“Come on, guys!” Wade called out. “Let’s double-play this!”
Psyching myself out over what had happened to Carson was getting me nowhere. To get my head back into the game, I focused on something my dad had said. Slow the game down. Look at it one pitch at a time. Casey wound up and released, and the batter made contact, directing the whirling ball toward third base. I ran past second to cover for Darren in case the throw was off. When I looked up, I saw Tom fumbling the ball. Hopes of getting a double play and ending this horrible inning quickly vanished.
“Get to your bag!” I screamed.
Tom looked up at me as the bases loaded.
I walked over to him, my frustration building with every stride. “Hey, Buster.”
“Adrian’s Buster. I’m Rover.”
“Like it matters. That was the perfect double-play setup. Touch the bag and throw to first or second.”
“I’m sorry. It was coming in fast.”
The Tiger on third base smirked, enjoying the fireworks. We fell behind another three runs before the inning died.
Back on the bench, I couldn’t sit still. I downed my water and mumbled to myself until Wade approached.
His eyebrows were furrowed. “Hey, I know that whole Carson thing was hard for you to hear. It’s going to be okay.”
“Thanks,” I said. But I didn’t mean it.
“Unfortunately, Carson’s actions make us all look bad.”
I couldn’t believe he’d say that to me, after all the crap he had pulled. “It seemed kind of personal the way you were going after Carson.”
Wade took a step back. “Hey, if you think I had anything to do with Carson’s suspension, you’re wrong. I didn’t do anything. Talk to Darren. Talk to anyone.”
I stared him down. I was not going to just let this go.
“Come on. We’re buds, man.”
Yeah, right. He might’ve considered us buds, but I could still feel it in my gut—Wade was responsible for taking Carson down. And I had to do something about it.
Chapter Six
It was Friday by the time Carson finally showed up at school. He came late, probably hoping he could slip into math unnoticed. When the bell rang to end the period, I practically jumped on him. I fired a thousand questions at him at once.
“What do you want me to say?” He started to walk off.
“Hold up,” I said. “I understand that you’re upset and dealing with a lot right now, but I’m your friend and your cousin. You could’ve answered my phone calls or returned a text.”
“I’m on strict curfew at home. They basically took away all my phone privileges. I had to write an apology letter to Coach Brigman, and the school is even forcing me to attend some group-therapy program. But you know what the worst part is?”
“What? Not getting to play baseball?”
“Well, that too. The worst part is Wade’s getting away with it.”
“He framed you?”
“Don’t act surprised.”
“I mean, do you have proof that he framed you?”
Carson shook his head.
“So what next?”
Carson shrugged. “Want the best of news of all?”
“Sure.”
“Those thirty days of suspension are school days, not including weekends.”
“What? That’s crazy!”
“Yeah. So I’m out for six weeks! I can’t wait that long. I have to find a way to prove that I’m innocent—”
I looked up as Carson suddenly stopped talking.
Wade rounded the corner with Darren. “How you doing, Sparky?”
“Like you care.”
“Seriously, we’ve missed you,” Wade said. “You’re a much better third baseman than Rover.”
Carson gave a half nod.
For a moment, I actually thought Wade might be genuine. Then he ruffled Carson’s hair with one hand and snatched his book with the other. “I didn’t know dogs could read.”
Darren howled.
Wade held the book up, examining it. “Twenty Thousand Leagues Under the Sea by Jules Verne.”
Carson tried to grab the book, but Wade held it just out of reach. When that bit ran dry, he opened the book and ripped a handful of pages out before throwing it at Carson.
“You didn’t have to do that,” I said.
“Get your mutt under control,” Wade said. He and Darren walked away, still laughing.
Carson’s eyes were glued on me. “And I’m not even on the team anymore.”
Before I could say anything, he took off into a crowd of students.
Friday-night games always drew the biggest crowd. Attempting to protect my .375 batting average, I stepped to the plate determined to smack the skin off the ball. The Warriors pitcher received a signal from his catcher behind me.
“Go get ’em,” Wade called out from the on-deck circle.
My feet and shoulders were square to the pitcher, and my knuckles lined up. The ball came at me and I twisted, shifting my weight forward and pushing my hands out front. The ball dropped and I adjusted my bat, swinging through and making contact. I dropped the bat and sped to first base, beating out the throw. A spatter of applause followed me.
On first, I took a leadoff and watched Wade enter the batter’s box. He fired off a couple of intimidating practice swings before sending the first ball into the wire covering behind him. Wade made solid contact on the second pitch, and I watched it soar over the yellow bar outlining the outfield wall. I lost the ball in a sea of palm trees and jogged past second base. At home plate, I turned to the sound of Wade calling out, “Lake Wade!”
As Wade rounded third, in full showoff mode, the guys in the dugout called out, “Ten!” again and again. Ten homers already?
Wade bear-hugged me at home plate, dragging me into his celebration. “Ten years from now, they’re going to name this field after me.”
It was hard to breathe in Wade’s tight grip. As I struggled to pull myself away, I couldn’t help wondering at his strength. If Wade had had the steroids to plant on Carson, was it possible he was using them?
As I walked toward my car after the game, I saw Wade and some of the team gathered like they were waiting for me.
“Red Sox are playing in an hour,” Wade said. “So hurry up—we’re going.”
“What?”
“There’s no school tomorrow, so relax. It’s spring training. You know, the Grapefruit League.”
Spend even more time with Wade? No thanks.
“You have to come.”
“Why?”
“Because you’re driving.”
I looked at Darren, Tom, Adrian and Casey.
“Come on, the other guys are already on their way.”
After Wade convinced me that his hunk of junk couldn’t take five guys, everyone squished into my Mustang. I pulled out of the parking lot and caught up with I-75 north to Fort Myers.
As we cruised down the middle lane, Wade found a song on the radio that he liked enough to belt out as loudly as he could. The words were wrong, the tune was off, and I was the only one who seemed to mind. When an old guy in a Mercedes merged in front of me, Wade hammered my horn until the poor guy moved over.
“Watch this,” Wade announced to the guys as he gave the old guy the finger.
A plane appeared below the perfectly white clouds. I sighed because it meant we were almost there. I took the exit for Southwest Florida International Airport, and the JetBlue Park came into focus. When we got inside, I slid into my fifteendollar seat on the upper deck of the Green Monster, glad to see the rest of the Sharks.
Casey leaned toward me. “If you ignore the palm trees, it kind of feels like we’re in Boston!”
“Also have to ignore the senior citizens,” I added.
Casey laughed. “Never seen so many oxygen tanks in one place!”
Wade stood and screamed at the Boston Red Sox, who were being whipped by the Toronto Blue Jays. “Let’s go, Red Sox!” He was the loudest person
in the cheap seats, smacking his fist into his glove, hungry for a ball. It was like he owned stock in the team.
Boston hit the field in the bottom of the sixth. I got up to get a drink and escape the heat.
“Where you going?” Wade asked from four seats over.
“Refill,” I said, shaking my drink.
“Let one of the mutts do it.”
“It’s okay—I need some shade for a minute.”
“Tom,” he said, “take care of this.”
Tom popped up out of his seat on command, but I stopped him. “It’s okay, Tom. Enjoy the game.”
Wade glared at me. “What’s your problem? He’s honored to do it for you.”
Someone behind me yelled for me to sit down. I felt Darren grab my arm and yank me into my seat.
“Hey, Tom, while you’re up”—Wade pointed to an ad on the side of the oldschool scoreboard—“grab us some Buds.”
Adrian got up to help and Wade told him to hurry back, reminding him that he was on standby to chase down any homerun balls.
I slunk back into my seat. Rafael turned to me. “Talk about a dream job. Hundred and sixty-two games, different city every week, private jet, hotels.”
“Playing baseball every day. No job at the golf club.”
“The fans…the groupies.”
“Heard they have an amazing pension and health benefits.”
Rafael shot me a look.
“I mean, the groupies.”
Rafael smiled and pointed to a Red Sox left fielder. “The only things between him and us are some college scouts, one to four years of a degree, more scouts and a majorleague draft.”
I nodded. “’Cause we already got the talent.”
Our quick high five was interrupted by Tom and Adrian. They each balanced a full tray of soft drinks.
“Where’s my beer?” Wade asked.
“Got carded,” Tom said sheepishly.
“You guys suck.”
The boys handed the drinks out to everyone. “How much?” I asked when they passed me one. Tom shook his head before holding out a spring-training Red Sox baseball hat.
“For shade.” He tossed it at me with the tag still on it.
The crack of a bat and the sound of cheering close by caught my attention. I spotted a fly ball making a run for the Green Monster. I stood with the rest of my section. When I realized it was sinking fast, I jumped out of my seat and stood at the edge of the wall, my new baseball hat stretched out. The baseball came in like a meteor, smacked into my hat and forced it from my grip. I watched my hat drop onto the outfield with the ball, Wade laughing the whole time.
Chapter Seven
As I drove toward I-75 after the game, my ego bruised, I tried to ignore Wade’s taunting. “The one that got away,” he kept saying, trying to get a rise out of me.
We were nearing the freeway when Wade shouted, “Turn here.”
“Why?”
“I gotta go.”
I turned right, passing a strip mall and a Wells Fargo bank before I found a secluded spot. “This okay?”
“Little farther.”
Manicured lawns and perfectly placed trees appeared on the right. That was usually the first sign that a golf club was ahead.
“Okay, U-turn it here and pull over.”
I put the car in Park, and Wade ran out. I took the opportunity to apologize to the three guys clumped in the backseat.
Wade’s voice rang out, “Guys, you gotta see this.”
I adjusted my sunglasses, a bit frustrated. “What now?”
Wade came back to the car and pointed to Adrian and Tom. “Get out, now.”
Darren followed, and after a long minute I killed the engine and slammed my door shut.
“Check her out,” Wade said.
I took a few steps onto a patch of uncut grass and saw a small lake surrounded by trees. The hum of the freeway could be heard in the distance. “What are you looking at?”
“That.” Wade pointed.
I took a quick step back when I spotted an alligator. Its thick tail was on the edge of the water.
“She looks hungry.”
“Whatever you say, Wade. Okay, everyone back in the car.”
“Hold on,” Wade said, examining it from afar. “You know, these creatures won’t attack unless we do.”
“He’s right,” Darren added.
Wade turned to Tom and Adrian. “You two want to get out of hazing for the rest of the year?” He didn’t wait for them to respond. “All you have to do is touch it.”
Darren was amused, clapping his hands together in anticipation.
“You don’t have to do this,” I said to the boys firmly.
Tom looked at me and then Wade. “Together or separately?”
“Don’t matter.” Wade looked at me. “I’m disappointed, Griff. Well, at least it’s clear who’s in charge.”
Tom stepped toward the alligator, with Adrian close behind.
“I want a proper touch,” Wade said loudly, probably hoping to get a reaction from the gator.
Standing there, I felt just as responsible for what might go wrong as Wade. I’m the one with the keys, I told myself. I could head out whenever I wanted.
The two boys were only three strides away. Wade and Darren were silently laughing.
I stepped toward Wade and muttered, “Call this stupid thing off.”
“Why, Griff? I’m enjoying the show. Question is, why aren’t you?”
I didn’t respond.
Tom’s and Adrian’s hands were now outstretched toward the resting gator, but my focus wasn’t on them. It was on the gator. Its large green eyes divided by black slits were watching back. Sharp white teeth jutted out of its elongated mouth. “You don’t have to do this,” I said to the boys.
A few inches from the gator, nerves got the best of Tom. As he flinched, the gator snapped the air. The boys recoiled to a safe distance, and I started to breathe again.
“You failed,” Wade announced. “This animal sensed your fear and you lost.”
“It’s a three-hundred-pound beast,” Adrian pleaded, tears welling up in his eyes. “So give us a break!”
“Nothing more than pathetic excuses—”
“Let’s just go,” I said, cutting Wade off.
“No. I know what these two are thinking.” Wade paused. “They think that I don’t have the guts to do it myself.”
“Yes, you do. Happy?” I took my keys out and shook them. “Let’s roll.”
Wade looked at me, his fists clenched and his jaw locked in place. Just when I thought he was going to come at me, he turned and stepped toward the gator. He crouched over it like he was taking a bow. He tapped its nose with his hand, and the gator’s mouth popped open, exposing its teeth.
Tom and Adrian looked at me and I shrugged, nervously playing with my keys.
“Put them away,” Wade said, throwing me a quick look. “Darren,” Wade said, staring down the gator, “get out your phone and record this.”
The gator closed its mouth and Wade tapped it again, reopening it. The boys applauded, but he wasn’t done. He used his other hand to press up on its chin, raising its head.
While Wade was distracted, I took the opportunity to reimburse Tom for the hat he had bought me. I slid a twenty from my back pocket over to him. Again, he refused to take the money.
Wade cupped the alligator’s chin and forced it even higher. The gator struggled to get free but couldn’t.
I knew how hard it was to save twenty bucks and felt bad that Wade had forced Tom to spend his money. As I rolled up the twenty-dollar bill, I watched Wade force the alligator back onto its hind legs. It was hard to tell which one was the animal. He turned to make sure we were all watching him show off just as I leaned over to tuck the money in Tom’s back pocket.
“What are you doing?”
I didn’t respond to Wade. The alligator wriggled free, and Wade stepped back as it snapped at him, barely missing his arm. The gator, also fed up wit
h Wade, turned and slunk back into the water.
“Nicely done,” Adrian said, sucking up.
Wade pushed past him toward me. “You’re a senior. Start treating him like the dog he is.”
“No, I’m sorry,” Tom said. “It was my fault.”
Wade ignored him and stepped closer to me. I could see my reflection in his sunglasses. “What is your problem?”
I stood my ground. “I’m tired of these games.”
“I’m saying this because we’re friends. You pull this again, with me or my two mutts, and I’m gonna take you down.”
He didn’t move and neither did I.
“Understand me?”
I felt myself tense up, and I had to decide quickly whether I was going to fight or back down. Out here on the side of the road, with no clue if anyone was on my side, the decision was crystal clear.
Chapter Eight
Monday morning, I stood in the school parking lot as Carson rode up on his bike. He pulled off his helmet. “Why am I meeting you at school at 8:00 am?”
“Wade is a conniving liar.”
“Tell me something I don’t know.”
“I’m pretty sure he’s using the same stuff that he planted in your locker.”
“So you aren’t friends anymore? What happened?”
“Long story.”
Carson nodded. “Look, I’m sorry for being on edge lately. Baseball’s my life. I’m going crazy having nothing to do after school.”
“I get it. Wade really crossed the line with me. Besides, I’ve been thinking. Blood is thicker than water.”
“So, does that mean you’re gonna help get me back on the team?”
I flicked my fingers. “Follow me.” The doors to the school were locked, so I hit the intercom button. It took two minutes for a caretaker to show up. I told him we were there for a debate-team meeting and were locked out.
He seemed skeptical at first but finally let us in after getting us to write our names down. We headed for Wade’s locker.
“You put down my real name?”
“No, of course not.” I took a long look at Wade’s locker. “I’m hoping Wade keeps his steroids in here.” I pulled on the door to see if it would somehow magically open. It didn’t. I pulled a piece of aluminum out of my pocket. It was shaped like a rectangle with a small triangle on top. “I found this trick on YouTube last night. It’s like a shim, made from a Coke can.”
Hardball Page 3
