“I just didn’t know what else to do,” Bucky blurted out. “I mean, I was just dying to swallow the whole story. Pretend I’d never heard about it. But two times in a row, Dan came right up to me and said, ‘We got this great deal. It works perfect. Are you in?’”
“Sure.” Dad nodded agreement. “It’s cut and dried, cheating pure and simple. What else could you do?”
Mom got into the freezer and pulled out a new carton of Rocky Road ice cream. “Well,” she observed, “the intent of the rule is obvious. You cheat and you miss games. It’s a way of penalizing a whole team if it doesn’t stay on the high road. Your coach should know that. He didn’t push the matter hard enough, and he got burned for it.” She dished up two big helpings and slid them across the table. “But for him to penalize you that way, Bucky . . .”
“Yeah,” Dad agreed. “I mean, and then it looks like he just pure and simple kept you out of the lineup as a punishment for blowing the whistle.” He clucked his disapproval. “Just a total . . . overreaction. And, really, worked against the best interests of the team. Dan was actually the only starter you guys were going to miss. But when he deliberately pulled out his number five and six hitters both, man, that really created a hole. Even just there at the end, I could see that. Didn’t your replacement players go, like, oh for eight at the plate?”
“Yeah.” Bucky savored the icy, sweet comfort of the ice cream, glad to be in the warm approval of people who loved him unconditionally. He set down his spoon and looked from one to the next. “Here’s what’s hard. ‘Cause I really wanted to go to Hampton and, you know, make friends and be able to share Jesus with people.”
His dad listened without comment.
“But now . . .” Bucky held up both hands in a gesture of despair. “Now I got the whole school mad at me. Most of the team won’t speak to me. They figure I cost them the championship. And everybody else . . . it’s going to be bad. I don’t even want to think about what they’ll all say.”
Dad was about to speak, but Mom beat him to it. She came over and slipped an arm around her son’s waist. “Honey, you just do not ever know how God can use what you do for him. You doing the right thing today – that’s obedience. He’s going to bless it. Maybe you won’t see how the very first moment. And sure, there will be kids who look just at the surface and say, ‘Cheating’s the obvious shortcut. Take the easy road to everything. In baseball, too. ‘Play a game with . . . ineligible players. No one will know.’ And they get a trophy that the whole team knows is tainted. But just trust me, sweetheart. This will all play itself out in God’s perfect way.”
Even Dad was nodding, and Bucky smiled, feeling better. “Yeah.”
The wall phone rang, snapping Mom’s train of thought. Dad slid over and picked it up. “Hello?” Then: “Yeah, he’s here. Who should I say is calling?”
He handed the phone to his son. “Some guy says he’s from the newspaper.”
Bucky sucked in his breath. “Sports reporter?”
Dad shook his head. “No, I think it’s the guy who did the story on your ski accident last winter.”
Bucky accepted the receiver cautiously. “Hello?”
“Hello, Bucky? Oliver Bendall from the paper. You remember we spoke together a few months ago about your trip to the ski slopes.”
“Yes, sir.” Bucky forced himself to be polite. “Is there something I can do for you?”
“Well, I don’t know,” the reporter said carefully. “I just got a call from Max, the sports reporter who’s piecing together the story on tonight’s big junior varsity game.”
Bucky waited.
“Anyway, here’s the deal. The whole town figures you guys to win. You’re the better team and all that. So all of a sudden, you guys have three players missing. Dan Litton and a couple other players. They say you and Litton are friends, batting five and six in the lineup and all. So Max pokes around and finds out they were all suspended. At the last minute, no less. Coach Brayshaw admitted that, but didn’t have any comment beyond just . . . ‘district rules.’ Something about postseason eligibility. But then he noticed that you never got into the game either. Suited up but didn’t play a single minute. Third highest batting average on the JV team, not playing. Kind of weird. So, since I knew you already, I told him I’d check it out.”
Bucky could feel his skin getting prickly. Instantly his guard was up, and a picture came into his mind of a hundred scurrilous copies of the newspaper floating all around Hampton High’s campus. “I don’t know what you want from me,” he said carefully.
“Well, first off, why were the guys suspended? Are you involved in that? Secondly, why didn’t you play? Are the two things related? We figure they’ve got to be.”
Out of the corner of his eye, Bucky could see his father scribbling something down on a pad of paper. The older man thrust it into Bucky’s hand, and he looked down. “No comment.” Don’t say ANYTHING.
He nodded and then turned back to the receiver. “Look,” he said. “Coach Brayshaw plays the players he wants to play. If he wants me to play, then I play. If he thinks it’s someone else’s turn, then that’s his call.” It was virtually impossible to get the next words out, but he forced himself to add: “Coach Brayshaw’s been great all season, and I liked playing for him.”
“Yeah, but what about this suspension?” Mr. Bendall persisted. “Why was Litton booted off the team? Our readers have a right to know about that.”
Bucky nodded, feeling a return of his normal confidence. “I know. But . . . you have to ask Coach that. Or the school. It’s not my place as a teammate to give out those details.”
“But you know, don’t you?”
The words were spoken evenly and Bucky made an abrupt decision. “Okay, I’ll tell you what. Off the record, yeah. I know the story. And I feel real bad about it, but it’s not something I can talk about.”
There was a long pause. “Can you give me at least some idea of what category the suspension was for? Drugs? Anything like that? Which rule did they break? I could sure use your help, Bucky. At least tell me who to go to.”
“Go to the coach,” Bucky repeated. “Or, if you want to ask Dan Litton a question, then go ask Dan Litton a question. But I can’t help you.”
The line crackled for a moment before the news reporter spoke again. When he did, his voice was calmer. “I remember all this stuff about you being a Christian. Praying up there on the ski slopes and all that. When you helped rescue that girl. So I’m going to figure that there’s something similar going on here too.”
“Well, that’s fine.” Bucky actually managed to ease a last bite of ice cream into his mouth before replying. “But . . . I’m not going to say anything about it. On the record, anyway.” He paused. “Except what I just said about Coach.”
Accepting defeat, Oliver Bendall scribbled down a final note. “Okay, Bucky, I appreciate your situation. Not a problem. You have a good rest of the school year, okay?”
“Sure.” Bucky thanked him and hung up.
Dad came over and put an arm around him. “Good job, son.” He shook his head. “It’s got to be tempting to get your revenge in the sports column of the paper. But that’s not the right way. You handled that perfect.”
Bucky flushed. “Thanks, Dad.”
Chapter Fifteen: Picnic Table Conversion
Grateful for the safe haven of the weekend, Bucky allowed himself the luxury of an extra fifteen minutes in bed. Outside, the weather had turned nasty. Appropriately so, he thought to himself as he finally pulled himself out of bed and padded to the bathroom.
“Hi, baby,” he greeted his sister in the hallway.
“Hi,” she chirped cheerfully. “Did you win in baseball?”
He rolled his eyes. “Don’t you start on me too!” He rumpled her hair affectionately. “No, we didn’t win, sugar pie. But it’s okay.”
During the opening praise song at church Sam and Lisa slipped into the pew next to him.
“Hey,” Lisa greeted in a
whisper, reaching over and squeezing his hand. She winked at Rachel.
He grinned in grateful surprise. “It’s great to see you guys!” He paused. “Believe me, it’s great to see you!”
She slid a little closer. “I figured you could use some company. After that lovely mess at school.”
He gave her an apologetic look. “Sorry we didn’t get together afterwards. I was kind of bummed out.”
“Some of the girls on the squad were saying that Dan Litton and somebody else got suspended. So I figured it was from history class. But I couldn’t figure out why you weren’t in the game either. So . . . no surprise Panthers got their butts kicked.”
He squeezed her hand. “Well, Coach decided to shoot the bad guys plus the messenger too.”
“I know.” Lisa nodded sympathetically. “The whole school’s probably in a tizzy over it.” She looked at him directly. “Plus in the paper, too.”
“I know about that,” he muttered. “How’d I come out there?”
She brightened. “Really pretty good. Bendall and that Max guy didn’t have anything about the cheating. Just that three players were suspended because of district policies. The only part about you, besides not getting into the game was that you had no comment, you supported the coach, and all that. I don’t think anybody can complain there.”
He nodded hopefully. “Well, Monday should be quite a thrill.”
Lisa leaned slightly toward him so her short curls brushed against his shoulder. “Hang in there, babe,” she whispered.
As the Stones’ car pulled into the garage, Bucky spotted a large envelope resting against the front door. Getting out of the car, he picked it up. There was no address marked on it, just his name scrawled in large, masculine handwriting.
Opening the envelope carefully, he pulled out two sheets of faded yellow note paper, filled with the same large scrawl. He looked down at the bottom of the second page and caught his breath. Coach Walker!
“Dear Bucky,” he read. “I feel so bad about what happened yesterday. I must confess that I’ve had a real change of heart since we last spoke. You were honest enough to adhere to a stated policy, and now Hampton Beach gave the appearance of penalizing you for coming forward. For that, I apologize. This is just between the two of us, you understand, but I wish things had been handled better. Believe me, I’m very sorry about how circumstances combined to create a very difficult and painful situation for you.
“None of us can go back and erase all that was said or done,” the note continued, “but I want to tell you something: I have the greatest admiration for an athlete who puts his principles and his God ahead of everything else. Especially in your case – you risked victory and your personal reputation in order to maintain your integrity.”
There was more, but Bucky could not read it just yet. The generous note left him temporarily overcome with emotion. Finally, brushing away his tears, he saw the last words. “God bless you for your courage, Bucky. Your friend, Coach Walker.”
Monday morning Bucky pedaled to school with more confidence than he had expected to feel. It was bound to be a difficult day, he reminded himself. But already God had proved that good was going to come from the showdown last Friday.
As he walked into the main administration building, he was met with stony stares. Students who had clapped him on the back a week ago now turned away in disdain. He noticed that a large poster near his locker had an epithet scrawled on it and his own name attached to the cruel words.
“Way to go, Stone,” jeered one of the ballplayers who had been most friendly the week before. “You sure stuck it to us good, man.” He slammed his locker door closed with a bang. “Must be nice to be part of Hampton’s secret police squad.”
“Yeah,” put in a player from the freshman squad, “watch out you don’t chew gum in front of this guy. He’ll turn you in.”
Their laughter rang in Bucky’s ears as he reached into his own locker. A moment later, he heard a familiar voice. “What’s up, slugger?”
He turned slowly and looked into the face of Dan Litton. His ankle in a cast, the large athlete was supporting himself on two crutches.
Baffled by the sight, Bucky braced himself. “Don’t start on me,” he said in a low, pleading voice. “Please, just leave me alone, Litton.”
Dan stood there staring at him. “What do you mean?”
Bucky looked around at the now empty hallway, then gestured at the older player’s crutches. “I don’t know what happened to you,” he managed. “But I’m assuming you came here to crack me over the head with those. I mean, I know you’re mad and . . . I guess I just have to live with it. So say what you’ve got to say.”
Dan eyed him. “The whole school figures it’s war,” he said evenly. “But . . . let’s talk about it.”
“I’m not sure what there is to say.”
The chunky outfielder motioned with his head toward the lunch area. “Look,” he said. “Can you go late to class?”
Bucky frowned. There was no trace of animosity on his teammate’s face. “Sure.”
He followed Dan outside, and waited while the older athlete eased himself onto a bench and set the crutches down.
“So what happened to you?”
Dan stared down at his encased ankle. “I went home after the game,” he said. “Well . . . during, I guess. I could tell Panthers were going to get clobbered.”
Bucky said nothing.
“I got home, my dad was halfway through a bender. Beer bottles all over the house. And I was still simmering over . . . what you did, and I began to pour down a few myself. Next thing I know, my dad yaps at me to go outside, pick up the mail. I head out, and trip clean off the porch steps. Banged my face up pretty good and ended up fracturing my ankle.”
For the first time, Bucky noticed that there was a large purplish bruise on his friend’s left cheek. “Wow. You got creamed bad, Litton.”
“Yeah. Well, I had it coming.”
The conversation was surreal, almost placid, as if the huge fracas from Friday had never happened.
“Well, look,” Bucky began at last. “I am really sorry about all that happened. I don’t know what else I could have done, but it blew up in our faces, and I feel terrible about the fact that it caused you a lot of grief. I mean it, Litton. You were my friend.”
Dan sighed heavily, his face red with shame. “Well, you know what? The three of us were royally pissed at you. I mean, Estrada was about set to go to your house and set off a bomb or something. But we got to talking about it, and we started to realize that the whole mess was ours.”
“What do you mean?”
The other athlete paused. “We were just lazy. Dumb and lazy. We had this shortcut fall in our laps, and we figured we could save a couple of hours a week. We didn’t need the time – I mean, we were just goofing off. But why study when someone hands you a free copy of the test? You know? So we screwed up. Then when it came time for the big test, we knew catching up was impossible. So we shot the moon.”
“Did you hear anything from Harville?”
Dan grunted a no. “Not yet. But I imagine we’ll get busted today.”
Bucky waited for a moment, and then leaned forward. “Litton,” he said softly, “tell me what to do, man.”
“What do you mean?”
“I want to be your friend,” the younger player said simply. “We were great together. You and me on the ballfield . . . and just . . . here too.” He gestured at the campus. “You tell me how to make it up to you for the mess . . . and I’ll do it, man.”
“What are you talking about?” Dan shook his head. “We’re the ones who screwed things up. All you did was follow the policy. I mean, I was mad. But you didn’t do a thing wrong, Stone.”
Carefully, Bucky held out his hand. “Do you forgive me?”
His adversary stared at the proffered hand for a moment and then managed a grin. “Stone, you’re too much. I can’t forgive you; you’ve got to forgive me. I’m the one who drove off a
cliff.” He exhaled noisily, and then leaned closer. “Can you tell me something, though?”
“What?”
Dan weighed his words. “You’re going to fall off your chair there. But . . . what is it with you and God and all that?”
“What do you mean?”
The stocky student reflected, his eyes deep in thought. “‘Cause you just have it together. I went home all in a lather, I got blasted, I busted my ankle. You don’t do stuff like that. I cheated on a test, but when we asked you, it took you, like, two seconds to say no. You’ve just got this . . . life that’s all together. Plus you got this awesome girlfriend who goes to church with you; man, I haven’t got anything like that.” He wet his lips, suddenly unsure of himself. “I don’t know zip about what being a Christian involves, but all of a sudden, man, I want to hear about it.”
“Are you serious?”
Dan nodded, his eyes eager. “I’m totally serious. My life’s a waste, and I can just see by looking that having God in your life is what’s working.” He scanned the lunch area, now pretty much empty. “The whole school sees it, Stone.”
At that moment the Panthers’ catcher came bounding around the corner of the band building. When he saw Bucky his eyes narrowed. “Well, well, here he is!” he snapped. “Superstar blabbermouth Jesus freak! Good one, Stone. I oughta kick your . . .”
Dan staggered to his feet and took a clumsy step toward his teammate. “Bill,” he said evenly, “shut up right now. Get out of here before I use my crutch on you.”
The catcher stopped in his tracks. He scanned Dan’s face for any sign that he was joking, then noticed the earnest gleam in the star left fielder’s eye. “OK already,” he muttered. “I didn’t mean nothin’.” He edged away from the pair and into the classroom complex.
“You need to get to class?” Dan asked. “Or can you talk?”
Bucky Stone: The Complete Adventure (Volumes 1-10) Page 21
