He had been pitching a beauty of a game this evening. The Beans, already disheartened by the loss of their assistant coach and the general poor turn of events that had transpired lately, had been dominated from the start. They had been playing flat, as Coach called it, with little spark or energy.
Nonetheless, they had managed to get a little something going during this final inning. Trailing by eight runs, it still seemed quite unlikely that they would be able to pull out a win, but at least they were putting up a fight. Maria had drawn a walk, and had advanced to second on a bloop single by Neil. Sara had moved both runners one base further with a grounder that had scooted up the middle of the infield.
Now, there were runners at first, second, and third? the bases were loaded, with two outs. Though Jack could not tie the game, even if he hit a grand slam, he could at least make the contest a little more respectable.
It seemed inconceivable that the Beans could win the game, trailing by eight, with two outs in the final inning. But they could still put a couple more runs on the board, and give their rivals a little less to gloat about. And maybe, just maybe? they could wipe a little bit of that smirk off of Jebediah's face.
One might think that this would make things easier on Jack. But it did not. The pressure just made it worse.
I can't do this, Jack thought. His aluminum bat, Excalibur, trembled in his hands. It now seemed ridiculous to him that he would have named his bat after the legendary sword of King Arthur. He was no knight, and certainly not a king. He was just an average ten-year-old.
It was impossible to believe that life had been so enjoyable only a few short days ago. Every day had been a dream come true, filled with friends and fun. But now? Now, Jack thought? all is lost.
Furiously blinking his eyes, Jack's attention was drawn to second base, directly beyond the pitcher's mound. There, standing atop the bag, Neil was clapping his hands with great vigor, and calling Jack's name.
"Come on, Jack!" he called. "You have this."
Jack blinked his eyes.
Neil briefly tapped his fist against his chest. And though what he next said was quiet, Jack could read his lips just fine. "I got your back."
Jack could not help but smile at his friend's enthusiasm. Okay, he thought, with a slow and shaky breath. Let's see if we can get things going.
Chapter Forty-One
You Are Not Alone
Sneering, Jebediah glared at Jack. He continued to rotate the baseball with his free hand, inside of his glove. The powerful muscles of his forearm twisted and rippled beneath the surface of the skin.
He stared daggers at Jack, trying to get inside of his head. With a grand flourish, he spat a huge wad of red bubblegum from his mouth, where it collided with the turf and bounced once, twice, and then lay still among the blades of grass.
Time seemed to slow for Jack. He saw Jebediah's face contort with effort, as he went into his pitching windup. His brow furrowed, and his eyes narrowed to slits. His tongue protruded from his clenched teeth, and his arm began to come forward, the ball clenched tightly within the hand that held it.
For the briefest of moments, Jack's blurred vision cleared. And in that slim window, when time seemed to slow, he saw the ball approaching. He could see it spinning as it came, the red stitches turning. And as that off-white sphere, mottled with dirt and grass stains, closed in on the catcher's mitt, Jack swung the bat.
He brought forth Excalibur, his breath caught within his chest, his eyes locked on the ball. And then, as if by miracle, he felt an impact traveling the length of the bat, into his hands and vibrating within his arms. He had hit the ball!
Jack dropped his bat, and began running toward first base. But it was with a great amount of dismay that he saw his hit was a sad one, indeed. It was but a weak grounder to shortstop, and would certainly mean the end of the game.
The fielder need only toss the ball to second or third base, to secure the final out. There would be no miracles, it appeared. Life was harsh, and the world unforgiving.
But something? something rather remarkable began to happen, right before Jack's eyes. Although the ball was poorly struck, and should have been an easy out, he saw something that lifted his spirit.
With their heads tucked down, and their heels dug in, the base-runners were moving. Clods of dirt were kicked up from the base-paths, thrown by the spikes of their controversial cleats. They sprinted, as if their lives depended on it. They sprinted, as if this game was not a blowout, but a close affair.
Each of them gave their all. They gave everything they had for Jack, for their friend.
Maria slid into home. The run scored was a small dent in the lead that the Summer Squashes held, but it was a victory nonetheless. Neil dove headfirst into third base, wrapping both of his arms around the bag, as if a drowning man clutching at a life preserver. And Sara slid into second, beating the throw from the shortstop by the narrowest of margins.
Turning his head to watch as he went, Jack had run through first base. The umpire waved his arms to signal that Sara was safe, and the crowd erupted in cheers. From the dugout, Nibbler barked in encouragement, his tail wagging with great aplomb, his furry face stretched into a canine smile. Coach was standing, clapping his hands, hooting and hollering with all the Green Beans who were in the dugout.
Panting, his chest heaving with breath, Jack slowly returned to first base. As he did so, he looked about the infield, to his friends, who were covered in dirt and dust, returning to their feet.
During the moment of commotion, when there was much applause and hullabaloo, he took the opportunity to wipe a hand across his eyes. A tear or two had escaped, but it was not from the despair that he had been carrying these past few days. It was from a feeling of gratitude? of indefinable happiness. Joy, from the realization that his friends were there for him.
It should have been a routine out. But it was not. His friends had refused to give up on him. They had put forth an effort that defied the very physical limits of their bodies, and of their abilities. They had given their all, for him.
I am not alone, Jack realized. And then, after a moment, a rather remarkable thought struck him, considering how glum he had been these past few days: And we will be okay.
Jebediah kicked at the mound in disgust, before resuming his place atop the rubber, to face the next batter. It remained extremely unlikely that the Beans would be victorious, though they now trailed only by seven runs, as opposed to eight.
But the outcome of the game now seemed irrelevant. Win or lose, it would be okay. Jack already felt that he had won. Games such as this were but a brief moment in time. Friendship, however? friendship was something far more lasting. And he had the best friends that a ten-year-old could ask for.
Now he understood why Coach wouldn't pull him from the game. In the face of such terrible adversity, they could not lie down in surrender. To do so would accomplish nothing.
Jack remembered, with a suddenness that was akin to the flipping of a light switch? baseball was fun. It was fun! They were a bunch of ten and eleven-year-olds. There should have been no pressure associated with the game. There should have been nothing other than excitement and joy.
He felt something building within his throat once again, but it was not the pressure of impending tears. It was the bubbling of laughter, and he heard himself begin to giggle. It was a welcome sensation, and a delightful sound.
He placed his hands atop his knees, and leaned over. There was a lightness to his breath, an excitement to his body. His joints felt airy, and his skin was tingly. It was a feeling that was at once new and familiar. It was the exhilaration of taking part in that which brought him happiness.
And when you are feeling down? when you are feeling sad? when you feel that you have not a friend on earth, and the weight of the world has become too heavy for you to bear? look to the forest, my astute reader. Consider all the marvels that remain in this world for you to witness.
And remember? You are not alone.
THINGS GET SCIENTIFIC
Two weeks have passed since the Green Beans solved the mystery of Hollow Oak, making remarkable discoveries in the process. In the wake of their findings, Jack has been placed within the huge, eerie manor of his new guardian - an eccentric uncle, known as Lefty O'Houlihan.
Before long, Jack comes to suspect that something strange is afoot in his new home. Weird noises, curious sights, and his uncle's odd behavior have led Jack to believe that all is not well at Lefty's Manor.
Seeking help, Jack finds that his friends are more than ready for adventure and investigation. Neil, Sara, and Maria gladly answer the call, along with Nibbler, the faithful Labradoodle.
From the rumors that the Green Beans have been able to gather, it seems that Lefty may have once been a brilliant scientist? until his 'strange genius' spiraled out of control, forcing him to part ways with his former employers. Now, the Green Beans are determined to uncover the truth behind Lefty's current scientific project? and what it may mean for the future of Hollow Oak.
THE GREEN BEANS
VOLUME TWO
THE STRANGE GENIUS
OF LEFTY O'HOULIHAN
GABRIEL GADGET
Chapter One
You Can Lean on Nibbler
His breath held within his lungs, and his ear pressed against the door to the basement, Jack listened closely. For a moment, there was nothing. Nothing in the stretching silence, but for the thudding of his own heart, echoing in his ears.
Upon further contemplation, he could also hear the tick of the odd, ancient grandfather clock, which stood in the nearby parlor. Its elegant hands, piano black in color, slowly revolved, marking the passage of time as midnight drew closer. The clock was a strange relic, in a house of similarly weird objects and items.
Had he imagined it, Jack wondered? Had it all been inside of his head? His lungs burned from holding his breath, and his skin felt clammy, cool, and peppered with goose bumps.
His dog, Nibbler, stood beside him, braced and ready to leap into action. The big, furry Labradoodle waited in equal stillness, his head tilted up at Jack in a quizzical fashion.
"Ah-roo?" the dog inquired softly.
"Shh, boy," Jack whispered to Nibbler, with a finger pressed against his lips.
As if sensing the gravity of the matter, and understanding that stealth was in order, Nibbler said no more. He leaned closer, carefully easing his weight, so as to not let his claws click upon the floors, which were built from durable lengths of maple wood. He pressed his own furry ear against the basement door, and his glistening, black nose quivered about in concentration. Together, the boy and dog listened.
As the silence continued, Jack eventually began to give up on the notion that there were strange goings-on occurring in the cellar. He slowly eased away from the basement door, and once more began to draw in regular breaths.
But then, just as he began to retreat from the door, the sound came again.
Thoom!
Jack's heart lurched within his chest, and his breath staggered. Caught by surprise, he briefly stumbled as he stepped away from the basement door, but Nibbler leaned against him. Jack steadied himself by placing a hand on the dog's sturdy back. Having regained his balance, Jack once more pressed his ear against the door.
Yes! There it was!
Thoom! ?Thoom! ?Thoom!
Jack felt the flesh upon his forearms and the nape of his neck crawling, once more alive with goose bumps. Every now and again, the strange noise could be heard from the other side of the door, down in the basement. Each time it sounded, Jack's heart seemed to leap into his throat.
Thoom! ?Thoom! ?Thoom!
Whatever it was that was causing such a ruckus down there, it was something of raw, savage power. Jack could not even begin to guess what it might be.
Now, at this close proximity to the door, he realized that there was another sound drifting from the basement. It was some kind of funky music, like nothing he had ever heard before. It was playing at a somewhat subdued volume? but it was still loud enough for Jack to hear, even at the top of the stairs, on the other side of the closed door.
And then, when it seemed that things could not possibly get any weirder, another sound joined it? that of laughter from the basement. A more precise definition of the laughter might have been? cackling. It was more than enough to generate hair-raising results.
Forcing himself to focus on the moment (a skill he had learned playing baseball), Jack took a few slow breaths. He pressed two fingers against his wrist, and was not surprised to feel that his pulse was racing.
But this was okay. In fact, this matter was relatively mild (strange as it might seem), compared to his recent experiences in what could only be called extreme weirdness. Once, there had been room (however small) in his life for things like fear. But there was room for such, no more. He had, after all, faced some of the worst that life could throw at him, and he was still standing.
In the town of Hollow Oak, Jack had recently become a celebrity of sorts? but his was a reputation that nobody would willingly seek. With his father jailed for crimes against the town, he had become an object of pity, and at times? contempt.
The only family that Jack knew had been taken from him, without warning or preamble. But what made the matter far worse was the fact that he had been ridiculed beyond endurance, by those who sensed a weakened prey, and were eager to strike. The worst offenders were the surly Cragglemeisters, who seemed to harbor an unrelenting vendetta against him.
Fortunately, Jack had the support of his friends. They had remained beside him, when others were glad to turn their backs. They were there for him? Neil, and Sara, and Maria? his very best friends. And there was, of course, the undying loyalty of Nibbler, who was a cold-snouted, floppy-eared, and thoroughly fur-covered friend like none other.
With such recent, trying experiences in tow, there was no fear to be gleaned from Jack. He had always possessed an aptitude for adventure, and his recent trials had only made him more resilient.
He had suspected strangeness abounding in this old, weird house, ever since he had come to live with the man known as Lefty O'Houlihan? a person who Jack had only recently learned was his uncle. Apparently, his father had not stayed in touch with Uncle Lefty, because Jack had never even heard his name mentioned before.
When Jack's father had gone to prison, employees of the state had gotten involved. They were searching for a home to place him in, but finding relatives had been a difficult task. As far as Jack knew, his father was his only family (other than Nibbler, but for obvious reasons, the Labradoodle was not a suitable caretaker).
After several days of researching, however, the state workers had discovered that Jack did indeed have one relative? the mysterious and eccentric Lefty O'Houlihan.
Chapter Two
Not Your Ordinary Basement
Jack had soon come to learn that Uncle Lefty was a man of a rather odd reputation within the town of Hollow Oak. He was known as an outsider, a recluse, and a man of what might perhaps be called strange genius.
It was rumored that he had once been a scientist for the federal government, lauded for his brilliance and revolutionary concepts. Far more alarming were the further rumors that he had been released from his employment with the government? following a breakdown that was a consequence of his strange genius, spiraling out of control.
None of this could be confirmed, however. There had been a great deal of secrecy not only concerning his research with the government, but also the terms by which his employment had been severed.
What could be confirmed was that Lefty O'Houlihan had managed to accrue a vast amount of money during his earlier years, whatever he might have been up to. It was rumored that he was an inventor, and that his royalties from patents he held for his various creations kept his bank accounts full. Not only did he now enjoy a life free of regular employment, but he had also purchased the vast, weird estate that he now resided in, at the outskirts o
f town.
It was a history (as you might imagine, my astute reader) that inspired very little in the way of Jack's confidence in Lefty. After all? when odd men from the state placed a ten-year-old with a previously unknown uncle who was rumored to have lost his job with the government, when his "strange genius began spiraling out of control"? it stands to reason that the available options were pretty darned slim. Jack realized that there might have been a very good reason why his father had never spoken of Lefty? it was entirely possible that the man was bonkers.
Jack, however, had done his best to embrace the change. It was exciting to learn that there was a relative that he had previously never known of (although Uncle Lefty had proven to be rather aloof and distracted). Jack was always up for adventure, and his new home was a place that seemed ripe for exploration.
The residence of Lefty was a huge, weird house, built hundreds of years ago at the edge of Hollow Oak, and it had been further expanded upon several times. At this point, it was a sprawling property, perhaps even reaching the status of a mansion.
It was filled with countless rooms and fireplaces, and Jack suspected that there were most likely hidden passageways located somewhere in the house. This conclusion only stood to reason, based on all the oddities that he had thus far witnessed, in the short span of a week at "Lefty's Manor" (as he had come to call it). He had seen much weirdness, and he had heard things within the walls that he could not explain or identify.
Needless to say, he had not been sleeping particularly well in this new environment, and his teacher, Ms. Waffler, had found it necessary to wake him from time to time when he dozed off at his desk. She took it easy on Jack, however, for she seemed to be sympathetic to the fact that he had been having a rough go of it lately.
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