Tommy nodded. “Okay.”
Smiling triumphantly, Susan pulled out her red-and-white skateboard — which was just a few inches shorter than Barry’s and had a T-handlebar — and followed Barry out the door.
Once outside, they skateboarded up the cement walk. Their wheels clacked over the cracks, and more than once Susan’s board rolled off the walk.
The second time Susan bent down to put her board back on the walk, Barry noticed something blue sticking out of her left-hand pocket. That sister of mine, he thought. Her pockets are always bulging with some kind of junk.
“Hey, Barry!” he heard a familiar voice say, and he saw his friend José sweeping around the corner on his fancy skateboard.
“José!” Barry called. “Race you down the block!”
“You’re on!” José replied. The two of them stood side by side for a second, then took off down the sidewalk, leaving Susan staring after them.
Suddenly four more boys on skateboards appeared from the other direction.
“Well, look who we’ve run into!” Alec Frost cried. “McGee and Mendez! The Mudders outfield!”
“Not quite,” said Barry, feeling a tightness in his stomach. The last guy he wanted to come across was Smart-Alec Frost. Barry recognized the other three, too. They were all members of the High Street Bunkers baseball team: Fuzzy McCormick, Judd Koles, and Tony Workman.
Both Barry and José slowed down, moving to the right side of the curb to let Alec and his friends pass by. The four boys took their time and hogged most of the sidewalk. Another six inches and Barry and José would have been on the grass.
“Hah!” Barry heard one of the guys laugh, but he ignored him. He was just glad they were leaving.
Barry and José got into position to continue their race. Then Barry heard a scream behind him. The boys pulled up short, looked back, and saw Susan yanking out her pockets and yelling, “It’s gone! It’s gone!”
6
Barry and José skateboarded as fast as they could up to Susan. Tears shone in her eyes and streamed down her cheeks.
“What’s gone?” Barry asked.
“Tommy’s figurine!” Susan exclaimed. “The little dog statue I had in my pocket! He bought it at Disneyland with his own money!”
Barry pursed his lips. So that was what was sticking out of her pocket, he thought. “Maybe it fell out while you were skateboarding,” he said.
He and José helped her search the sidewalk and the ground. Suddenly he heard loud laughter up ahead.
“Look,” José said. “I think the statue’s been found.”
Barry looked up the sidewalk. Alec Frost was rocking back and forth on his skateboard and tossing something in the air: Tommy’s glass dog. His pals were laughing as they rocked and spun on their skateboards.
“That’s my brother Tommy’s!” Susan yelled, running toward them. “Give it back to me!”
“Bring it back!” Barry cried, running after her.
“Better watch out,” Alec taunted as he teetered on his skateboard. “I might drop it.”
“Come on, Alec,” Barry coaxed. “Hand it over.”
But Alec and his friends only laughed and took off down the street.
“Hey! Where do you think you’re taking that?” Barry shouted. He sped after them, one foot on the skateboard, the other pumping the sidewalk furiously. He could hear José following him closely and Susan lagging farther behind.
What was she doing with that dog figurine anyway? he thought angrily. Why didn’t she leave it at home where it belongs?
“Alec!” he yelled. “You’re stealing that statue! You hear me? It doesn’t belong to you! It’s my brother’s!”
“Crook!” Susan screamed from far behind him.
Alec whipped his skateboard around and stopped. His eyes bore into Barry’s as Barry reached him.
“Crook? What a gas!” he said, and laughed. “Tell your sister about that fly ball you pretended you caught, McGee. Or maybe she already knows about it. If I’m a crook, what does that make you?”
“Knock it off, Alec,” José said.
“Forget that,” Barry said, and extended his hand. “Hand me back my brother’s statuette.”
“No way!” Fuzzy McCormick cut in. “Let’s go, Alec! It’s yours now!”
He headed up the sidewalk, one foot on the skateboard, the other pumping away like mad.
Alec scooted around on his skateboard and started to follow him. Barry stared after him, anger flushing his cheeks. It was obvious that Alec wasn’t going to return Tommy’s glass dog. Something else had to be done.
“Alec, wait!” he shouted. “I’ve got an idea!”
7
Alec slowed down, stopped, and looked back over his shoulder at him. “Yeah?” he said. “What kind of idea?”
Barry took a deep breath and let it out before he went on, his heart pounding. “Let’s make a deal,” he suggested, eyeing Alec closely. “If I get one hit off you, you give back the dog. Deal?”
“Deal?” Alec echoed. “They call you the hit-away kid, don’t they?”
Fuzzy laughed. “They won’t after the game,” he said and started to skateboard away. “Come on, Alec. Let’s go. Forget him.”
“No, wait,” Alec said without taking his eyes off Barry. “Sure, I’ll give you a chance to get this toy back, if it’s your brother’s.”
“It is!” Susan shouted.
“But you’ll have to hit two home runs,” Alec said, ignoring Susan.
Barry stared at him. “Two home runs? You crazy? Who do you think I am, some big leaguer?”
“The hit-away kid,” Tony Workman said, smiling from one side of his mouth.
“Right,” Alec said. “And, if I strike you out twice, I keep it.”
“And if I strike out twice and get two home runs besides?” Barry countered. “What then?”
Alec shook his head. “A real dreamer, aren’t you?” he said.
He started to turn away, but Barry swept up in front of him. “You’re not giving me a fair chance, Alec. In the first place, that toy doesn’t belong to you.”
“Sure it does. And you made a great catch yesterday. Out of my way, mudface,” Alec said. He shot past Barry up the sidewalk with Fuzzy, Tony, and Dick trailing after him. A few seconds later they vanished around the next block, screaming like hyenas.
“I’m going to tell Mom,” Susan said, her voice ready to break. “She’ll get it back.”
“No, you won’t,” said Barry, his face shiny with sweat from the encounter with Alec. “I don’t want Alec to think he’s a better pitcher than I am a batter. I’m going through with the deal.”
“All you care about is your dumb game!” Susan wailed.
“You just don’t understand,” said Barry.
“You’ll have to practice more,” José broke in quietly.
Barry looked at his friend. He and José had been close all their lives. But suddenly a frightening thought occurred to him. Had the awful things Alec said about him changed José’s feelings? Were they still as good friends as they ever were?
“Will you pitch to me?” he said, looking hopefully into José’s dark eyes.
José grinned. “Of course I will!” he cried.
They agreed to meet at the ballpark after they went home to get their equipment. Susan came along, too, to make sure Barry practiced hard. She didn’t want to go home (to Tommy) empty-handed after the game.
Barry stood in front of the backstop screen, taking warmup swings with his bat, while José stood in the worn patch of grass between home plate and the pitcher’s box. Susan ran out to left field, where Barry usually hit the ball.
There were five kids playing tag, all of whom Barry knew. Before Barry hit out three balls, all five of them quit playing tag and began helping Susan field the balls.
A good feeling swelled inside of Barry as he saw one ball and then another sail over the left-field fence. But most of the hits were shallow drives over the infield, and there were a few
grounders.
“Ha, ha, ha!”
He heard the laughter coming from behind him and signaled for José to hold up his next pitch while he looked around.
Standing behind the screen was Alec, on his skateboard. This time only Fuzzy was with him.
“You got the idea, hit-away,” Alec said, grinning. “Practice, practice, practice. But it’ll take more than that for you to win back your precious little doggie!”
8
Barry hated to see Friday afternoon come. It was the day of the game with the High Street Bunkers — the day he had to hit two home runs off Alec Frost or avoid striking out twice. Otherwise, good-bye glass dog.
What terrible odds Alec had given him! I seldom strike out, Barry thought, but I’ve never hit two home runs in a game in my life!
Another terrible thing was that he couldn’t even pretend he was sick and stay home. He had to play.
Dressed in his blue uniform, his glove stuck in front of his pants, he walked with Susan to the ballpark. Neither one of them said more than three or four words all the way. It was windy, and Barry had to pull his cap down tight to make sure it wouldn’t blow off.
Both teams took their batting practice, then fielding practice, and, at exactly four-thirty, the game began. The Peach Street Mudders had first bats, and Barry, as usual, led off.
He saw that smirk on Alec’s face and wished he could wipe it clean off with one hot drive right at him. Or maybe one hot long one over the left-field fence.
Alec breezed the first one by him for a called strike. Then he steamed in two pitches that just missed the outside corner. Two balls, one strike.
Alec paused, then steamed in another pitch. “Ball three!” bellowed the ump.
Barry stepped out of the box for a moment, feeling good. Maybe Alec will walk me, he thought. At least it won’t be a strikeout.
Alex pitched. “Strike two!” cried the ump.
Barry took a deep breath. He really had to watch this next pitch. It came in. Barry swung. Whiff!
“You’re out!” shouted the ump.
Barry walked out of the box, feeling sick. One more strikeout and he — and Tommy — would never see that dog figurine again.
Turtleneck singled, and José got on by virtue of an error. Then T.V. flied out, and Randy struck out to end the top of the first inning.
Barry picked up his glove and ran out to left field, pulling his cap down tight again to keep the wind from blowing it off. It was blowing from right to left, an advantage for a left-handed hitter because the wind would tend to keep his ball in fair territory, a disadvantage for a right-handed hitter because the wind might blow it foul.
Only Tony Workman, the Bunkers’ third batter, and Alec, batting cleanup, got on base, but neither could score during the bottom of that inning.
Nicky Chong led off for the Mudders in the top of the second inning and flied out to center. Barry stepped out of the dugout, put on his helmet, and leisurely picked up his bat as he waited for Alfie to take his batting turn.
Alfie struck out. Oh, man, Barry thought. Alec’s on a roll today. He’s already got three strikeouts, including me.
Left-hander Zero Ford, the Mudders’ pitcher, lined Alec’s second pitch between first and second for a single, and Barry stepped into the batting box. Again he saw that smirk on Alec’s face, but he tried to ignore it. Just pitch it to me, Smart-Alec, he thought.
Alec did. “Strike one!” cried the ump.
In came another. “Strike two!”
Barry’s heart pounded. He stepped out of the box, tapped the end of the bat a couple of times against the plate, then stepped in again.
Alec pitched. It looked like another strike.
Barry swung. Crack! The ball left his bat and zoomed out between left and center field. Deep … deep … deep …
9
HOME RUN!
Barry almost knew it would be the moment he hit it. He carried the bat halfway down the baseline before he tossed it aside and ran around the bases. He heard the fans yelling and could hardly resist the temptation to turn and look at Alec and see the expression on his face.
But he didn’t look. He didn’t have to. He had gotten what he needed. A home run. All he needed was one more. But it’s not that easy, pal, he told himself. He’ll pitch differently to you the next time. He might even strike you out. You’re still in deep trouble no matter how you look at it.
The cheers stopped after the guys slapped fives with Barry and he sat down near the end of the dugout. Zero, who had also scored, sat beside him. Then Susan came and sat on his other side, giving him a big smile. “That was beautiful,” she praised him.
“Thanks,” he said. She was nice to him, but he knew she’d never forget the fly he had missed in last week’s game.
Turtleneck doubled, putting him in a position for another run. But José struck out on a two-two pitch, ending the top half of the inning and giving Alec his fourth strikeout. He’s really hot today, Barry thought worriedly as he picked up his glove and trotted out to left field.
Dick Strom, leading off for the Bunkers, drove a hot liner between Turtleneck and Sammy that went for two bases. Barry fielded the ball and whipped it to third to keep Dick from running there. Then Judd singled, driving in Dick.
“Close to the foul line, Barry!” T.V. yelled at him, motioning him over as Dave Apple came to the plate.
Dave blasted a long fly to deep left that went foul by inches, but Barry caught it for an out. Good ol’ T.V.! Barry thought.
Zero walked Jake Jacoby, and Fuzzy popped a fly to short. Then Ron Bush walked, and Tony grounded out to shortstop for the third out. Mudders 2, Bunkers 1.
Only Bus managed to get on base in the top of the third inning, and that was because of an error by the shortstop. Then Alec led off for the Bunkers and lambasted Zero’s first pitch for a homer over the center-field fence. It was, Barry thought, probably the longest hit he’d ever seen there.
Andy Campbell kept it rolling by cracking out a single. Dick walked. Judd popped up. Then Dave doubled to right center field, scoring two more runs. Zero fanned Jake for his first strikeout but walked Fuzzy. Ron singled over short, scoring the Bunkers’ fourth run. Then Tony laced a grounder to Bus, which Bus fielded for the third out. Mudders 2, Bunkers 5.
They’re really rolling, Barry thought, still worried as he and the rest of the Mudders trotted off the field to start the top half of the fourth inning. Alfie hit a hard one down to shortstop, which Fuzzy missed. Then Zero singled over short for his second hit, sending Alfie to second.
And Barry came up.
“Barry!” called the coach.
Oh, no! Barry thought as he glanced down toward the third-base coaching box. He’s not going to take me out, is he?
“Look those pitches over carefully,” Coach Parker advised, clapping his hands softly.
Barry nodded, took a deep, relieved breath, then stepped into the batter’s box. The first pitch was slightly low and inside. Barry let it go by.
“Strike!” said the ump.
Barry and the tall guy in the white pants and shirt exchanged looks. Then Barry got ready for the next pitch. It came steaming down the middle of the plate, and Barry swung.
Crack! A shallow drive to deep left center field!
Barry dropped the bat, raced to first … to second … to third …
He missed touching second base, but he couldn’t stop now. He kept going.
10
Barry saw Coach Parker holding up his hands as he came running in to third base, and he stopped there, breathing hard and sweating. He took off his helmet and cap and wiped the sweat off his forehead. Then he looked directly at the coach and nervously wondered, Did he see me miss second base? Did the umpire see me?
The coach was smiling. “Nice hit, Barry,” he said.
“Thanks,” said Barry. “But I …” He faltered. But I missed second base! he wanted to say. And no one saw me! I could get away with it, just like I got away with it the time I
missed that fly ball! But I can’t do that again! I won’t do it again! I wouldn’t be any better than Alec if I did!
He saw that Jake, the Bunkers’ third baseman, still had the ball, which had been thrown to him from left field. Calmly, Barry stepped off the bag.
“Barry, watch it!” shouted Coach Parker. But Barry showed no reaction that he had heard. Jake jumped toward him and tagged him out.
“Barry! Didn’t you know he had the ball?” the coach demanded.
Barry nodded. “Yes, Coach. But I hadn’t touched second base,” he said honestly, and loud enough for some of the crowd to hear him. “I figured I should be out, anyway.”
The coach stared at him, his mouth popping open. But no words came out.
José slammed a triple before the half-inning was over, and T.V. knocked him in, giving the Mudders one more run. They kept the Bunkers scoreless during the bottom half of the fourth, then came to bat in the top of the fifth with the score tied, Mudders 5, Bunkers 5. Barry worried about what he was going to do the next time he went to the plate.
Randy led off with a sharp single over Alec’s head. Then Nicky, after fouling off three successive pitches, flied out to center.
“Come on, Alfie,” Barry said as he stepped out of the dugout and picked up his bat. “Knock him in!”
Alfie walked.
Then Zero hit a steaming hot grounder down to third that looked like a sure out, but Jake bobbled it and all the runners were safe. The bases were loaded and Barry was the next batter.
He stepped up to the plate, his heart thumping. He could think of nothing but winning that figurine back from Alec. If Alec struck him out, it was over. If he knocked a home run, Tommy would get his figurine back. But knocking a home run was like asking for a trip to the moon. He’d had one home run already. Expecting to get two of them was too much to expect.
The Hit-Away Kid Page 2
