Double Play

by Tim Green

  It wasn’t a question.

  “No,” Daniel said, and only then did Cat turn him loose.

  “Hey!” Chris shouted from the water. “Dirk, do you smell something?”

  “Yeah,” Dirk responded in his own loud voice. “Something stinks!”

  “Smells like a couple of quitters! Ha-ha!” Chris and Dirk and the other boys all began splashing one another and howling with laughter.

  Daniel reached for his clothes. “Okay, let’s go.”

  No one said a word until they came out of the woods and began to cut across the park, heading back toward town. The sun was hot and the grass baked dry so that their feet scuffed up the dust. As they walked, Jalen looked over at Cat and was surprised to see a crooked smile on her face.

  “What’s that look about, Cat?” Jalen asked.

  “I’m just thinking about how good it’s going to feel,” she said.

  “How good what’s going to feel?” Jalen asked.

  “When you beat Chris in Boston this weekend,” Cat said. “I can’t wait.”

  59

  PRACTICE THAT EVENING WITH THE Bandits was held at the Bronxville Middle School field.

  Coach Allen greeted his two new players with a smile, looking up from his clipboard and motioning for Jalen and Daniel to join him in the dugout.

  “Sit down for a minute, guys.” Coach Allen pointed to the bench.

  Jalen twisted the strap to his gear bag nervously in his hands. The coach leaned forward with his elbows on his knees and looked sideways at the two friends. “Well, I don’t want to sound like I’m happy about this, but I’m happy for you.”

  He looked pointedly at Daniel. “Our regular left fielder, Derek Cantor, was skateboarding this afternoon at the park—which I tell our players not to do—and he broke his arm.”

  Daniel’s face went from confusion to fighting back a smile. “So I’m playing?”

  “Yes, but try not to look too happy about it when I announce it to the rest of the team, okay?”

  “You got it, Coach.” Daniel’s face was serious as a gravestone.

  “Okay, you guys get out there and get warmed up. We start in ten.”

  When they left the dugout, Daniel motioned for Jalen to follow him around back. When they were alone, Daniel pumped his feet and arms up and down like a madman running in place.

  “Yessss! Yessss! Yesss!” Daniel hissed before he grabbed Jalen around the waist, lifted him off his feet, and spun him around. “I’m a Bandit. I’m a Bandito.”

  The two of them laughed together and slapped each other a couple of dozen high fives before Daniel blew out a sharp-sounding breath and they jogged out onto the field like nothing had happened.

  When their new coach blew his whistle, the team surrounded him outside the dugout, and everyone took a knee. Coach Allen told his team about Derek Cantor. Then he introduced Jalen and Daniel as their new teammates, saying they were just in time for Boston the next day. He reviewed the practice plan for the evening before giving his whistle a short blast. It was all very businesslike, almost cold, and Jalen worried about fitting in.

  He fell in with the rest of the players, running the bases until they were loose and warm. On the last lap, Jalen failed to slow his pace, and when he got distracted by the new surroundings, he scuffed the heel of the player in front of him. It was Grady Gertz, and with his shoe half off, Grady tumbled down the baseline in a cloud of dust. Jalen pulled up and felt the horror of messing up their team’s star pitcher before practice had even begun.

  Everything stopped, and no one said a word.

  Jalen instinctively offered Gertz a helpful hand.

  Stunned, Gertz looked up at Jalen, his eyes on fire. Jalen’s hand hung in the air between them like a piece of dirty laundry.

  From right behind him, Jalen heard Daniel mutter, “Oh, hot sauce.”

  60

  GERTZ’S EYES WENT BACK AND forth from Jalen’s hand to his face before he took the hand and let Jalen pull him to his feet. Gertz examined his legs as he dusted off, then looked up at Jalen with a smile. “Don’t worry, I’m fine. Just make sure you run the bases this fast in Boston. We’ll score two extra runs a game if you do.”

  Jalen wanted to hug the other kid, but instead he nodded like a happy fool and said, “You got it.”

  Practice wasn’t much different from the ones they had with the Rockets, except that Coach Allen and his assistant, Coach Miller, a heavyset man with a pale bald head, didn’t yell as much. When they did raise their voices, it was to praise someone, and that felt good to Jalen when he ripped eight line drives in a row during live batting practice against Gertz.

  “Awesome!” Coach Allen hollered.

  When his turn was up, the coach took Jalen aside. “Were you doing that genius thing with Gertz?”

  Jalen smiled. “His changeup is brutal unless you know it’s coming.”

  “And you knew?” The coach raised his eyebrows. “That’s pretty amazing. Okay, get out there in the field.”

  After practice, Gertz tapped Jalen on the shoulder. “We’re all going to Häagen-Dazs. You guys should come.”

  “Thanks.” Jalen looked at Daniel. “Will your father let us?”

  “My dad?” Daniel beamed with pride. “If he’s within a hundred miles of some dulce de leche, he’s there.”

  “Great,” said Gertz. “It’s right on the corner of Park Place and Pondfield. We’ll see you guys there.”

  Daniel’s father took them to the ice cream shop, parking on the street a couple of blocks away. Despite the fading daylight, the town was teeming with people, young and old, and there was a long line for ice cream that went halfway down the block. Gertz was well ahead of them in line with a handful of other Bandits players, but he came back to where they stood and said, “Why don’t I order for you guys. Mr. Bellone, I already know you want dulce de leche.”

  Gertz took all their orders and accepted a twenty-dollar bill Daniel’s dad insisted he take before they left the line to wait outside the store’s exit. Gertz brought their ice cream out to them before returning with his own. Four other players trailed behind him. Everyone seemed to take their lead from Gertz, and they all fell into an easy conversation about whether the Yankees or Red Sox had the greatest franchise in baseball history.

  The team’s catcher, Justin Fanwell, who they all called “Fanny,” led the minority who were as devoted to the Sox as the others were to the Yankees. Fanny was built like a brick, stout and solid, and his cheeks went red at the mention of the curse of the Bambino.

  “Ted Williams was ten times the player Babe Ruth was,” said Fanny, setting off a chorus of jeers from the Yankees fans. “Last I checked, .344 is better than .342.”

  “Yeah, but seven hundred fourteen is way better than five hundred twenty-one!” someone shouted.

  “Home runs do mean more than batting average.” Gertz held his raspberry sherbet ice cream cone up like a king’s scepter. “Championships are what it’s all about, and the Babe won seven.”

  “Three with Boston!” Fanny pumped a fist in the air.

  “Yankees have twenty-seven titles!” Daniel was so excited, he smudged his nose with cookies and cream. “Boston has eight!”

  “Let’s talk twenty-first century,” argued Fanny. “Boston leads 3–2 in modern times.”

  And so it went.

  The sky beyond the glow of the streetlights had faded to black by the time they’d finished their ice cream, said good-bye, and returned to Daniel’s father’s truck for the ride home.

  “That’s a nice group of boys,” Daniel’s father said as he steered his truck onto the parkway. “Do you like them as much as the guys on the Rockton team?”

  Daniel turned around from the front seat to make a crazy face at Jalen before they both burst out laughing.

  “You two,” Daniel’s father said, shaking his head, “todos locos.”

  The Silver Liner was hopping when they drove past. Even though it was nearly ten o’clock, new customers w
ere arriving in their cars and SUVs.

  “You’re gonna be rich,” Daniel said. “There’s gonna be a Silver Liner in every city soon, amigo.”

  Jalen didn’t comment, but he felt a bubble of joy in his throat. After thanking Daniel’s father for the ride and giving his buddy a final fist bump, he let himself into his home. He had just turned on the light in his bedroom when his phone began to buzz.

  It was JY, and after hello he said, “I got some good news and some bad news. I’m going to give you the good news first.”

  Before Jalen could remind him that it was always best to hear the bad news first, JY continued.

  “I just got off the phone with Emery. She found your mom’s parents . . . your grandparents.”

  61

  JALEN GRABBED THE FRAMED PICTURE of his mother from its shelf. Holding it in one hand and his phone in the other, he paced the floor and held his breath, because as good as that news was, he knew some bad news was coming. He waited, and finally JY exhaled and said, “The bad news is—and I’m sorry—they passed three years ago in a car accident.”

  Jalen’s heart froze. He studied the picture of her face, the big dark eyes, the pretty straight nose, and tried to ignore the crashing sound in his head. “What about . . . my mom?”

  “So, good news and bad news there, too.”

  Jalen swallowed the panic bubbling up in his throat. “Bad news first. Please.”

  “Emery hasn’t found her yet, that’s the bad news. Good news is that she wasn’t with them in the crash. Also, the obituary in the newspaper—it’s a paper down in Charleston, South Carolina—said they were survived by their only daughter, Elizabeth, who lived in London, England.”

  “So Emery’s close to finding her?” Jalen asked.

  “She told me pretty specifically to say to you that you shouldn’t get your hopes up. It’s always harder, I guess, to find someone when they’ve left the country. And it’s been three years, so a lot could have happened.”

  Jalen felt a weight in his stomach. “Like a car crash.”

  “Yeah, but probably not.”

  “How are you doing?” Jalen asked, remembering his manners.

  “Me? Not bad, except that I should be the one stepping up to the plate right now instead of Charlie Cunningham. Look at that kid. He doesn’t even have to shave.”

  “You’re watching the game?”

  “I stepped into the clubhouse,” JY said. “And . . . Oh, crap.”

  “What happened?”

  “He just hit a double. I better go. I’ve been putting some bad mojo out there, and he didn’t have a hit until I came in here. Darn it.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “Not your fault, but I want to get my mojo going again. Maybe he’ll get thrown out on a steal?” JY cleared his throat. “Hey, don’t hate me for rooting against my own teammate, okay? I’m not proud of it, but when you’re in the pros, you can’t help it when someone on their way up is trying to take your job.”

  “I get it,” said Jalen.

  “Well, you will one day anyway. Talk to you later.”

  JY hung up, and Jalen replayed the second baseman’s final words in his mind before he spoke out loud to the picture in his hands.

  “One day, Mom. He said, ‘one day.’ ”

  62

  JALEN PUT THE PICTURE DOWN, feeling silly.

  Who talked to a picture? A crazy kid, that was who.

  He got into bed and opened his book. He read nearly thirty pages before he felt tired enough to turn off the light, and even then, he didn’t fall asleep for a long time.

  The next day, Friday, he helped his dad out at the diner in the early morning before getting a ride from Daniel’s dad to Bronxville.

  “I really liked practice yesterday,” Daniel said as they rode along in his father’s truck.

  “You gotta practice to get better,” Jalen said.

  “Yeah, but I mean I like it with the Bandits, everyone being so nice.”

  “It’s a big difference, right?” Jalen said.

  When they arrived at Bronxville Middle School, where the bus was to pick them up, Jalen wondered how it would be, going to Boston. Was last night’s friendly atmosphere a fluke?

  While they were waiting for the bus, Jalen asked Gertz about the Häagen-Dazs. “You guys do that every night?”

  “No one ever died from eating too much ice cream,” Gertz said.

  A couple of guys around him laughed at that and repeated it.

  “Yeah,” said Daniel, joining in, “not like doughnuts.”

  “Doughnuts?” Fanny wrinkled his brow.

  “This guy in Denver tried to eat a half-pound doughnut in eighty seconds.” Daniel made a throat-cutting gesture and chuckled. “Gonzo. Choked to death. Can’t happen with ice cream, though. Ice cream melts.”

  “And you think that’s funny?” Fanny asked. “That’s pretty weird, if you do.”

  Everyone stopped laughing and looked at Fanny’s scrunched-up freckled face.

  “Easy, Fanny,” said Gertz. “We’re all just kidding.”

  And just like that, Jalen felt like he was back with the Rockets.

  “Yeah?” Fanny ignored Gertz and pointed his thumb at Jalen as he stared down Daniel. “You know what I think about you and your buddy here?”

  Daniel shifted his stance and raised his chin. “No. What?”

  63

  FANNY HELD UP A HIGH five and grinned. “I’d say you fit right in with the rest of us weirdos.”

  Everyone laughed, and they began to call out Fanny’s name in a way Jalen knew was an old routine.

  “That’s my Fanny!” someone called.

  “No, that’s my Fanny!”

  “Keep your hands off my Fanny!”

  “That’s one freckled Fanny!”

  “Everyone loves a red-haired Fanny!”

  Laughter finally drowned out the shouts, and the bus arrived.

  On their way across the parking lot to the bus, Jalen whispered, “I was worried for a minute there with that choking thing. It was like we were back with the Rockets.”

  “The Rockets are rotten,” Daniel said. “I knew he was kidding. This is what a team is supposed to be, laughing and joking.”

  “You knew?” Jalen shook his head. “You mean that wasn’t the beginning of a flying-crane stance you were in?”

  “What would you know about a flying crane?”

  “Only what you tell me.” Jalen tossed his gear into the belly of the bus.

  “Kung fu can’t be contained,” Daniel said. “I wasn’t concerned, but my kung fu sometimes takes over so that I’m always prepared.”

  “Oh, I get it.” Jalen bit back a smile, and they piled onto the bus.

  The long ride was filled with laughs and joking. At some point, Daniel moved to sit with Fanny, and Jalen wound up with Gertz.

  They were getting along great. Still, Jalen was surprised when Gertz nudged him and said, “Hey, Jalen. How about you and me room together in Boston? I know you and Daniel are best friends, but he can room with Fanny, and that way you guys can learn the ropes.”

  “Yeah, that sounds great. Let me just make sure with Daniel, okay?”

  Daniel was busy watching Fanny show him how to fold a handbill into a streamlined paper airplane, and Jalen couldn’t catch his attention.

  “If he’s not cool with it, that’s okay too,” Gertz said. “I was just thinking it’d help you guys feel like part of the team more, since the rest of us have been playing together for a couple years already.”

  When Jalen was sitting with Daniel again, he got to ask the question.

  Daniel laughed. “That’s funny. I was going to ask you the same thing. I didn’t want to hurt your feelings, but Fanny said he could help me get the lay of the land so I didn’t feel like a rookie. Jalen? Who are these guys?”

  Jalen sighed. “I don’t know, but I’m glad we found them.”

  “Well, technically they found you.”

  “You think most t
eams are like this?” Jalen asked. “Ice cream and laughing and friendly, or like the Rockets?”

  Daniel said, “I think this is exactly what a team is supposed to be like.”

  They rode for a few moments just looking at each other, until Jalen asked, “You thinking what I’m thinking?”

  “How good it’ll be if we play the Rockets at this tournament?” Daniel said.

  “Not just play them,” Jalen said. “How about if we beat their pants off?”

  64

  THE BUS FINALLY REACHED BOSTON, and the Bandits got off at the Charles Hotel in Cambridge, right near Harvard Square. There was a Shake Shack around the corner, and the ball fields were a short walk across the Anderson Memorial Bridge. Cat and her mom were going to be staying at the same hotel so Cat could keep the books for the team during their games.

  During the ride, Cat had been texting back and forth with Jalen to keep him up to speed on JY and what the three-day Boston trip was looking like for him. Jalen was hoping JY would get into the lineup that night, because his own team didn’t have a game until Saturday morning. If he could help JY during the Yankees game Friday night, he might have the rest of the weekend to focus on his own team, but that wasn’t to be. Cat texted to tell him that JY wouldn’t be in the lineup until Sunday’s game at one p.m.

  “Look.” Jalen showed Daniel his phone. “They’re playing JY against Porcello on Sunday.”

  “Well, he figured that,” Daniel said as they grabbed their bags from under the bus. “So, why do you look like the world ends in sixty seconds?”

  Jalen pulled up a document on his phone that showed the 13U Boston tournament schedule. He held it up for Daniel to see. “Look when the championship game is.”

  “Oh, wow,” Daniel said. “Three o’clock. You won’t be done with the Yankees by then. And . . . the Rockets are in the other bracket? So if we play them at all, it’ll be in the championship.”

  Jalen bit his lip and filed inside with the rest of the team to get his room key.

  “What are you gonna do?” Daniel asked. “Tell JY you can only help for the first half of the game?”