Dr. Driscoll stood on the mound beside a different pitching machine. Liam stepped into the box. Dr. Driscoll pushed a button and the first ball flew out of the chute. Liam swung—and missed.
“That’s okay!” Dr. Driscoll called. “Here comes the next one!”
Major Whiff. Liam tried to focus on the ball. But he hit nothing but air again.
“Eye on the ball, now, eye on the ball!” the coach encouraged.
Liam fanned the next three.
Dr. Driscoll adjusted something on the machine. “See what you can do with this one!”
This time, when the pitch came, it wasn’t as fast. Liam connected for a bouncing grounder.
“There you go!” Dr. Driscoll praised.
Liam knew the coach meant well, but he was mortified. He had been hitting against pitching machines set at the fast speeds for two years. Having it set back to slow—and in front of a bunch of kids he didn’t know—was humiliating.
He hit the remaining balls, and even rocketed one far into the outfield. But that was of little comfort. He left the plate feeling like a complete loser. For the first time in his life, he considered quitting baseball.
But just as the thought entered his mind, the Driscoll brothers chased it out.
“Dude, don’t let it bother you,” Rodney said.
“And don’t let Robert Hall bother you, either,” Sean put in.
“Robert Hall. Is he the kid who called me…” Liam couldn’t bring himself to repeat the nickname.
“Robert Hall is an idiot,” Sean said with great confidence.
“He spends half his time making fun of people,” Rodney added, “and the other half trying to figure out why no one likes him. Seriously, forget about him.”
Liam wasn’t completely reassured. “But what if I get put on the same team with him?”
“If you are, don’t let him know he bugs you,” Sean advised, “because then he’ll treat you like a scab.”
“Huh?”
Sean flicked a fingernail across his arm. “A scab. You know, he’ll keep picking at you until he makes you bleed.”
Rodney made a face. “That’s disgusting.”
“Just saying.”
Their easy banter and dismissal of Robert Hall made Liam feel better—temporarily. But the next morning, the nickname came back to haunt him.
Major Whiff. It sounds like “made you whiff.”
Robert had seen the video of him striking out, that much was obvious. But there was no way he could know what Phillip DiMaggio had said to him afterward.
Carter and I were the only ones who heard that. The only way Robert would know about it was if we told him. Unless…
Liam sat bolt upright. “Unless he heard it from DiMaggio himself!” he whispered. But that would mean Robert knew Phillip. How could that be?
Dude, we’re from the San Fernando area.
Liam’s mouth turned dry as he remembered what Phillip’s teammate had said in Williamsport. He jumped out of bed, booted up his laptop, and typed the words Little League World Series into the search line. A long list of articles and websites popped up. The second entry promised highlights of the most recent baseball tournament. Liam clicked on it and began to read.
Ten minutes later, he sank back in his chair.
My life is ruined.
His family hadn’t just moved across the country. It’d moved to the same town as Phillip DiMaggio!
There’s only one thing to do, Liam thought. Get back in bed, pull the covers over my head, and wait for baseball season to be over.
Just then, there was a knock on his door.
“Liam, some boys are here to see you,” his mother called.
“Who is it?”
“Us.” His door opened and Rodney and Sean walked in.
“We want to know if you like movies. How about hiking? Gold?” Sean asked.
The questions were so unexpected that Liam blinked. “If I like—? Huh?”
“We’re on our way to a couple of parks around here, and we want to know if you can come,” Rodney said. “One of them is Vasquez Rocks. They filmed a bunch of movie scenes there and you can hike around and see the locations.”
“The other is Placerita Canyon,” Sean put in. “It’s got this big ol’ oak tree that’s supposed to have led to the discovery of gold.”
“I thought gold was discovered in some mill.”
“Sutter’s Mill in 1848,” Rodney agreed. “But gold was really discovered six years earlier by Francisco Lopez. Lopez fell asleep under the oak. He dreamed a golden river flowed underneath him. He woke up, dug around a bit, and voilà! Gold!”
“Huh,” Liam said. “And the tree is still alive?”
“Come and see for yourself,” Rodney said.
Liam glanced at his bed. As comfortable as it looked, he knew it wasn’t where he wanted to be after all.
And, he realized, the Driscolls must know something about DiMaggio.
“Okay,” he said. “Just let me get dressed.”
Rodney waved a hand in front of his nose. “Consider brushing your teeth, too. It’s a long car ride!”
Dr. Driscoll was sitting in the living room with Liam’s father. To Liam’s delight, his father had asked to join them on their adventure.
“I grew up around here,” Mr. McGrath told Dr. Driscoll, “but it’s been years since I visited those parks. Plus, I’m a huge Star Trek fan and I seem to recall several scenes from the original series were filmed at Vasquez!”
Liam rolled his eyes. “My dad’s a total geek.”
“I heard that,” his father said.
“You were supposed to!”
Laughing, they piled into the Driscolls’ minivan and headed for the hills.
Six hours later, the Driscolls dropped the McGraths back at their house.
“Thanks again!” Liam called. “See you guys at school tomorrow!”
Liam bounded up the stairs to his room, tired, but happy. The parks had been amazing, so different from back home with their dry, rocky terrain. They’d done a short hike to a waterfall and seen the oak tree, too. Liam’s father had shared a few funny stories of times he’d been there with his own father. The day had ended with pizza and ice cream.
If Liam had been able to bring up Phillip DiMaggio, his day would have been perfect. But with his father there, he didn’t dare. He just wanted to know if the Driscolls knew DiMaggio and whether he was playing Little League that season, and if he was, why he wasn’t at the tryouts—not get another lecture about letting go of the past.
I’ll ask the guys about him at school tomorrow.
CHAPTER
TWENTY-ONE
Sunday afternoon, Carter was sneaking a brownie from the kitchen when the doorbell rang.
“Can you get that, Carter?” his mother called from upstairs. “I’ve got an armful of laundry.”
Carter shoved the brownie into his mouth and hurried to the door. When he saw Ash on the other side, he almost choked.
“Hey.”
Carter swallowed hard to clear the thick chocolate wad from his throat. “Hey.”
They stared at each other for a long moment. “So, can I come in?” Ash finally said.
Carter flushed. “Oh, yeah, sure.”
Ash stepped inside. Carter closed the door and led the way into the living room. Ash sat down and looked around. He pointed to a photograph on a nearby shelf.
“Is that the guy who used to live in my house?” he asked.
The photo was of Carter and Liam, arms around each other’s shoulders. It had been taken last season, just after they’d won the Regional Championship game. They were both in uniform. Liam still had his catcher’s gear on.
Ash nodded as if he already knew the answer. “When Mom told me we were moving to this town, the first thing I did was check out your Little League,” he said. “I read about you guys all summer. I watched all the World Series games online and read the player profiles on the Little League website.” He jerked his chin at
the photo. “He was your cousin or something, right?”
“He still is,” Carter said.
“Yeah, of course. That was dumb, huh?” Ash went to the shelf and picked up another photo, this one of the whole All-Star team. “Most of these guys will play again this year, right?”
Carter shrugged. “I guess.”
“And they’ll be All-Stars again, too. At least that’s what your coach, Mr. Harrison, said. But you’ll be missing a key player.” Ash stabbed a finger at Liam’s image. “He’s gone. That’s where I come in.”
He sat back down, leaned forward, and stared intently at Carter. “I want to be your catcher this year. I think you and I would make a good team. We worked okay together yesterday anyway, and with practice we’ll only get better. In fact, I bet with you on the mound and me behind the plate calling the shots, we’ll take the title in Williamsport.”
“Oo-o-kaay,” Carter said slowly. To himself, he added, What planet is this guy from?
“Obviously, we can’t control whether we get on the same team,” Ash continued. “But just in case we do, we should start getting in a groove by practicing now.”
“I guess,” Carter said again.
Ash slapped his hands on his thighs. “Good. I’ll reserve an hour in the pitching tunnels for tomorrow night. My mom will drive us.” And then, without waiting for Carter to respond, he stood up and left.
Carter sat in his chair, blinking in confusion. “What just happened?” he asked the air.
“I was about to ask you that,” his mother said, poking her head into the doorway. “Was that Ash? What did he want?”
“He wanted to talk about baseball,” Carter replied.
His mother smiled. “Great! Glad you two are connecting.” She swept away with another load of laundry.
Connecting? Carter thought. Is that what we did? Because it felt more like being run over by a Mack truck!
He picked up the photo of him and Liam. Loneliness suddenly hit him like a ton of bricks. He put the picture back on its shelf, hurried to the hallway, and put on his coat, mittens, and boots. “Mom, I’m taking Lucky Boy for a walk!” he called. He jangled his dog’s leash. Lucky Boy came running and the two set off together.
Snow had started falling, a gentle white powder that drifted softly all around him. Carter scuffed through it past the house between his and Liam’s—and it’ll always be Liam’s, never Ash’s, he thought bitterly—then darted into the woods.
The light inside the forest was dim, but Carter knew his way.
He had stayed away from the shelter ever since Liam had moved. But now, he strode purposefully through the snow, picking up his pace the closer he got. Lucky Boy trotted along beside him, his nose to the ground. And then they were there.
The hideout was exactly as they had left it, with the dark green box wedged up in the back. He dragged it out and spread one of the towels on the ground beneath the overhang. Then he sat down and watched the snow fall. Lucky Boy sat down, too, but he watched Carter, his liquid brown eyes seemingly filled with concern. Carter took off his gloves and stroked his dog’s silky ears.
“I’m all right, Lucky Boy. I’m—”
Crack!
The loud snap of a branch breaking sounded like a gunshot. Carter sat very still, listening. A second snap echoed up the trail.
Someone was coming. He quickly edged farther beneath the shelter and urged Lucky Boy to follow. He held his breath, certain that if he just kept still he wouldn’t be detected.
But whoever was out there was getting closer.
All at once, Carter understood. Our footprints! They lead right to the hideout!
He and Liam had sworn never to reveal their secret place to anyone. If he didn’t do something, it would be his fault that it was discovered.
Moving as quickly and quietly as possible, he scooped up Lucky Boy and slipped from the shelter, pulling the towel behind him as he did to obliterate his tracks. When he was far enough from the opening, he balled up the towel and threw it under the overhang. To his relief it landed far at the back, out of sight.
Then he put Lucky Boy back down, began walking briskly back down the trail—and almost had a heart attack, for there was Ash, coming straight toward him.
“What are you doing out here?”
Ash brushed the snow from his coat and hair. “I saw you take off into the woods and wanted to see where you were going.” He peered beyond Carter. “What’s up there, anyway?”
“Just more woods.” Carter pushed past Ash and headed back down the path. “Listen, want to come back to my house for some hot chocolate?”
After what seemed like an eternity, Ash turned back and said, “Nah. I’ve got homework to finish. See you at school.”
CHAPTER
TWENTY-TWO
Yeah, we know Phillip.”
It was Monday. Liam had cornered the Driscoll brothers at lunch and asked them about Phillip DiMaggio.
“He’s playing in the Majors,” Sean continued. “He missed our evaluation because he had to go to a funeral up north that day. But he made the second one, so he’ll be on a team.”
Liam put his sandwich down, his appetite gone.
Sean and Rodney exchanged glances. “There’s something else you should know,” Rodney said. “We recognized you when you started school here. We’ve seen the video clip of your strikeout. Heck, everyone who followed the Little League World Series last year has seen it.”
Now Liam hadn’t just lost his appetite. He thought he might throw up. “Why didn’t you tell me all this yesterday? Or at the tryouts?” he asked miserably.
Rodney put his milk down. “Because we figured you’d want to forget all about that strikeout and start fresh.”
Sean nodded. “We’re big believers in fresh starts. We told you we’re adopted, right? Well, we weren’t babies. We’d been bouncing around the foster-care system for six years. Probably still would be if it weren’t for Dad.”
“He’s a dentist,” Rodney said. “He did a talk about dental hygiene at our elementary school, made us all demonstrate how we brush. I guess we failed, because afterward he demanded to talk to our parents. He found out we didn’t have any.”
“Long story short,” Sean said, “we went to live with him. One year later, he adopted us.”
“That was our fresh start,” Rodney said. “We thought you’d have yours when Phillip didn’t show up at our tryouts, and when no one else recognized you.”
“But Robert figured out who I was,” Liam said. “And DiMaggio is playing. So good-bye, fresh start.”
The Driscolls looked grave. “You’re not going to quit, are you?” Sean finally asked.
Liam frowned and shook his head. “And look like I’m scared to face him? No way. But man, I hate the thought of seeing him again. And what am I going to do if I end up on his team?”
“Well, you won’t have to wonder about that for too much longer,” Rodney said. “The draft is tonight. We should find out our teams by tomorrow.”
When Liam got home that afternoon, he discovered his mother in the family room surrounded by large-scale drawings of playgrounds. She held one up for his inspection. “What do you think—curly slide or long tube from this second level?”
“How about one of each?” Liam suggested. “That way, kids can race each other down them.”
“Love it!” she crowed, grabbing a pencil and sketching furiously. “How was school?”
“Well, I learned something today,” he replied.
“Since that’s the point of school, that’s good.”
“Yeah, except what I learned isn’t good.” He sank down in his favorite recliner and told her everything the Driscolls had told him.
She covered her mouth in horror. “Oh, honey, if we’d known he lived here—”
“It’s okay, Mom,” Liam broke in. “I can handle it. I just figured I should tell you.”
“I’m glad you did,” she said. “And Liam? If there’s anything I can do, tell me that,
too.”
“I will.” He shouldered his backpack and trudged up to his room. He took out his homework but didn’t start on it. Instead, he fired up his computer, logged onto Skype, and called Carter.
Carter’s image appeared a moment later. “Doofus! Working hard or hardly working?”
“Supposed to be homeworking, but I had to tell you something first. Are you sitting down?”
“Ooo, this sounds serious!”
“Just listen, okay? I find out who’s on my team tomorrow. One of the players might be someone you know.”
Carter laughed. “How would I—?”
“I could be on a team with Phillip DiMaggio.”
The color drained from Carter’s face. “No. Come on, Liam, you’re joking, right?”
“You see me laughing?” Then Liam told him what he’d found out that day. Carter sagged back in his chair. “It’s—that’s—oh, man, Liam.”
“Yeah.” Liam sighed. “On the bright side, I’m getting to be friends with Rodney and Sean, so at least there’s someone around here who will hang out with me. Speaking of which—what’s the latest news on Ashley?”
“Oh, you know, he’s just… you know, a new kid,” Carter replied. “Mom’s making me be nice to him.”
Just then, Liam heard Lucky Boy start barking. “I know that bark. Someone’s at your door,” he said with a smile.
“Yeah, and Mom’s not home so I better go answer it,” Carter said. “Skype, text, or call when you get your team assignment, okay?”
“I will.”
“And don’t forget, Liam.” Carter touched his finger to his chest and then bopped himself in the nose. “You surprised DiMaggio once before. You can do it again, only this time, on the ball field.”
Liam laughed, bumped screen fists three times with his cousin, and signed off. Then he sat back and thought about what Carter had said. After a few minutes, he got up and hurried downstairs.
“Hey, Mom, I thought of something you can do.”
“Name it.”
“Pitch to me. As many pitches as your arm can take. And when it wears out, take me to the batting cages and leave me there until I run out of money, the machines run out of balls, or the place closes for the night.”
Play Ball! Page 8
