by Fred Bowen
“One out,” Adam said, tossing the ball back to Jake.
Jake ran a few steps toward the house, leaned to his left, and threw hard and low to his right. The fake worked. The grounder skipped just past the diving Adam for a single.
“Nice hit,” Adam said. “Are you gonna bring out your secret home-run ball now?”
Jake looked up at the house for his special spot. He knew if he threw the ball too high or too low it wouldn’t make it to the fence. But if he hit his spot at the right angle, the ball would fly over the fence and he would finally beat Adam at something.
“One out, one runner on,” Jake said, making sure Adam knew he had two chances to come back.
“Oh no.” Adam grinned. “I’m in trouble now. How far back can I play?”
“You have to start even with the bush,” Jake said, pointing to the side of the yard. He looked back at the house, eyed his spot, then took two steps forward and threw hard. His throw was a little off and the ball floated too high.
Adam raced back and said in his best announcer voice, “It’s a long drive. Hull is going back … back … back. He has room, and he … makes the catch!”
Adam threw the ball to Jake. “Daley’s down to his last at bat,” he said, still using his announcer’s voice. “Hull leads by one run.”
Jake fixed his eyes on his special spot again. He took two steps and threw. This time, the ball hit its mark at just the right angle and flew high into the afternoon sky. Jake turned, certain he had his home run and his victory.
Adam sprinted to the fence. This time there was no announcer’s voice. He turned and leaped, stretching his gloved hand back over the fence as far as he could. The ball disappeared. Adam bounced off the fence and tumbled to the ground with his glove, now closed, underneath him. He got up slowly and walked in with his hands hanging at his sides, his glove still shut tight.
Jake ran toward Adam with both fists held high in triumph like a boxer who had just scored a knockout. “I win!” he declared. “Finally.”
“Not so fast,” Adam said. He opened his glove and tossed the yellow tennis ball to Jake. “I win,” he said with a smile. “Two to one.”
Chapter 9
Wh … what?” Jake stammered. “There’s no way you caught that ball.”
“Then how did it get in my glove?” Adam asked, still smiling.
“I can’t believe it!” Jake screamed, slapping the sides of his legs. “I can’t beat you at anything.”
Just then Adam’s cell phone rang and he pulled it from his pocket.
“Hi, Mom … yeah … okay. Love ya. Bye.” He turned to Jake. “My mom says she’ll be here in twenty minutes.”
Oh no, Jake thought. Twenty more minutes playing Outs with Adam.
“Let’s get something to eat,” Jake said.
“Sure.” Adam followed him inside to the kitchen, where Jake’s sister Ivy was making popcorn. Mr. Daley sat at the table, reading something on his laptop.
“Hi, guys. How’s it going?” Mr. Daley said.
“Adam’s mom is picking him up soon,” Jake was quick to point out.
“Okay,” Mr. Daley said.
Jake squeezed tight on the tennis ball as he glanced at his father and then at Adam.
“Is everything all right?” Mr. Daley asked, looking at Jake.
“Yeah.” Jake nodded. “Everything’s fine.” Except I can’t wait for Adam to leave, he added to himself.
“So Adam, how many home runs have you hit this season?” Mr. Daley asked, filling the awkward silence.
“I don’t know,” Adam said. “A bunch, I guess.”
“I have the team stats right here,” Mr. Daley said as he pulled them up on his computer. “I think you have at least five.”
“I saw one,” Ivy blurted out, as she emptied the warm bag of popcorn into a bowl. “You hit it really far.”
“Dad, I thought you didn’t like us looking at our stats before the end of the season,” Jake reminded his father.
“I’m just curious,” Mr. Daley said. He studied the numbers on his screen. “Yep, I was right. You have five home runs. You’re batting over .600 and you have twenty-four runs batted in.” He leaned back and shook his head. “You’ve had one terrific season already, Adam, and it isn’t over.”
“Hey, Ivy, can I have some of that popcorn?” Jake asked. He wasn’t interested in talking about Adam’s stats.
“You’re hitting really well, and you’re pitching great too,” Mr. Daley said. “Which do you like better?”
“I like them both, I guess,” Adam said. “I just like to play.”
“Well, after high school more than 40 percent of the players are pitchers. So you may want to concentrate on pitching. You might even get a college scholarship.”
Bing-bong. The Daleys’ doorbell rang, and Mrs. Hull rushed in with Adam’s little brother Chad tagging along.
“Is everything all right?” Mr. Daley asked.
“Oh, fine … fine,” she answered, a bit out of breath. “I just wanted to get here quickly. I worry about Adam wearing out his welcome.”
“He’s no problem at all,” Mr. Daley said. “The boys have fun together.”
Just then Jake’s mom walked into the kitchen. “Oh, hi,” she said to Mrs. Hull and Chad. “How are you?”
“Good, thanks,” Mrs. Hull said. She looked from Mrs. Daley to Mr. Daley and back again. “I was wondering whether Jake might like to sleep over at our house tonight?”
Mr. and Mrs. Daley exchanged glances. “Are you sure that’s okay?” Mrs. Daley asked. “You’ll have your hands full with three boys.”
Mrs. Hull laughed. “I already have my hands full with two. Besides, you’ve both been so good to Adam, this is a way for me to say thanks.”
“Yeah, it’ll be cool,” Adam said to Jake. “I’ll show you my room. We can watch a movie and—”
“We’ve, um, got a big game tomorrow,” Jake said softly.
Mr. Daley glanced up at the schedule posted on the refrigerator behind a thick magnet. “The game isn’t until noon,” he said. “So you boys should be able to get plenty of sleep.” He looked at Mrs. Hull. “Should Jake bring a sleeping bag?”
“No, we have plenty.”
“Jake can sleep in my bed if he wants,” Adam said. “I can sleep on the floor.”
Jake stood in the middle of everyone, feeling as if he were invisible. He didn’t want to sleep over at Adam’s house. The truth was that Jake was tired of Adam. He was tired of him always hanging around after school, tired of him always being the star of the team, and tired of him being better than Jake at everything. Even Outs.
“So how about it?” Mrs. Hull smiled at Jake. “Would you like to be one of the Hull brothers for a night?”
No, Jake wanted to say. But he knew he didn’t really have a choice.
Chapter 10
Mrs. Hull pulled into the driveway and turned off the car lights.
“Come on, Jake, you’ve never seen my house,” Adam said as he bounced out of the car. “I want to show you my room.”
Jake got out of the car slowly and looked at the Hulls’ house. It was smaller than Jake’s. Large, overgrown bushes hid some of the windows and the grass on the front lawn was high.
“Wait just a minute,” Mrs. Hull said. “Could you boys help with the grocery bags?” Adam and Jake grabbed the two bags and Chad followed close behind as they all walked up to the front door. “You’ll have to excuse the house,” Mrs. Hull said to Jake as she turned the key in the lock. “I haven’t had time to pick up.” She turned on a light and stepped into a messy kitchen. Dishes and glasses were piled in the sink and along the counter. The pale green refrigerator was covered with photos of Adam and Chad.
Adam’s mom set her purse down on the crowded counter and started to put the groceries away. She pulled a frozen pizza from one of the bags. “I’ll put this in the oven for you guys,” she said, as a large black dog bounded into the kitchen. Jake stepped back.
“Oh, that
’s just Fenway,” she said. “Don’t worry, he’s very friendly. Adam, be sure to get him outside soon. I don’t want him to pee on the rug again.”
Adam scratched Fenway behind the ears. The dog’s large pink tongue slipped out of his mouth and his tail wagged. Jake took a half step forward and let the dog nuzzle his hand, then petted the dog’s head. Fenway licked his hand.
“What kind of dog is he?” Jake asked.
“I don’t know,” Mrs. Hull answered. “We got him from the pound.”
“He’s a mutt,” Adam said. “My dad calls him an all-American dog.”
“Why don’t you go show Jake your room, Adam?” Mrs. Hull suggested.
The boys walked through a small living room that had a television, a large couch, and two folding chairs. Down the hall, Jake saw two bedrooms next to each other.
“That’s my mom’s room,” Adam said, pointing. “And this is where me and Chad sleep.”
He flicked on the overhead light. Twin beds were pressed against opposite walls. A dresser with a pile of clothes on top was at one end of the room. Sports posters were taped to the walls. A rug with the helmets of all thirty-two National Football League teams covered the floor between the beds.
Coming up behind the boys, Mrs. Hull said, “Jake, you can sleep in a sleeping bag on the floor between the beds,” she said. “Or maybe Adam or Chad could give you his bed.”
“I’ll sleep on the floor,” Adam offered quickly.
“I wanna sleep on the floor,” Chad whined.
Mrs. Hull held up her hands. “Maybe we should let Chad sleep in between you two. So what do you boys want to do tonight?”
“I figured we’d watch Major League.” Adam turned to Jake. “Ever seen it?”
“No.”
“It’s cool. Come on.”
“The pizza should be done soon. I’ll bring it to you as soon as it’s ready,” Mrs. Hull said.
A few minutes later, all three boys were sitting on the couch, watching the movie and eating pizza. Fenway lay in a ball on the floor and Mrs. Hull cleaned up the kitchen. Jake heard a loud knock on the door and looked up from the movie.
Mrs. Hull stopped working and glanced over at Adam. She pulled back a shade from the small window by the door. Letting out a long breath, she opened the door a crack. “What do you want?” she asked in a flat voice.
“Oh, this is a good part,” Chad said, pointing at the TV. But Jake could see that Adam was watching the door, not the movie. Mrs. Hull opened it wider. A tall man wearing a baseball hat and a gray sweatshirt stepped into the kitchen.
“Dad!” Chad shouted. “Is it next weekend?”
“No,” Mr. Hull said, smiling. “I just have to talk to your mother, okay?”
“Okay with me,” Adam answered with the same flat voice as his mother’s.
Mr. and Mrs. Hull sat at the kitchen table, talking. The boys kept watching the movie. Adam stared at the TV, but he wasn’t laughing.
Jake heard bits of the Hulls’ conversation above the movie.
“… what about me?”
“… who do you think is going to pay for this?”
“I told you, I didn’t want …”
Their voices grew louder, the harsh whispers clashing with the happy sounds of the movie.
“Keep your voice down,” Mrs. Hull said finally. “Adam has a friend over.” She glanced toward the boys. “Your dad and I are going out onto the back steps.”
Adam nodded. Mrs. Hull stepped out first. Mr. Hull looked back. “I’ll see you guys next weekend.”
“See you, Dad,” Chad said, waving.
“I’ll try to make one of your games this week, Adam,” Mr. Hull added.
“Okay,” Adam said. “See ya, Dad.”
Mr. Hull stayed in the doorway. “How’s the team doing, anyway?”
Adam brightened. “If we win tomorrow, we’ll be in the championship game.”
“Hey, that’s great,” Mr. Hull said, then stepped outside. The door closed, but Jake could still hear Adam’s parents’ voices above the movie. Adam grabbed a pillow off the sofa and pulled it tight across his chest.
The voices outside grew louder.
“… what if I say no?”
“I don’t care. I’ve made up my mind.”
“Have you talked to them?”
Jake looked over at Adam. His friend quickly glanced away and pulled the pillow even tighter.
Mrs. Hull stepped back into the kitchen alone and called to the living room: “You boys go to bed right after the movie. Don’t stay up late, you have a game tomorrow. And remember to brush your teeth.”
Later, Chad lay in his sleeping bag on the rug between the two boys. He kept talking about the movie. Adam didn’t say much. “I’m pretty tired,” he said finally and turned toward the wall. “Good night.”
Jake drifted off to sleep but woke up a few hours later. He could hear the soft rhythms of Adam and Chad breathing in the darkness. The digital clock on the dresser said 1:38. Jake tossed back the covers and tiptoed carefully around Chad. He noticed there was a light still on in the living room.
Mrs. Hull sat on the couch. The television was off and Fenway was sleeping on the floor.
“Who is it?” Mrs. Hull asked as Jake stepped out of the bedroom.
“Just me, Mrs. Hull,” Jake said, peeking into the living room.
“Are you okay, honey?”
“I just woke up, that’s all,” Jake said. “I have to go to the bathroom.”
“Do you know where it is?”
“Yeah. Thanks.”
Mrs. Hull looked at Jake with tired eyes. “I guess this house isn’t like your house,” she said.
Chapter 11
The Red Sox ran toward the bench. “Come on, everybody, we can come back,” Coach Sanders said. “We’re only down one run.”
Jake glanced at the scoreboard beyond the center-field fence.
One run down in the bottom of the fourth, he thought as he pounded his fist into his glove. If we come back and win, we’ll be in the championship game.
“Michael, Kyle, and then the top of the order,” Jake’s dad called.
Ryan sat down next to Jake. “No sweat, we’re gonna win,” he said. “We’ve still got Adam.” He looked around. “Hey, where is Adam?”
Jake looked down the bench. His friend was sitting at the very end. He didn’t look happy. Jake got up and went over to sit next to him. “Hey, are you okay?” he asked.
Adam shrugged and craned his neck toward the left-field line. Jake looked down the line and saw Mr. Hull leaning against the side of the metal stands. “Hey, your dad’s here,” Jake said.
“Yeah,” Adam said. “Hope my mom doesn’t show up.”
“Don’t worry,” Jake said as he pushed off the bench. “Come on, we’ve got a game to win.” He turned around to the field and shouted, “Let’s go, Michael, start us off.”
Michael smacked a quick comebacker to the pitcher for the first out. But Kyle blooped a pop fly over the shortstop’s head for a single. The Red Sox had a runner on first base with one out.
Jake took a few steps and looked back at Adam. He was staring out toward the field but not cheering. Tucked in the corner of the Red Sox bench, Adam didn’t seem so big and confident anymore.
Chris struck out swinging, so there were two outs when Jake stepped into the batter’s box.
“Remember, Jake, swing level,” his dad called from the bench. “Come on, Adam, grab a helmet. You’re on deck.”
Jake let the first pitch go by. “Strike one,” the umpire called. Jake stepped out of the batter’s box, took a deep breath, and dug in again.
His father shouted encouragement. “Only takes one. Just like in practice. You can do it, Jake.”
Jake met an inside fastball and sent a line drive sizzling down the left-field baseline. Fair ball!
He raced to first base and then sped toward second. The left fielder went deep into the left-field corner, caught the ball on a bounce, and fired it
back into the infield. Kyle slid safe into third base. Now the Red Sox had runners at second and third and two outs, with Adam coming to bat. “Bring us in!” Jake shouted, clapping his hands at second base.
The first pitch cut the heart of the plate. Adam started to swing, but held back. Strike one.
Even out at second base, Jake could hear Adam’s father’s voice above the noise of the crowd. “Come on, swing the bat. Be ready. Don’t be a looker.”
Adam tried to kill the next pitch but swung under it, just grazing the bottom of the ball with the top of his bat. The ball flew above the infield, a harmless pop-up to shortstop. Jake jogged without hope to third base.
The shortstop caught the ball for the third out.
“Come on, Adam. What kind of swing was that?” Mr. Hull shouted.
Jake really felt sorry for Adam now. His friend’s shoulders were slumped as he headed back to the bench for his glove.
The Red Sox were still behind by a run. The score stayed that way for the next inning and a half. “Last ups and final inning!” Coach Sanders shouted as the Red Sox got ready to bat in the bottom of the sixth. “We need base runners. Who’s on deck?”
Mr. Daley called out the batting order. “Khalil. Michael. Kyle. Start us off.”
Khalil slapped a hard grounder to the left side of the infield. The Tigers third baseman scooped it up and made a strong throw to first base. One out.
Michael hit another ground ball, but this one found a hole between the first and second basemen. He dashed to first base.
The Red Sox had a runner on! The players bounced off the bench and started cheering like crazy. All the players except Adam. Jake looked back and saw his friend still sitting there. But Jake couldn’t worry about Adam right now. The Red Sox were fighting to come back.
Coach Sanders flashed a signal and Kyle laid a perfect bunt down the third-base line. The Tigers third baseman barehanded the ball and threw off-balance to first base. The ball skipped a few yards past the first baseman and the Red Sox runners hustled to move up a base. The Red Sox now had runners at second and third, with one out.
