State Showdown

by Matt Christopher

  Carter blinked in surprise. “Yeah, so?”

  “So, you do it for luck, right? Thing is, you don’t need luck.” The catcher gripped Carter’s shoulder. “You don’t need luck because you have talent. Loads and loads of talent. Talent is what wins games, not luck. So shake off the walks and bring on the heat, okay?”

  Carter grinned. “Okay.”

  Two batters later, the no-hitter was still alive.

  Alive—but as of the top of the fifth inning, in someone else’s hands.

  “You’re at forty-nine pitches,” Coach Harrison informed Carter. “Any more, and it’s unlikely you can pitch again this tournament. So Peter’s going to take it from here.”

  Carter’s face fell. “Oh. Okay.”

  Disappointed, he barely noticed when Forest Park failed to get on base, though he snapped back to attention when Peter Molina took the mound. He held his breath with every pitch, letting it out only after Larry Miller, the top of Calder’s batting order, made the third out to end the fifth hitless inning.

  Forest Park didn’t add more runs its final turn at bat. With the score at 4–0, Calder had one last chance to get on the board.

  The first batter was Jarvis Greenaway. He didn’t deliver. Next up was Ricky Muldoon. He took two called strikes and then—pow! He belted the third into the clear blue sky. The ball soared as far as it did high, dropping beyond the outfield fence when it finally came back to earth.

  Forest Park 4, Calder 1.

  CHAPTER

  NINE

  Oh, man, Carter, that rots.”

  Liam had been in the shower when he’d heard the blooping tones from his laptop, the signal that he had an incoming video-chat call. He’d thrown on a T-shirt and shorts, but his hair was still wet. He slicked it back now, sending a rain of droplets down his back.

  “I still can’t get used to you with Bieber hair,” Carter commented. When Liam lived in Pennsylvania, he’d worn his hair in a closely cropped crew cut. Since moving to California, he’d let it grow out, so now it was as long as teen music superstar Justin Bieber’s famous mop.

  “It’s not Bieber hair,” Liam protested. “It’s just hair. And don’t change the subject. You always do that when you don’t want to talk about something.”

  “Duh, doofus, that’s why it’s called ‘changing the subject,’ ” Carter said, rolling his eyes.

  “Yeah, well, we’re not going to do that this time. I know you’re bummed out. But at least you won the game, right?”

  Carter nodded. “And I’m not that bummed out—okay, fine, I am,” he amended when Liam snorted. “But you should have seen Peter. He pretty much lost it after the game. Must have apologized to me a hundred times.”

  “What did you—”

  Carter interrupted him. “Hang on a second.” He disappeared from Liam’s screen. Liam heard a door open and the sound of voices. Then Carter returned. “Sorry about that. Ash forgot his key card.”

  Liam was momentarily confused. Then he remembered Carter was sharing a hotel room with Ash during the tournament.

  “Oh, hey, Liam,” Ash said, peering over Carter’s shoulder at the screen. He jerked his head toward Carter. “He tell you about the near no-hitter?”

  “Yeah,” Liam replied. “And about how wrecked Peter was for giving up that homer. So what did you do when he apologized?” He directed the question to Carter, but Ash answered.

  “He told Peter it was okay, that these things happen, and that he shouldn’t feel bad about it.” Ash pulled a face. “You ask me, he was too easy on him.”

  I wasn’t asking you, Liam was tempted to say. Instead, he flicked a significant look at Carter. Carter started toying with a loose thread on his shirt.

  “So tell me, Ash, what would you have done?” Liam knew he sounded sarcastic, but he didn’t care. Ash was getting on his nerves, first for barging in on their chat and now for making Carter feel bad for treating Peter with grace. As if Carter knew how to behave any differently!

  “Listen,” Ash said, pitching his voice in a reasonable tone that made Liam only more annoyed, “all I’m saying is that the challenges and the pressure are only going to be greater the further we go on the road to Williamsport. The better prepared Peter is for it, the better off our team will be.”

  With that, he moved out of camera range. A moment later, Liam heard the hotel room door close.

  Neither Carter nor Liam said anything for a few seconds. Then Carter sighed. “He has a point.”

  “Yeah. And it’s right on the top of his head.”

  That got a smile from his cousin. Liam was about to remind him that it was Coach Harrison’s job to talk to Peter, not Ash’s or Carter’s, but there was a loud knock at the hotel door.

  Liam grimaced. “What, did he forget his key card again?”

  Carter vanished once more. This time when he returned, it was a girl who joined him on-screen.

  “Hey, I remember you,” she said, a wide smile lighting up her face. “You’re Liam.”

  “And you’re Rachel, right?” Liam had never been in class with Rachel when he lived in Pennsylvania, but he still recognized her. Plus, Carter had talked about her enough that he was sure that’s who the girl was. He remembered what Carter had said about his former Hawks teammate, too. “You’re the one with all the bad jokes.”

  “Not all of them,” Rachel rejoined mischievously. “Carter says you have plenty yourself. Listen, Carter, I’m sorry for the intrusion, but I got some great news and I couldn’t wait until morning to tell you.” Eyes shining with excitement, she announced, “I’m going to the Little League World Series!”

  Liam stared at her in confusion. So did Carter.

  “Don’t take this the wrong way,” Carter said, “but… huh?”

  Rachel burst out laughing. “With our Challenger team, as a buddy!”

  In 1989, Little League created a new program known as the Challenger Division. Teams were made up of physically and developmentally disabled players. Most of the players had “buddies”—Little Leaguers from different divisions—who helped them play games.

  “Matt’s team is one of the two playing in the Challenger Game at Williamsport during the World Series,” Rachel explained. “I couldn’t go at first because we were going on vacation that week. But my parents changed our plans, so now I can!”

  “That’s great,” Carter said enthusiastically.

  “And you know what else is great about it? I’ll be there when Forest Park wins the World Series this year!”

  “Hey now!” Liam interjected. “Who says his team will make the title game? Ravenna could wipe out Forest Park in the U.S. Championship, remember!”

  He meant it as a joke. But all at once, what he said struck home.

  Before the postseason began, he and Carter had speculated about the possibility that their teams might meet in Williamsport. They’d agreed that the odds were stacked against it. After all, the same teams had never faced each other in the U.S. Championship two years in a row.

  But now that both had won their first games in Sectionals, the odds were starting to look a little more favorable.

  Rachel cleared her throat. “Well, one thing’s for sure. No matter what happens, you two will always be each other’s biggest fan. Right?”

  “Absolutely,” Carter said.

  “One hundred percent right,” Liam agreed without hesitation.

  The three chatted for a bit longer. When Carter gave a huge yawn, Liam remembered that while it was only seven o’clock in California, it was already ten in Pennsylvania.

  “Let’s wrap it up,” he said. He held up his fist. Carter did the same. They tapped their screens three times. Then Carter and Rachel’s image winked out.

  Alone in his room, Liam twisted around on his bed and stared at a photograph hanging above his headboard. Carter had given him the picture for Christmas, just before he moved to California. It was an aerial view of his hometown in Pennsylvania. He could see Carter’s house and, two roofs down, the hou
se where he used to live—and where Ash now lived.

  Liam made a face. Ash. Ashley. How can Carter stand to be on a team with him? Well, one thing’s for sure. If Forest Park does get to the World Series, I’ll be cheering for Carter. But Ash? He shook his head. Maybe not so much.

  CHAPTER

  TEN

  On Sunday, Forest Park faced Groveland for its second Sectional game. Carter played third base for three innings and got up to bat twice. When the score jumped to 8–0 in Forest Park’s favor, Coach Harrison took him out. Carter didn’t mind. If they won that day, they’d play again on Tuesday. He understood the coach wanted him well rested for that game because he’d be taking the mound again.

  Three innings later, his team did indeed win. Final score: Forest Park 10, Groveland 2.

  Rachel bounded up to Carter after the game, full of congratulations. “I wish I could stay for the rest of the tourney,” she said. “But Mom’s working tomorrow, so we’re heading back now.”

  “Thanks for coming, Rach,” Carter said. “And thanks for the book, too.”

  Rachel grinned. When her mother called for her, she gave Carter a high five and then vanished into the crowd.

  A few minutes later Mr. Delaney appeared, pushing Matt in his wheelchair. They congratulated Carter and then Matt stage-whispered conspiratorially, “I see you’ve kept your secret weapon under wraps so far. Good move.”

  Carter laughed. He knew Matt was referring to the knuckleball. He hadn’t used it in the game against Calder because he’d been successful with his fastball and changeup. “Coach Harrison thought it made sense to keep that one up my sleeve, just in case we faced Calder again.”

  “He’s a smart one, that man.” The Delaneys shook his hand, wished him good luck in his next game, and then departed.

  Back in his hotel room, Carter did a quick calculation and realized Liam was likely home from his game by now. He tried to video-chat with him. But the Internet connection wasn’t working, so, instead, he found out via text message that Liam’s team had won its second game as well.

  If we win on Tuesday, Liam’s text read, we’re heading to the SoCal S SDs!

  “SoCal S SDs” stood for the Southern California South Sub-Divisional Tournament. Because the state was so large, California had two Little League divisions, one in the north and one in the south. Northern California was further divided into NoCal North and NoCal South; likewise, Southern California was split into SoCal North and SoCal South.

  Ravenna was in SoCal South. If the team beat the competition in its section, it would advance to the Sub-Division tournament and play other SoCal South section winners. If Ravenna won there, it would play a single game against the winner from SoCal North. And if it emerged victorious over SoCal North, it would represent the Southern California Division at the Western Regional Tournament.

  Carter was happy for Liam, and even happier that Forest Park’s Sunday win had earned the team a bye on Monday. Monday morning, he and his father were the first ones in the hotel pool.

  “I challenge you to a race,” Carter said. He tightened his swim goggles and then called out, “On your mark, get set—GO!”

  Father and son shoved off from the side of the pool, arms chopping through the chlorinated water and legs kicking up a splash behind. Mr. Jones touched the edge first, whirled around, and started to stroke his way back to the other end. Carter was close to catching him when, suddenly, the strap on his goggles snapped. He finished the race without them and came up laughing.

  “I demand a rematch! Where are my goggles?”

  Mr. Jones fished them out of the water. “Here you go.” But when Carter reached for them, his father playfully yanked them out of reach. “Oops! Too slow!”

  Carter was still trying to grab his goggles when he spied Ash on their balcony. He jumped high out of the water and waved for him to join them. Ash glanced down, then turned away and disappeared into their room. Carter was sure he had seen him. But when he didn’t come down to the pool, he decided he must have been wrong.

  Monday afternoon, the Forest Park team gathered in the stands to watch Calder play Groveland. Ash had his baseball binder with him. Throughout the game, he added information on the pages marked Calder and Groveland.

  “Do you toss the stuff about the losing teams?” Carter asked curiously.

  “I never toss anything,” Ash replied. “Kids who play for losing teams one year might be on winning teams in the next.” He flipped to a different page and tapped a photo of a boy. “Case in point.”

  Carter glanced at the photo—and blinked in surprise. “Hey, that’s me from last year’s World Series!”

  Ash nodded. “I told you when we first met that I already knew a lot about you, remember? Well, I wasn’t lying. I got the picture off the Internet. The info I got by watching games and reading articles.”

  “No way! Let me see.”

  Carter took the binder and read about himself with fascination. There was little about last year’s regular season or District tournament, but Ash had compiled plenty of facts and figures about his performances in Sectionals, States, Regionals, and of course, the World Series.

  He’d added personal observations, too. One note in particular, about his habit of throwing the ball into his glove over and over, jumped out at Carter.

  Shows he’s nervous? Ash had written. If so, better to let him work it out this way.

  Carter made a face. He hadn’t realized his habit revealed so much about his state of mind. If Ash had picked up on it, others probably had, too, or could if they hadn’t already. He resolved then and there to quit doing it.

  He turned to the next page, expecting to see a new player’s profile. Instead, he found himself staring at a long list of players he’d struck out. The list started with last year’s postseason and continued through his near no-hitter over Calder. Seen as a whole, the stats overwhelmed him.

  “Now do you get why I wanted to be your catcher?” Ash asked quietly. “You’re not a good Little League pitcher, Carter. You’re an ace.”

  Dumbfounded, Carter just shook his head, closed the book, and handed it back to Ash without a word. He watched the rest of the game in a fog. Calder won big, 11–3.

  Carter finally snapped back to attention during the announcements about the Sectional title game scheduled for the next morning. The head of the tournament stood at home plate, microphone in hand, and addressed the players and people gathered in the stands.

  “Calder now has a record of two wins and one loss. Forest Park’s record stands at two wins and no losses,” he stated. “The final matchup between these two worthy teams will begin tomorrow on this field at eleven sharp.”

  He paused then, for a woman was hurrying out to convey a whispered message. The man glanced up at the sky and then addressed the crowd again. “Folks, it seems the morning’s weather forecast is calling for passing thunderstorms. So that eleven o’clock start time might not happen. Coaches, be sure to check the tournament hotline for any postponements. We’ll get the information there first thing tomorrow.”

  “Man, I hope those weather guys are wrong,” Raj said to Carter as they clattered down the bleachers and started back to the hotel. “I’m ready to take on Calder right now! Aren’t you?”

  Carter flashed back to Ash’s binder. In his mind’s eye, he saw the line of Ks, the shorthand symbol for strikeouts, marching next to all the players he’d fanned. Some of those players were on Calder.

  “Yeah,” he replied to Raj. “I’m ready.”

  CHAPTER

  ELEVEN

  Eight o’clock Tuesday morning, Liam rose from his bed and stared out his window. A layer of light gray clouds scudded across the sky, thick enough to block the sun but not threaten rain. In other words, good baseball weather, for no sun in the sky meant no sun in the eyes.

  The sun stayed hidden throughout breakfast and the forty-five-minute car ride to the tournament. Liam was walking to the ball field for Ravenna’s pregame warm-ups when Sean caught
up to him.

  “I just got a call from Carter,” Sean informed Liam. “His game has been postponed to the late afternoon because of a thunderstorm. So he wants me to text him a play-by-play of your game. Can I use your phone? Mine’s almost out of battery.”

  Liam had planned on giving his phone to his mother to hold since he couldn’t have it with him in the dugout. But he was more than happy to give it to Sean. “Make sure you get a good seat in the bleachers. If you can, film the best plays and send him those, too.” He showed him how to reach the video feature on his phone.

  “How will I know what the best plays are?” Sean asked.

  Liam puffed out his chest with exaggerated bravado. “Those will be the ones I’m part of. So keep it rolling if I’m at or behind the plate.”

  Melanie, walking right behind them, must have overheard their conversation, because she cut in. “I’ll be filming stuff, too,” she reminded her brother. “If Sean misses something, I’ll have it.”

  Liam turned to Sean and said with mock amazement, “Well, what do you know. She’s good for something after all.”

  “Watch it, mister,” Melanie growled. She patted her video camera. “Remember, I’ve already got lots of footage of some of your ‘best plays.’ ”

  Liam eyed her warily. “Such as?”

  She gave him a crafty smile. “That’s for me to know and you to find out—if I decide to let you find out.”

  Liam wasn’t sure he liked the sound of that. But he didn’t have time to question her more because he was due on the field. Their practice time was particularly important this game because he was catching for Phillip.

  The two had worked together over the past few days. Mr. Madding had been on hand at all times and had upgraded his evaluation of their progress from “fine” to “very good.”

  In Liam’s opinion, though, things were still off. Phillip had finally run out of suggestions. Liam thought he’d be happy when that happened. But now the only communication they had were pitch signals, nods, and the occasional “hey.”