Super-sized Slugger

by Cal Ripken Jr.

  “Dude, he’ll pound you like a bad piece of meat,” Jordy had said.

  “Break you into little pieces,” Connor had added.

  “Yeah,” Willie had said, “then break those little pieces into little pieces.”

  “Thanks for the vote of confidence,” Cody had said glumly, taking a bite of his sandwich.

  “Plus, don’t forget the Rottweiler Twins,” Jordy had added. “Even if, by some miracle, you manage to get Dante to back down, he’ll sic his crazy brothers on you.”

  But sitting here now with Jessica, as twilight descended and the first chirping of crickets could be heard, Cody had already made up his mind. It was time to stand up to the big guy.

  “I have a plan.…” Cody said now. Jessica was sitting with her knees curled under her chin, rocking back and forth, and now she looked up.

  “Actually, it’s something my dad thought up,” Cody continued. “And by the way? It’s designed to help me not get my butt whipped.”

  He explained the plan to Jessica exactly as it had been explained to him, beginning with the three sentences his dad had scribbled on the napkin in the restaurant near Camden Yards.

  When he was through, Jessica was silent. She sat there with her brow furrowed, looking off into the distance, as if considering all the ramifications of what Cody had just proposed.

  Well, he thought, at least she’s not doubled over with laughter. At least she didn’t blurt out, “Wow, that might be the stupidest thing I ever heard!” That was encouraging—sort of.

  Finally, Jessica nodded almost imperceptibly. “You know,” she said, “it just might work. In fact, seeing how Dante reacted when I kicked him with all the kids watching, I’d say it will work.”

  Hearing this, Cody felt relieved. The two of them climbed to their feet and exchanged a fist bump.

  “When will you try out this so-called plan?” Jessica asked.

  “Tomorrow,” Cody said. “Right after school. I’ve put it off long enough.”

  Cody awoke before dawn the next morning, unable to get back to sleep. He had tossed and turned for much of the night, finding it nearly impossible to shut off his brain as dozens of different “what if” scenarios ran through his head.

  What if this crazy plan of his dad’s didn’t work? What if all it did was make Dante even angrier? What if the big guy decided to whack him like a piñata right then and there? Good luck sending up a Bat-Signal to Jessica.

  No, in a cruel bit of irony, Jessica would be at her karate class by 2:45. And what could she do even if she knew Cody was getting pummeled? Raise her hand and say, “Sensei, may I be excused to go save my not-so-chubby friend from Milwaukee again?”

  Not so chubby—that doesn’t sound bad, Cody thought. Even in his wired state, it made him smile.

  All morning in school, he could barely pay attention. In Ms. Wratched’s science class, he completely zoned out. Part of that had to do with Ms. Wratched, who spoke in a low, droning monotone and who had been deemed the Most Boring Teacher Ever by much of the eighth grade. But part of it was Cody’s out-of-control imagination, which kept picturing Dante’s fist crashing into his face like some kind of killer asteroid.

  At lunch, Cody plopped down next to Jordy, Connor, and Willie at their usual table.

  “I have an announcement,” Cody said, rustling through his lunch bag. “Today is D-day. And you know who the D stands for.”

  Three pairs of eyebrows shot up at once.

  “Dude, didn’t we go over this?” Jordy said. “Didn’t we say he’ll pound you like a—”

  “Bad piece of meat. I know, I know…” Cody said. He shook his head firmly. “It’s still D-day.”

  His three friends looked at one another with alarm.

  “Will you talk to the boy?” Willie said to Connor. “Tell him he’s not just walking into the jaws of death, he’s sprinting?”

  Connor started to speak, but Cody held up a hand.

  “I don’t intend to get my butt whupped,” he said. “Sure, it could happen. But I’m hoping to use psychology.”

  “Psychology,” Willie repeated. He looked incredulously at Jordy and Connor, then back to Cody. “How about if Dante uses physics? Such as Newton’s Third Law: for every action, there’s an equal and opposite reaction? Like, you come near him and he punches your lights out?”

  Cody gulped. But he tried to keep his voice even.

  “I think I’ll be okay,” he said, taking a bite of an apple. “Besides, look what I’m eating now instead of cookies. Getting in fighting shape!”

  Hearing himself talk so boldly about a showdown with Dante, Cody felt like the proverbial kid whistling past a graveyard. But there was no sense getting into the details of his plan right now. Or when he would execute it. His buddies wouldn’t understand. Or they’d think he was nuts and try to talk him out of it.

  Soon the conversation shifted away from Dante to a new video game, Wipeout on 64th St., where the hero surfer navigated his board through a grim urban obstacle course filled with menacing villains. Cody sighed and looked out the window. Even though it was a warm sunny day, he felt a shiver go through him. Wish the only thing I had to worry about was video game bad guys, he thought. At that moment, he felt like the loneliest kid on the planet.

  The rest of the afternoon seemed to crawl by even more slowly than the morning had. Social studies was Cody’s favorite subject. But when Miss Brock stood in front of the class and said, “Who can name three ways the people of sub-Saharan Africa have adapted to their environment?” Cody’s mind was a blank. As he glanced at the clock on the wall, he could feel himself getting more and more nervous. He noticed his legs were jiggling furiously too.

  When the final bell rang at 2:30, he weaved through the crowded hallways to his locker, then joined the rest of the kids pouring out the front doors into the bright sunshine. But instead of veering off to catch his bus as he usually did, he crossed the street and headed for the grassy knoll on the other side.

  Up ahead, he saw a knot of kids chattering away excitedly as they said good-bye to friends before beginning the walk home. Cody’s school bus passed here every afternoon, and he knew this was the route Dante took too, often accompanied by one or two of his thuggish friends.

  Seconds later, he spotted Dante, with his head down, checking his cell phone. Technically, you weren’t allowed to use your cell anywhere on school property. But Cody knew the big guy didn’t worry about little things like rules and regulations.

  When Dante looked up and saw Cody walking toward him, he seemed surprised. Then he flashed his trademark sneer.

  “Fat boy!” he said. “What are you doing here? And where’s your bodyguard? You give her the day off?”

  The two older kids with Dante laughed nervously. Cody sensed they seemed unsure of exactly what their leader was referring to but apparently felt obligated to react to his sarcasm.

  “You’re even dumber than I thought, coming over here,” Dante continued, his voice louder now. Hearing this, a few of the kids who had been walking up ahead turned around, sensing some sort of trouble that might turn into their afternoon entertainment.

  Slowly, Dante peeled off his backpack and flung it dramatically to the ground. “I’ve been waiting for this,” he said, balling his fists and taking a step forward.

  Cody’s heart was racing. His hands were sweating. He took a deep breath.

  “Showtime,” he whispered to himself.

  What happened next felt like one long blur.

  “AAAGGGHHH!” he shouted at the top of his lungs, running at Dante and getting inches from his face.

  Then Cody began jerking his head back and forth and wagging his tongue and rolling his eyeballs. He threw himself to the ground, grunting and spinning in circles like a break-dancer before popping to his feet and hissing loudly.

  Dante backed up, a look of confusion on his face. His two buddies watched, bug-eyed.

  “Porker,” Dante said, “just what do you think you’re do—”

>   Next Cody started drooling and stamping his feet to go along with the rest of his contortions.

  “Throw in a bark or two,” his dad had said. So Cody barked and howled like some kind of unholy hound from the netherworld. Then he bared his teeth and raised his fingers like claws and growled ferociously.

  I’ll either win an Academy Award for this or get flattened in the next three seconds, he thought.

  “Whoa!” he heard someone in the background say. And now the entire knot of kids seemed to gasp and take a step back.

  Dante stood there, frozen. He stared ashen-faced at Cody for what seemed like thirty seconds. Then he slowly reached down and began feeling around for his backpack, his eyes never leaving Cody.

  “Ohhh-kay, Parker,” he said softly. “I have to go now. Why don’t you just—?”

  “GRRRRR!” Cody growled, giving him one more for good measure.

  Dante jumped as if he’d just been shocked. He grabbed his backpack, stood up, and backed away. When he was about six feet away, he turned and ran, sprinting up the hill with his two henchmen in tow, the three of them glancing nervously over their shoulders.

  Seeing that the show was over, the rest of the kids began drifting away. Cody slumped against a tree, trying to catch his breath. His heart was hammering in his chest, and his legs were shaking. How did the movie stars do it? This kind of intense acting was exhausting! Of course, the movie stars probably weren’t worried about getting punched out by a cranky bully if they didn’t nail the scene.

  Then he heard someone running up behind him. Could it be Dante again? Had the big guy been playing possum? Cody whirled around.

  It was Jessica.

  “That was awesome!” she said, grinning.

  Now it was Cody’s turn to look shocked. But the shock quickly gave way to major embarrassment. Had she seen his whole crazy, saliva-spewing act? How uncool was that?

  “What are you doing here?!” he asked.

  Jessica shrugged. “Thought you might need help,” she said. “I’d miss ten more karate classes just to see that look on Dante’s face again.”

  They heard the sound of footsteps coming up the hill, and Willie, Jordy, and Connor came flying over the crest.

  “Dude, where were you?” Willie said, gasping for breath.

  “Yeah,” Jordy said. “We thought your little showdown with Dante would happen right outside school.”

  “Kinda hard to have your back way up here on Mount Everest,” Connor said. “So, what happened?”

  Jessica gave them a quick recap of the confrontation, complete with Cody’s all-star impression of a disturbed person and Dante’s wide-eyed flight, which caused everyone to laugh. Then she draped an arm around Cody and said, “You did real well, Wisconsin Boy.”

  Cody could feel his face redden. But inside he felt proud.

  “Wish I could take all the credit,” he said.

  With that, he pulled an old, crumpled napkin out of his pants pocket and unfolded it until they could read the three sentences his dad had written:

  Act like a crazy person. Bullies don’t know how to handle crazy people. And they hate to be embarrassed in front of others.

  Cody shook his head and smiled. By tomorrow word might be spreading throughout York Middle that the fat kid from Wisconsin was certifiably psycho. But if it kept Dante from terrorizing him, it was worth it, he thought.

  Oh, Dante might still hate his guts. And the Rottweiler Twins might be lurking somewhere down the road. But Cody had a feeling Dante himself wouldn’t be bothering him anymore.

  It would sure be a nice change. And knowing his new friends cared so much about him made him feel even better.

  “C’mon,” he said to the four of them. “I’ll buy you an ice cream to celebrate.”

  “Better make it frozen yogurt,” Jessica said, grinning and poking him in the belly. “The nonfat kind.”

  The question caught Cody off guard. One minute he had stopped in the Orioles’ dugout for a quick drink of Gatorade, the next minute he was practically spitting a stream of the stuff across the cement floor, like people did on the sitcoms when they were startled.

  “Why do you talk to your bat?” Marty repeated.

  The Orioles were warming up now, getting ready to play the Blue Jays at Eddie Murray Field on a damp evening that was unusually chilly for late May. Nevertheless, Cody could feel his face getting hot from embarrassment.

  “Is it for, like, good luck or something?” Marty pressed.

  Cody was relieved to see there was no one else in the dugout. He glanced up at Marty to see if the kid was messing with him. But Marty seemed genuinely curious.

  Cody tried to think of the right thing to say. After he had flipped out on Dante, there had been whispers in school that Cody might be a head case. Luckily, the rumors had stopped by now—Jordy, Willie, and Connor had spread the word that it was all an act designed to get Dante to leave him alone. And as Cody had predicted, Dante hadn’t come near him since. Oh, he was still giving Cody dirty looks from a distance. But whenever the big guy saw Cody and Jessica together, he seemed to recoil, as if terrified that both a wacko and a martial artist might descend upon him.

  Still, the last thing Cody needed now was for kids to start calling him the Bat Whisperer or something. Like that dumb old movie his mom had about the guy who talked to horses.

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he said at last, snorting. “C’mon, who talks to their bat?”

  “You do,” Marty said matter-of-factly. He reached into his back pocket and pulled out a package of sunflower seeds. “I saw you do it the first time you took batting practice with us.”

  Marty shook some seeds into his mouth and chewed, staring at Cody the whole time. Within seconds, Cody found it unnerving. Boy, he thought, if Dad ever needs somebody to sweat one of the bad guys during an interrogation, Marty’s his man.

  Marty kept chewing and staring, chewing and staring. Cody looked away, pretending to be fascinated with a crack in the dugout wall as he finished his drink. The muffled sounds of the Orioles and Blue Jays warming up, of baseballs plunking into soft leather and pinging off aluminum bats, drifted into the dugout. Otherwise, the only sound was the soft crunch, crunch, crunch of Marty’s teeth grinding the seeds.

  After about ninety seconds, Cody cracked.

  “Okay, fine,” he said, throwing up his hands. “I’ll admit that I do—occasionally—whisper a little something to my bat. And, yes, it’s for good luck. But it’s no big deal. I’m not a wack job or anything.”

  Marty nodded thoughtfully and continued chewing. The answer seemed to satisfy him. He folded the packet of seeds and placed it carefully back in his pocket.

  “I talk to lots of things,” he said. “I talk to the ball when I’m in the outfield. My glove too. I talk to my dog, of course. And my fish.”

  Cody stood and grabbed his glove, ready to get back to warming up. This was getting weird. Mad weird.

  “Mainly I talk to things because people don’t always listen to me,” Marty continued. “I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but they think I’m kind of odd.”

  Cody tried hard to suppress a smile. He drained the last of his Gatorade and tossed the cup in the trash can.

  “You? Odd?” he said. “I don’t get that at all. C’mon, let’s go play catch.”

  He picked up a ball and tossed it at Marty. Marty grinned and grabbed his glove.

  As they trotted out to the field, Marty said, “Oh, and Cody?”

  “Yeah?”

  “Don’t worry. I won’t tell anyone you talk to your bat.”

  “Thanks,” Cody said, punching him playfully on the shoulder. “That would be a big help.”

  Fifteen minutes later, Coach called them together. Quickly he ran through the lineup that would take the field against the Blue Jays. Then he hitched up his belt, tugged his cap low over his eyes, and cleared his throat. The Orioles looked at one another. A major Coach speech was coming. Possibly even a State of th
e Orioles address.

  “Guys,” he said, “we’re having an outstanding season. We’re 11–0 right now. And you should be very proud of yourselves. Does anyone remember what I said at one of our very first practices?”

  No one raised a hand.

  “About this team’s potential?” Coach said. “Anyone?”

  Still no hands. The silence was deafening.

  Coach sighed and shook his head softly. “I’m glad to see my words leave such a lasting impression on all of you,” he said. “What I said was that this team has the potential to—”

  “OOOH! OOOH!” a voice cried. Marty’s hand shot into the air. He was wriggling like a worm.

  “Marty?” Coach said.

  “You said we had a great shot to become the best in the league,” Marty said. “You said we could even go undefeated.”

  “Exactly,” Coach said. Marty beamed as if he had just aced his Pre-algebra final.

  “It’s all up to you, men,” Coach continued. “The play-offs begin next week. An undefeated season would be something special. Something you’d remember for the rest of your lives.”

  The Orioles were nodding now. Connor and Jordy slapped high fives. Willie pounded his fist into his glove and murmured, “Yeah!” Robbie and Yancy banged their bats against the bench. Marty was up and dancing. Even Dante had exchanged his usual scowl for something that resembled—well, almost—a smile.

  Cody had to give Coach credit. He sure knew how to get a team fired up.

  “All right, hands in the middle,” Coach said as the team surrounded him. “We all know what the goal is now. Let’s get started on it today.”

  “One-two-three, Orioles!” they yelled.

  Robbie struck out the first Blue Jays batter, got the second one on a weak grounder back to the mound, and struck out the third one to end the inning. He was pumped, throwing hard but under control, and his fastball was popping into Joey’s mitt.