Bellini twice more in the innings that followed. Both times, he struck out the slugger with his knuckleball. Both times, those strikeouts ended Burton’s turn at bat. After the second, Carter was certain he could see frustration etched on the faces of all the Burton players. He could understand why: So far, Forest Park had prevented the high-scoring team from earning a single run!
Burton had returned the favor, however. If Forest Park didn’t get on the board its last turn at bat, the championship would go into extra innings. Carter wouldn’t be on the mound then, as he had hit eighty-five pitches with his last strike to Bellini, the highest number allowable in a game at his age. If Forest Park had to take to the field again, he’d be watching from the bench.
The sun was dipping toward the horizon when Craig, first up for Forest Park, grounded out. Then Charlie M. got on base with a single. That brought up Ash.
Carter had never seen his friend look so tense. He closed his eyes, unable to watch.
Crack!
His eyes flew open. He’d been squeezing them shut so tightly, he saw spots. For an endless moment he couldn’t see the ball.
Then he did. It was coming down out of the darkening sky—and dropping behind the fence!
“Home run!”
CHAPTER
NINETEEN
Liam sagged back against his bed’s headboard and pulled out his earbuds. “They did it!” he murmured happily. “Forest Park is the State champs!”
As much as he had enjoyed listening to Carter’s semifinal game with his teammates, he’d decided he wanted to be alone when he tuned in to the final. He couldn’t explain why, not even to himself.
“Maybe you could picture the action better without the distractions,” his mother suggested when he told her about it. Then she smiled gently. “Or maybe, after weeks of being with your friends, you just wanted a few hours alone. I think we all feel that way sometimes. I know I do.”
Liam hoped to talk with Carter that night but then remembered that the Joneses would be traveling back home and that Carter would likely fall asleep on the way. Sure enough, he received a text from his cousin at nine thirty that night—twelve thirty Pennsylvania time.
2 tired 2 talk now, it read.
A second one followed immediately afterward. Now it’s your turn, doofus. BOL!
Ravenna faced the Southern California North champions, Hollyhock, at eleven o’clock Saturday morning. The team had anticipated a hard-fought battle, but to the players’ surprise, Hollyhock offered little resistance. Ravenna won 10–2.
And when it beat Hollyhock on Sunday as well by as wide a margin, Ravenna was bound for the Western Regional Tournament in San Bernardino.
Immediately after the game, the Ravenna players posed for their team photo behind the championship banner and received their State champs trading pins.
Coach Driscoll asked them all to gather in the dugout. “Sean, Owen, you can join us if you wish. You, too, Melanie, and, yes, you may bring your camera.”
He waited until they were seated on the bench, then he stood before them, hands pressed together under his chin. Liam had expected a brief congratulatory speech, but instead Coach Driscoll began to tell a story.
“Many years ago, there was a boy who loved baseball. He played on Little League teams and tried his best every day. But the truth was, he just wasn’t that good.”
“Hey, Dad, what’s the kid’s name?”
Sean’s question earned him an elbow in the ribs from his brother. “Idiot. He’s talking about himself.”
Coach Driscoll smiled and nodded. “I am. But even though I wasn’t good, I still loved the game. I learned everything I could about it: player stats, team records, history, situational tactics, you name it. I remember everything, too.” He tapped the side of his head. “Walking baseball encyclopedia, that’s what I am.”
“Can we quiz you?” Cole Dudley asked.
The coach laughed. “Maybe on the road trip to San Bernardino. But what I’m trying to say is this: that little boy never dreamed he’d grow up to coach a team like this one day. It is a pleasure and an honor to be your coach”—he paused for a moment to clear his throat, which seemed to have become a bit choked all of a sudden—“and I am looking forward to seeing just how far we can go on this
journey to Williamsport.”
Liam jumped up. “I’ll tell you how far we’re going! We’re going all the way!”
His teammates leaped up, too. “All the way! All the way!” they chanted. “All the way!”
Back home that night, Liam and Carter finally found time to video-chat. Carter’s first words had Liam cracking up.
“Winner! Winner! Chicken dinner!” his cousin cried the moment the connection was established.
“Man, if I had a nickel for every time I heard that,” Liam said, still laughing, “I’d—”
“—be a millionaire,” they finished together.
“Seriously, though, doofus, that’s awesome!” Carter said. “Tell Rodney congrats for me. Did you catch any of my last game?”
“I heard the whole thing.”
Carter raised an eyebrow. “Anything you want me to pass along to any of my teammates?”
Liam rolled his eyes. “Okay, fine. Tell Ash congratulations from me for that clutch home run.”
Carter feigned astonishment. “Hang on just a minute. Did you just call him Ash?”
“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” Liam grumbled good-naturedly. “I got tired of you correcting me all the time.”
The two chatted for a long time, cracking jokes and relating anecdotes of their experiences during their tournaments. When Carter told Liam what the Pine Ridge coach had said about him, Liam gave a low whistle of appreciation.
“Dude, you gotta take that one to the bank, because a compliment like that is money!”
Carter shook his head. “Yeah, I don’t even know what that means.” He gave a huge, face-splitting yawn then. “Listen, doofus, I gotta go. We have a ton of stuff to do tomorrow to get ready for Regionals.”
“Gotcha. Same here,” Liam replied. “Good luck, man.” He held up his fist to the screen.
Carter’s expression darkened slightly. It was such a brief flash of emotion that no one but Liam would likely have noticed it. But Liam did—and he instantly understood what caused it.
“Carter,” he said soberly. “I am so sorry I did the fist-bump with Phillip. That’s been our special thing so, yeah. Really, really sorry.”
Carter looked away from the camera and scratched the back of his head. “Um, listen, don’t worry about it. Because, actually, I have something to confess, too. A little while back I ran into Ash when I was about to take Lucky Boy for a walk in the woods.” Lucky Boy was Carter’s dog. The woods behind Carter’s neighborhood was the one place he was allowed to roam free without a leash.
“Okay, so?” Liam prodded.
“So,” Carter said, “I showed Ash the hideout.”
The hideout was a natural rock overhang in the woods. Liam and Carter had discovered it when they were seven years old. They’d kept it a secret from everyone they knew, including their parents. Over the years it had become their getaway, a place they could go when they needed to talk about important stuff.
Liam had paid his last visit to the hideout months before. Carter had promised to keep the overhang their secret. Hearing that Carter hadn’t kept his word was like getting a slap in the face. The hurt must have registered in his expression, because Carter quickly offered a fumbling apology and explanation.
“I’m sorry, Liam. It’s just that Ash seemed really down about something. Once we got there, he kept asking me about Dad and our relationship and—see, he doesn’t have a father and—oh, never mind. I messed up and I’m sorry.”
“What do you mean he doesn’t have a father? Are his parents divorced or did his dad die or what?”
Carter bit his lip. “I—I don’t know. I never asked.”
Liam shook his head. “Dude, the guy’s your friend. Stuff like that? It’s important.”
Carter looked miserable. “There just was never the right time—”
“You got a six-hour bus ride to Bristol, right? There’s your time. Ask.”
CHAPTER
TWENTY
We’ll see you in a few days,” Mrs. Jones whispered in Carter’s ear as she gave him one last hug.
It was early Wednesday morning. Carter, his teammates, and the coaches were boarding the chartered bus that would take them to Bristol, Connecticut, site of the Mid-Atlantic and New England Regional Tournaments. The ride would take six hours, landing them at their destination in the early afternoon.
“Pretty comfy,” Ash commented as he slipped into the seat next to Carter.
Carter gave a short laugh. “Trust me: They stop being comfy at about hour three.”
The players were very boisterous at the start of their journey, talking and joking loudly. Soon, however, portable music players, gaming devices, and cell phones came out of pockets. As earbuds were nestled into ears, the chatter dropped to the occasional low murmur.
Carter stole a glance at Ash. His seatmate was plugged into his cell phone, nodding his head in time to some unheard music.
Go on, Carter urged himself.
Liam’s admonishment had hit home. He knew Liam was right: The bus was the perfect time to ask Ash about his father. And if Ash didn’t want to talk then… well, at least he’d know Carter was willing to listen.
He nudged Ash with his elbow. Ash opened his eyes and took out an earbud. “What’s up? You need to use the bathroom?”
“Uh, no. Not yet, anyway.” When Ash continued to look at him expectantly, Carter decided to just jump in feetfirst. “Ash, where’s your dad?”
Ash’s jaw dropped. For a moment Carter thought he’d stepped over a line in their friendship. Then to his great relief, Ash started laughing.
“Jeez, took you long enough to ask,” he said. “Usually, it’s the first thing people want to know about me—after my name, that is.”
“Maybe I was trying to respect your privacy,” Carter said defensively. “But now that I’ve asked…” He made a rotating motion with his hand, indicating that Ash should start talking.
“It’s no big deal,” Ash said. “My dad’s in the military. He’s gone a lot, sometimes even as long as a year.”
Carter’s eyes widened. “When’s the last time you saw him?”
“Oh, we video-chat a bunch, so I see him that way. But in person?” Ash shook his head. “Been since last Thanksgiving.”
“So he’s never even seen where you live or the Diamond Champs or anything?” The Diamond Champs was an indoor baseball facility Ash’s mother had purchased and renovated last winter. Carter, Ash, and their friends were frequent visitors there, particularly on rainy days.
“Again, not in person,” Ash said in reply to Carter’s question.
“When will you see him again—in person, I mean?”
Ash fiddled with his earbuds. “I’m not sure. Sometimes he thinks he’ll be able to come home, but then…” He shrugged and put his earbuds back in, a clear signal that the conversation was over.
Carter turned his head and stared out the window. He tried to imagine what it would be like not seeing his dad every day. Even now, knowing that they’d be apart until his parents arrived in Bristol for the tournament made him sad.
He must have dozed off for a while after that because the next thing he knew, the bus was stopping at a fast-food restaurant for lunch. Ordering and eating took an hour, then everyone piled back on the bus.
Two hours after that, they arrived at the A. Bartlett Giamatti Little League Leadership Training Center, site of the upcoming Regional tournaments. Named after the seventh commissioner of Major League Baseball, the complex was less than twenty-five years old and included a huge dining hall, a recreation building, and dormitories with bunk beds for the players. When not hosting the tournaments, the complex was used to train Little League coaches, umpires, and volunteers, among other things.
Though the boys on the bus were curious about the facility, what they really wanted to see was the baseball stadium: the Leon J. Breen Memorial Field. Many of them had watched the previous year’s Mid-Atlantic Championship on national television. They’d seen the new and improved turf a
nd been told the outfield fences had been pushed back, making a home run more difficult but that much more rewarding to achieve.
Now they would be playing on the same field they’d seen on TV.
“There it is! There it is!” Raj cried, spotting the field in the distance. When the bus continued moving, he added, “Aaaand there it goes. Come on, Coach, can’t we stop and see it?”
“All in good time,” Coach Harrison promised. “But first, let’s get to the center so we can check in, okay?”
Hours later Carter was trying to get to sleep. He wasn’t having any success. It wasn’t that his bed was uncomfortable—he’d chosen the top bunk, with Ash on the bottom—it was that just as he would start to drift off, one of the boys would cough, or roll over, or make some other noise that jarred him back awake.
Same thing happened last year, he remembered. Back then he’d taken the bottom bunk and Liam had been above. He remembered, too, looking up that first night to see Liam leaning over the edge with a big grin on his face.
“What?” Carter had whispered as quietly as he could.
“We made it to Regionals!” Liam had whispered back. “I told you, didn’t I? We’re going to go all the way!”
Staring at the ceiling now, Carter felt a stab of homesickness. Such feelings had been hitting him throughout the afternoon, as he walked through hallways he’d last walked through with Liam; dined in the hall where he’d eaten meals with Liam; played Ping-Pong in the rec room where he and Liam had partnered up against all others; and even when he brushed his teeth, using the same sink he and Liam had both spit into the year before. He knew he would be making all new memories in the days ahead, meeting kids from all over New England and the Mid-Atlantic. He just wished he had someone to share those memories with, and to stand with him when he introduced himself to people he didn’t know.
Suddenly, he felt a tap through the mattress beneath him.
“Hey, Carter, you awake?” Ash whispered.
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