“I will be careful, Mom,” he said. And unlike the hundreds of other times he’d ever said it, he really meant it.
His mother reached over with a hand, gave one hard shoulder a very gentle squeeze, and smiled. “Now, honey. Can you show me the wings?”
Roger stepped into an open area of the kitchen and slowly extended his wings, careful not to knock anything over.
“They’re beautiful,” said his mother quietly.
“They are, aren’t they?” said Marlene.
Roger folded his wings up again, proud and a little embarrassed.
“Just don’t take any foolish chances,” said Roger’s mother, as she and Jerry started to pass out the plates and the food. “And if you have to fly, do it where nobody can see you. You’ll be much easier to see up in the air. I’m sure your father will agree.”
“She’s got a point, Roger,” said Marlene. “We’ll have to watch out until we know more about how you work. And if you fly at all, I’d stay way below tree level.” She assembled a hot dog and a bun. “Pass the mustard, please?”
Roger picked his own hot dogs out of their buns and thoughtfully ate six of them. He didn’t eat any potato chips. Jerry didn’t seem bothered much by Roger’s munching mandibles, but Marlene, who had been sitting across the table from Roger, moved across to sit next to him and kept her eyes forward. Roger told himself that he didn’t really mind, but he wasn’t so sure deep down.
After lunch, practice continued. By the middle of the afternoon, Roger had a good handle on his talents and weaknesses. He could bat much better than before, and that was saying something since he had been the best hitter on his team. He almost never missed the ball, and Lou really earned his leftover hot dogs chasing down balls and retrieving them. Now, Roger was starting to imagine he could really convince his coach to let him play in his new form.
Once the glove issue had been worked out, Roger’s catching got better as they practiced. Throwing the ball was still a problem. He had a hard time wrapping his finger-like tarsus around the ball to get it out of his glove, and he dropped the ball way too often. This wasn’t as big a handicap for a first baseman as it might have been for some other positions, but Roger figured he wasn’t going to be making a lot of double plays.
Unfortunately, Roger hadn’t been able to improve his running much either. He was certain he ran slower now than anyone else on his team. Even Henry Ellis, the team’s slightly chubby catcher, could probably beat him around the bases without trying.
“I’m pretty sure nobody is going to let me fly around the bases,” said Roger, as he trotted in—too slowly—from third base and over the home plate, where Jerry was waiting.
“I’ve been wondering if the team is even going to let you play,” said Jerry.
Roger stopped and stood perfectly still. He hadn’t really thought about that. He’d been mostly worried about being able to play at all, and he’d come so far in just one day! He wanted to play. Needed to play. It wasn’t his fault this freakish thing had happened to him!
“They darn well better let him play!” said Marlene, coming in from the pitcher’s mound. She turned to Roger. “Remember three years ago when the Little League finally allowed girls to join?” she got a faraway look in her eyes and that thin-lipped, determined smile her friends knew so well. “I got a lot of grief when I signed up for baseball instead of softball, and I took even more grief once the season actually started. If I can take it, so can you!”
Roger and Jerry looked at each other. Jerry looked sheepish, and Roger’s antennae drooped a bit. Back then, they had given Marlene kind of a hard time at first too. Truth be told, some boys would probably have rather had a giant bug join their team than a girl. But Roger and Jerry had also been among the first to enthusiastically support Marlene when her determination—and especially her playing skills—became clear.
“Yeah,” said Jerry. “You’re right. Besides, show me in the rules where it says a giant mantis can’t play in Little League.”
Marlene looked at him, shook her head, and rolled her eyes.
“Dad said he’d talk to Coach Horowitz,” said Roger. “It’ll be okay.” He wished he was as sure as he sounded.
By now, it was getting dark. Jerry tossed a ball to Roger, but Roger didn’t even lift his glove. Behind him, Marlene snagged the ball.
“Hey, Roger!” Jerry yelled. “You asleep?”
“Yeah, Roger. You should have had that one,” Marlene said.
Roger wasn’t paying attention. He’d glanced at the woods while waiting for the pitch, and then suddenly his animal-spotting vision kicked in, revealing a deer and its fawn moving through the underbrush near the trees.
“Can you see the deer out there?” he asked, pointing with a claw.
Jerry and Marlene peered at the woods. “No,” Marlene said, squinting hard.
“Me either,” said Jerry. “You got telescope eyes now?”
“Kinda. My eyes are a lot better than they used to be. Now, anything that’s alive, especially animals, stands out. I can follow their movement really easily.”
“Maybe that’s how a mantis picks its prey,” said Marlene, tossing the ball back to Jerry. “Hawks see like that too. They can spot something moving hundreds of feet below them. Even something as small as a mouse.”
Jerry walked in from the mound. “Wow, Roger! You’ve got mantis ‘critter vision!’ You gonna go out and catch something and eat it?”
“No!” said Roger. “Stop asking me that!” That’s what a real mantis does, he thought. I used to feed mine live crickets. It ate them while they were still wiggling! I even thought it was kind of cool. Sure, I’ve been making jokes about eating people and stuff, but I never really ever … Roger shook his triangular head as he firmly shoved the idea of eating a cute little fawn right out of it.
“Well,” said Marlene, “the important thing is that you can get a bead on a baseball. I just hope Coach Horowitz figures out how to break your … condition … gently to the team at practice tomorrow.”
“Yeah,” said Roger, grateful for the change of subject.
“That’ll be worth seeing,” said Jerry. “Especially Julie. She hates bugs!”
“Aw, jeez,” said Roger, shaking his head again.
Chapter Seven
Sunday morning, Roger woke up early and confirmed that he was, still, a giant mantis. He’d been wondering last night if he would wake up a boy again, changing back overnight as suddenly as he had changed in the first place.
It had taken him a long time to get to sleep as he’d spent most of last night trying to find a way to comfortably lie on his bed. He’d tried squatting down like he had in the woods, but it didn’t feel stable up on a bed. Then he’d tried lying on his stomach and splaying his legs over the side of the bed, but that didn’t feel right either. Eventually, Roger settled on a sort of “dead bug” position: flat on his back with his legs loosely curled over his middle.
Roger couldn’t close his bug eyes, and he’d spent what seemed like hours with the lights off staring at the ceiling. With his improved vision, which worked just as well in the dark, Roger discovered more tiny cracks, fissures, and long-dead spiders on his ceiling than he ever thought could be there. He would have pulled the blanket over his head, but he’d found out very quickly that any covers he tried to use got snagged in his spines. The blankets had ended up on the floor.
But he must have dozed off at some point, even with his eyes open, because now it was morning and here he was, still a bug. Then Roger remembered how much fun yesterday had been, and to his surprise, he realized that a small part of him was kind of glad he hadn’t changed back. At least not quite yet. Especially when he remembered flying.
Roger’s parents decided to skip church, at least this once. His mother fixed him a nice big plate of pork sausages for breakfast.
“I noticed you had a little trouble grabbing the bacon yesterday,” she said, “but you can just poke the sausages
with your claws.”
“I poked a claw right smack through a baseball at the lot with Marlene and Jerry yesterday,” said Roger. “Sausages will be a piece of cake.”
“Poked a claw right through that metaphor too,” his mother said to his father.
His parents made small talk and ate oatmeal, muffins, and sausage, with Lou claiming the leftover sausage when everyone else was done. If Roger didn’t know any better, he would have thought everything was normal, but his bug eyes could see around him even when his head was bent over his plate, and he noticed the concerned looks his parents were giving him when they thought he wasn’t seeing them.
After breakfast the family went to the living room.
“I finally got a chance to talk to Jacob Horowitz yesterday,” said Roger’s father. “I was held up at the medical office, and I wish I’d had more time.”
“What did he say?” said Roger, scraping his claws just a bit. “What did he think? Did he believe you?”
“He said he did,” said his father. “But I’m not so sure it really sank in. Not where it counts. I think he’s still a bit skeptical. The pictures helped a lot, and my reputation with him didn’t hurt either, but now I’m thinking it would have been smarter to have him come over here instead to see you in person. I couldn’t manage that later on last night because an emergency came up at the hospital.” he looked at Roger. “I did my best, son. I’m not completely sure what you’ll be facing when you go out to the field today, but if I had to pick one person in this town who I think would be the most help to you, Jacob is probably it.”
“Maybe we should call it off,” said Roger’s mother uncertainly.
Part of Roger thought that sounded like a really good idea. But the stubborn part didn’t agree, and it came out on top. “I’m going to try it, Mom. If I can get the coach and my team backing me up … it would … well, it would be really great. And Marlene says I should tough it out, like she did when she was trying to get into the League.”
His father smiled. “Do you remember when Mr. Horowitz took up coaching Little League baseball in our town?”
“Sort of,” said Roger. “A few years ago. Why?”
“It was right at the time when Marlene and Julie first started trying to sign up to play after the rules changed. It wasn’t a coincidence.”
Roger’s mother smiled. “All we can do is hope for the best, son. Now go rest or something until lunch, and try not to worry.”
Roger spent the rest of the morning out in the woods again. It was quiet, he could think about things, and he wasn’t as worried and scared as he had been the morning before. Well, mostly.
He wandered around, looking at animals, flowers, rocks, and just about everything else with his improved vision. It was like he’d never really seen the woods before. Rocks had little shiny veins of color. Flowers had more colors than a 64-count crayon box. A rabbit hopped up close to him, and Roger could see the individual hairs on his face. Huge brown eyes looked at him with no fear in them at all. Roger supposed he didn’t look like anything in the world that normally chased rabbits.
Then, on the twig of a bush, Roger spotted—a mantis. When he began moving toward it, the mantis assumed a threat display, spreading its wings widely and throwing its claws up in front and to the side. Its transparent, black-marked wings looked similar to Roger’s. “It’s okay, little guy,” said Roger. “We’re all friends, here. Maybe even relatives.” Roger spread his own wings to compare the colors, and the mantis must have decided he was way too big to challenge. It quickly folded its wings, dropped to the forest floor, and ran under the bush. Roger laughed.
Eventually, Roger’s mother had to come all the way out to the edge of the vacant lot to call him in for lunch. Of course, it wasn’t like she’d never had to do that before. Roger had always liked hanging out in the woods and often forgot when mealtimes were. Lunch turned out to be stacked bologna slices, and Roger had worked up an appetite from playing outdoors. He jammed one claw through the entire stack and nibbled off it while his mother smiled and prepared another stack for him.
Later that afternoon, Roger, Marlene, and Jerry headed for the Little League field near the high school. They took the long way from Roger’s house, walking through the weedy fields along Perimeter Road at the edge of town to avoid the main streets. Roger’s house was way out on the east edge of town, while the high school was on the northern side, so even the shortest way through town from Roger’s house to the high school was a pretty good walk.
Roger watched for cars, and when one came along they all moved farther away from the road, and Roger ducked down into the tall weeds. There were a few houses in sight, but they were a good distance away. If anyone managed to notice two kids and a giant mantis walking through the fields carrying baseball equipment, nobody made a big fuss about it.
“Anyone seeing us off in the distance would probably just think something was wrong with their eyes,” said Marlene. She looked at Roger. “You sure you don’t want to just skip practice and stay home? This isn’t going to be easy.”
“You’re right about it not being easy,” said Roger. “But for all I know, I’m going to stay this way a long time, and I really like playing baseball. If I have to hide in my room the rest of my life and not do anything, it would really stink. If I can’t be normal, I want to at least try to do normal stuff. Right now, even going to school is looking pretty good.”
“That’s the spirit!” said Marlene.
“I don’t know,” said Jerry. “If school is looking good, maybe this change is starting to affect Roger’s brain.”
“I don’t know why you don’t like school, Roger,” said Marlene. “Your grades aren’t bad.”
“If my grades are bad,” said Roger, “my parents say it’s no sports for me. It doesn’t mean I have to like school.”
As planned, they arrived at the baseball field before anyone else. The Little League field was right next to the regular high school’s baseball field. Roger’s team sometimes practiced at the high school field for fun, but it wasn’t regulation for the real games. The Little League field was really nice though, with real dugouts and a roof over the bleachers behind home plate. The high school was across a grassy field to the south, toward town. The rest of the land outside the ball field fences was just grass and weeds until you got out to the distant fields and wooded hills to the north.
“Roger,” said Jerry, “you stay behind the storage shed with Marlene. When the rest of the team gets here, I’ll help Coach Horowitz fill them in.” Jerry then walked out onto the field and leaned against the dugout.
“I’m not sure Jerry’s the best person for this job,” said Marlene in a hushed voice.
“Maybe,” said Roger, “but he’s been pretty cool about all this. Maybe he can pass that along to the team somehow. He’s always the guy who keeps the team morale going. Remember that time he convinced the coach and all the players that Julie would be a great fielder? Or kept everyone laughing after we lost that big Centerville blowout last year?”
Roger and Marlene got behind the shed. Roger started fidgeting his legs, and he had to work very hard at not scraping his claws nervously together. His whole life focused on baseball, and almost all his close friends were kids on the team. If they rejected him, not only would he be off the team, but he’d lose a lot of friends, too. He only hoped they would take it as well as Jerry and Marlene had.
Marlene carefully peeked around the back edge of the shed, mostly hidden by shadows. Roger leaned out over her head far enough to put part of one big round eye past the edge of the shed.
“Can you both see the infield okay?” said Jerry.
Marlene put an arm out with one thumb up.
“Cool,” said Jerry. “Stay back there in the shadow, stay still, and I don’t think anyone will see you. I’ll wave you out here when it’s time.”
The Highland Falls Falcons began arriving, some on bikes, some on foot. A few got dropped off by c
ars. Roger identified familiar voices as they showed up and started chatting with one another.
There were a dozen kids altogether, and most had favorite positions they played; some had more than one. At least half the kids were “utility players,” who played more than one position. Usually, everyone managed to work out turns without too many arguments, and everyone got a chance to play where they liked. The coach offered advice on positions, but usually left it up to the kids.
Gary Miller usually pitched, but Roger did some pitching as well. Roger figured he wouldn’t be playing that position much in his current condition. He could whip a ball faster than anyone now, but his aim still stunk, and he’d be walking batters left and right. Or beaning them. Beaning? Heck, he’d knock their heads off!
Roger hoped he could still manage first base, but Carl Jefferson could play there too, and he was pretty good at it.
Marlene usually played shortstop. She could also play outfield, but she was such a fast runner that she tended to hog more than one outfield position at a time. There had been a couple of collisions last year when she went after a ball that really should have been left to another fielder. Ricky Esteban was second baseman, and Charlie Alderman played third. Danny Larson, their most versatile player, shared second, third, and shortstop. He even switched off with Henry to catch now and then.
Jerry almost always played right field because he actually liked it out there. You couldn’t have paid Roger to play right field. Chris Ericson, Mark McNeil, and Julie Clark switched off center and left field between them. Roger didn’t know how they decided who’d play what, but he’d spotted them once flipping a coin.
It seemed to Roger like he’d been behind the shed for an hour. Dad said the coach was “skeptical,” he thought, but willing to see what this was all about. I wish I was half as calm about all this as my folks are. But it was darn good to know some adults were on his side.
Finally, a big Dodge van drove into the parking lot, and a short, balding man in jeans and a sweatshirt got out: Mr. Horowitz, the team coach and school principal. Mr. Horowitz did not look very impressive. His face, with wire-frame glasses, was benign and rounded, as was the rest of him. He looked much more like an accountant than either a coach or a school principal, like someone who wouldn’t do anything at all to shake things up. His team, and the rest of the school, knew better. Roger thought that if Mr. Horowitz was worried about a giant mantis showing up at the practice, it sure didn’t show.
Roger Mantis Page 5
