by Mike Lupica
He grabbed his glove and a ball and went behind the bench, and Teddy grabbed his own mitt. Teddy said to Jack, “You okay?”
“Been better.”
“I should have made you waste one.”
“Nope,” Jack said. “On me.”
“We’ll get a run.”
“Better,” Jack said.
Not only did they get a run, but Teddy did the honors, a monster home run to the almost identical spot in right field. It was 2–1 going to the seventh. J.B. walked his first two batters, but then he got a strikeout. And then a fly ball to center that was deep enough to advance both runners. Two outs, both Rawson runners in scoring position. The Rawson center fielder, Kenny Wright, was coming to the plate.
As he walked behind Teddy and the home plate umpire, Cassie felt a tap on her shoulder.
Sarah.
Cassie had forgotten she was even at the game.
“I need to tell you something,” Sarah said.
“Kind of a bad time,” Cassie said. “Can’t it wait?”
“No.”
“You sure?” Cassie said.
“Is it a bad time if I can help your team win the game?” Sarah said.
“Not sure I understand.”
“I like to watch center fielders,” she said.
Cassie looked over, saw that Kenny Wright had taken off his batting glove and was putting it back on.
“Okay,” Cassie said.
“I watch them really, really, really closely,” Sarah said, as if she had all day for this particular conversation. “You can learn a lot by not talking and just watching. I know how much you like to talk. I like to watch, especially when they’re playing the same position I do.”
“Okay,” Cassie said again.
Kenny Wright fouled off J.B.’s first pitch to him.
Then took a called strike.
0–2.
“He can’t lay off high pitches. Your friend Jack struck him out on really, really, really high pitches his first two times up. You should tell the new pitcher to do that.”
She walked away, on her way back to the other side of the field.
As she did, Cassie stood up and walked toward home plate, asking for time from the ump as she did.
• • •
By now Cassie was used to people watching her in sports. If you were good, and Cassie knew she was good, people watched you. And Cassie knew she liked that, in whatever sport she happened to be playing at the time. Part of the challenge of playing on the boys’ basketball team had been knowing that people were watching her more closely than ever.
She wasn’t playing now. She was a coach on a team that really wasn’t her team at all. But as she walked toward the pitcher’s mound, the ump having granted her the time-out, she could feel every set of eyes at Highland Park on her.
Starting with Jack Callahan’s.
He met her at the mound, along with Teddy.
“Uh, Cass,” Jack said, “kind of got a situation here.”
“You told me that if I noticed something to say something, right?” she said.
“And you noticed something?”
“Well, actually Sarah did.”
J. B. Scarborough said, “Who the heck is Sarah?”
“Let’s wrap this up, boys and girls,” the ump called from behind the plate.
“Girl I play with,” Cassie said. “Long story.”
Teddy pushed back his mask and said, “Really long.”
“She watches baseball really closely, and she remembers that this guy at the plate can’t lay off really high pitches. Can’t help himself. Jack struck him out twice throwing balls nearly over his head.”
The ump was slowly walking toward them.
Jack said, “She’s right.”
“I should have remembered,” Teddy said.
“We both should have,” Jack said.
“I hate to break this up,” the ump said.
Quickly Jack said to J.B., “Throw the next one in the dirt. Teddy will block it. Then throw the next one at eye level.”
“I can do that,” J.B. said, “sometimes without even trying.”
Cassie said, “Well, then, my work here is done.”
On her way back to the bench, she gave a quick look at the third-base bleachers. Sarah was in the top row.
Sarah Milligan, she thought, you better be right.
J.B., as instructed, threw his third pitch to Kenny Wright in the dirt. Teddy blocked it like a champ.
Now, Cassie thought.
J.B. threw his next pitch on about the same plane as the bill of Kenny Wright’s batting helmet. Kenny took a wild, hero swing. Missed it by a foot. Maybe more. Strike three. Ball game.
While the Cubs ran out to celebrate around J. B. Scarborough, Cassie walked over to the third-base side of Highland Park, then made her way up through the bleachers to where Sarah was still seated.
Cassie knew enough not to make a big deal with her about what had just happened. Didn’t try to high-five the girl who said she didn’t like being touched.
Cassie just said, “You were right.”
Sarah didn’t change her expression, or show any sign of acknowledging the compliment. It was as if Cassie were now the one pointing out the most obvious fact in the world.
“There’s all sorts of ways to show people you’re smart,” Sarah said. “Like, more ways than most people think out.”
“So I am learning,” Cassie said.
Sarah nodded.
“You’re not the only smart one about baseball,” she said to Cassie.
“So I’m learning,” Cassie said again.
“You should go hang with your friends now,” Sarah said.
Cassie did.
TWENTY-SEVEN
There was one game left for the Red Sox, against Hollis Hills. One game left for the Cubs, against South Haven, new to the league this season.
The Cubs had already clinched the best record. The Red Sox still needed to win. Both games were on Saturday.
On Friday afternoon Cassie and the guys were stretched out around Jack’s pool. There was no practice for any of them today, no place they needed to be. A perfect summer afternoon. The only big decision was where to have lunch.
“How come if the girls keep winning, they get to be on television and we don’t?” Teddy said.
“Maybe it’s because they show so much of the Little League World Series on ESPN,” Jack said.
“Or maybe they’ve finally figured out that girls’ softball is more fun to watch,” Cassie said.
“I’m serious,” Teddy said.
Gus grinned. “She is too.”
Jack said, “Hey, if we win the league championship, is it going to feel like any less of a championship even if it’s not on TV?”
“Wait a second!” Gus said. “I thought that if something isn’t on TV these days, it practically didn’t even happen.”
“Or on Instagram,” Teddy said.
“Or Facebook Live,” Jack said.
“I think it started with the Kardashians,” Cassie said. “Or maybe all those Real Housewives shows.”
“My mom says that if you’re being logical, they’re actually unreal housewives,” Jack said.
“I feel like I’ve been in one of those shows this season,” Cassie said. “The Real Softball Girls of Walton.”
“Just without the shouting,” Jack said.
“Yeah,” Cassie said. “Just a lot of real loud silence.”
She was on a lounge chair, just having gotten out of the water, staring up into the sky, wearing a big pair of glam sunglasses her mom had let her borrow.
She felt a huge sigh come out of her.
“I shouldn’t feel this way,” Cassie said. “But it kind of bothers me that if we win, a lot of the girls get exactly what they want.”
“You mean for them to get on TV,” Gus said.
“Totally,” Cassie said. “They act like complete losers all year, and end up winning.”
“But it sho
uldn’t take away from the feeling you’ll get if you win,” Jack said.
Cassie said, “I keep telling myself that.”
“How does Sarah feel about this stuff?” Teddy said. “Does she ever talk about the other girls with you?”
“She doesn’t talk about much of anything, except softball,” Cassie said. “I think she blocks out a lot of stuff, and she’s just sort of blocked off the other girls. I think she’s so used to being on the outside, she hasn’t changed all that much now that she’s on the inside.”
“You found out what it’s like to be on the outside too,” Teddy said. “I used to feel that way when everybody used to call me Teddy Bear.”
“You know what it’s like,” Cassie said, “and now I do too.”
“Things will get back to normal when we get back to school,” Jack said.
“Yeah,” Cassie said, “but do I want them to?”
They hardly ever talked about the coming school year, when they’d move over to Walton High and into the ninth grade. Cassie’s theory was that they didn’t talk about it because they were happy where they were. It wasn’t that any of them were afraid of new things, or new challenges. They just liked their world the way it was. They felt secure in that world, even when things weren’t close to being perfect in it. She thought of the bridge over Small Falls, the one that had once terrified Teddy, until he finally made it across.
It was like there was a new bridge in front of all of them.
“Things are going to be weird enough in the fall,” she said. “I don’t need to pack in any extra weirdness.”
“So let’s change the subject,” Teddy said.
“To what?” Cassie said.
“Lunch!” he said.
• • •
It was when they were coming out of Fierro’s an hour later that they saw Kathleen and Greta and Allie crossing the street, headed straight for them.
“Great,” Teddy Madden said under his breath.
“Can we make a run for it?” Gus said.
“I’m not running from them,” Cassie said.
“Joking,” Gus said.
Cassie thought: Why not? The whole thing has been like a bad joke from the start.
But there was no place for them to go. A standoff.
Before they decided on their next move, Teddy said, “Hello, ladies.”
He sounded as friendly as if he were running for class president. Or mayor.
The girls turned around. “Are you talking to us?” Kathleen said.
She looked at Teddy, then Cassie, then back at Teddy.
“I am!” he said.
It stopped her. It was as if Kathleen and Greta and Allie were so used to not talking when Cassie was around that now they didn’t know what to do. Or say. Or didn’t know if they wanted to say anything. It was like Teddy had called them out, in the most pleasant way possible.
“Where you guys headed?” Teddy said.
“To get something to eat,” Kathleen said.
“Well, as you can see, you’re in luck,” Teddy said. “Because the best pizza in town is right through the doors behind us.”
Cassie gave a quick look at Jack. He was smiling, the same as Teddy.
At least, she thought, somebody here is having a good time.
“Well,” Greta said, “we’re actually not sure what we want to eat.”
Cassie couldn’t help herself.
“How you guys doing?” she said, knowing how ridiculous that was, since they saw each other almost every other day at practice or a game. But now it was as if they’d been away at camp.
“Fine,” Kathleen said.
Greta and Allie nodded. What a relief, Cassie thought. They’re all fine.
Only, nothing was fine, and hadn’t been for a while.
“Don’t you think this has gone on long enough?” Cassie said.
Just because it had. Because one day of this would have been long enough. Or dumb enough. Or both.
“You started this,” Kathleen said.
“How so?”
“By believing her and not me. You’re the one who took sides.”
“No, Kath,” Cassie said. “What started it was a stupid lie about one stupid play.”
“I didn’t lie,” Kathleen said, as dug in here in front of Fierro’s as she had been that day.
“You know what?” Cassie said. “I don’t even care anymore! It doesn’t even matter to me whether you called for that stupid ball or not!”
The words came out hot because she was, and she didn’t care whether they were seeing that or not.
“So why are you talking to use now?” Kathleen said.
“You know something?” Cassie said. “I don’t have a good answer for that.”
“I know why she’s talking to you.”
It was Jack. He hadn’t said a word until now. But Cassie could see that he had their complete attention. She wasn’t sure what it was about him that gave him this kind of authority. There was just something about him, and had been for as long as Cassie had been his friend. When Jack spoke, people listened to him.
“She’s speaking to you because she’s your teammate,” Jack continued, “and that’s what teammates do.”
Kathleen tried to gather herself. Teddy really hadn’t called her out. But Jack just had.
“I wasn’t speaking to you, Jack,” she said, and had to know how defensive she sounded.
“I thought everybody was speaking to everybody, Kath,” Jack said.
“This isn’t your fight,” Greta said.
Jack shrugged and looked around. “Who’s fighting?” he said.
“Cassie is,” Kathleen said. “With us. And she did start it.”
Now Kathleen turned back to Cassie and said, “So now these guys do your talking for you?”
A laugh came out of Cassie. She couldn’t stop it. “These guys?” she said. “Yeah, Kath, you got me. I needed a posse because you know I never stand up for myself.”
“That’s not what I’m talking about,” Kathleen said. She gave a quick shake of her head. “I don’t even know what we’re talking about.”
“Or not talking about,” Cassie said.
“But here’s what I know,” Jack said. “You guys have a few more games left to see if you can make it to Fenway, which was supposed to be your big goal. And you might be able to get through the regular season acting the way you’ve all been acting, but you won’t get to Fenway acting that way. So if you’re going to come together as a team, now would be a good time.”
If Kathleen heard what Jack had said, she didn’t show it. But Cassie saw how red her face had gotten all of a sudden. For a moment Cassie thought she might cry.
“You were supposed to be my friend!” Kathleen yelled now at Cassie. “You didn’t act like my friend.”
And in a quiet voice Cassie said, “You’re right. I didn’t.” She slowly began to nod her head, the way you did if you’d suddenly figured something out. “I didn’t know nearly as much about friendship as I thought I did.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Kathleen said.
“Still figuring that out,” Cassie said. “Kind of a process.”
Then she turned and walked away from Fierro’s. She wasn’t shunning anybody. She just felt like Sarah Milligan.
She was tired of talking.
Exhausted, actually.
TWENTY-EIGHT
It was amazing, if you really thought about it, considering everything that had gone on.
If they beat Hollis Hills, they really did win the regular season championship. And then they were two wins in the play-offs away from their shot at Fenway.
Yeah. Amazing.
Jack and Teddy and Gus went to a movie on Friday night that Cassie had no interest in seeing, so Cassie and her dad went to Cold Stone for ice cream after dinner. They decided to get it in cups so that they could sit and eat it at Highland Park in the early evening.
When they got to the park, they decided to go sit in swings a
t the playground, which was empty now. It occurred to Cassie that Highland was hardly ever empty in the summer. But it was tonight. No ball games going on. No kids with their parents. Just the two of them.
“Just like when we came here and ate ice cream when you were a little girl,” Chris Bennett said to her.
“Sometimes I wish I still were one,” Cassie said.
Her dad laughed. “Me too!” he said.
They sat there in silence for a couple of minutes, until Cassie’s dad said, “But here’s the thing: as much as I’d like to have those nights back, and have you be little again, I look at the girl you are now, the person you are, and I know I would have signed up for that in a heartbeat.”
“Thanks, Dad,” she said.
They rocked slightly on their swings and ate their ice cream. Cassie noticed the first fireflies around them. She’d always loved fireflies. She wondered sometimes what they did during the day.
“This season has been nuts,” she said.
“Well, it hasn’t been dull, I gotta admit that,” he said. “Your mom told me about how you ran into Kathleen and Greta and Allie today. What was that like?”
She gave him the highlights. Or lowlights.
“Do you think that breaking the ice and at least talking made things a little better?”
“Nah.”
“Maybe things will get back to normal when you’re all back in school,” he said.
“Jack said the same thing.”
He pumped a fist in the air. “Then I must be right!”
“I actually don’t think that’s gonna happen, Dad. Not even sure if I want it to.”
“I understand why you might feel that way now,” he said. “But unless somebody moves away, you girls are going to be going through high school together. And you might have heard this one, but time does heal all wounds.”
Her dad leaned over and gently cleaned some ice cream off her chin.
“Teddy says that it should be the other way around: time wounds all heels. He says that’s what he wants to happen to the girls who treated me the way they have.”
“You know he doesn’t really mean that.”
Cassie smiled. “Well, maybe just a little bit.”
They went back to rocking in silence on their swings.
Then Cassie said, “You want to know another crazy thing about our season? I kept telling myself that everything that happened was because of Sarah. But I don’t think that anymore.”
