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Authors: Linda Sue Park
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on my wall near the picture of Willie, so now I have "Say-Hey" and "Jay-Hey" right next to each other, ha ha!
Maggie shared all of Jim's letters with Treecie. The next time Treecie came over, Maggie showed her the photo he had sent.
"Pretty good shot," Treecie said. "Good lighting on their faces." She held it up and narrowed her eyes a little. "But they're too centered. I'd have shifted things so they were more to the side. See, if the subject is off-center, your eye gets drawn to it, so you have to look at the whole thing, not just the middle."
Maggie hadn't even noticed whether Jim and Jay-Hey were in the middle or not.
Treecie sees the photo first. I see what's
in
the photo first.
Jim and Jay were standing in front of a tent. The tent had a wooden door and a canvas roof. Jim was wearing his army uniform and a cap. Jay had on a white T-shirt and trousers the same shade as Jim's and a cap like Jim's too. A piece of heavy cord was tied tight around Jay's middle, scrunching up the waistband of the pants to make them fit.
Jim was smiling broadly. Jay was smiling too, but not as much; Maggie thought maybe he felt a little shy about having his picture taken.
She tilted her head at Treecie. "Do you think Jim's teaching him to keep score too? Or just how to play?"
Treecie rolled her eyes. "Are you crazy?
I
can't even keep score, and I've been a baseball fan for ages!"
They giggled. Maggie had tried to teach Treecie to keep score last season. After only a few minutes, Treecie had stopped the lesson and declared, "Sheesh. I like baseball, but not THIS much."
Maggie couldn't understand it. Keeping score was so much funâhow could anyone
not
want to do it?
"I wish it could be a job," she said now.
"You wish what could be a job?"
"Keeping score of Dodger games."
Treecie tapped her chin with one finger. "Maybe it is."
"Maybe it is what?"
"Well, you know the stuff in the newspaper, the box scores and stuff you're always looking at? Somebody must keep track of all that." Treecie's eyes lit up. "Wow, if it
is
a job, it would be
perfect
for you!"
Maggie furrowed her brow. Treecie's words had brought to mind a certain kind of play. A batter would hit the ball, but it wouldn't go very farâit would stay in the infield. The batter would get to first base safely. Sometimes it was because the ball was hit in such a way that the fielder couldn't possibly reach it in time. That was scored as a hit. Other times, when the fielder messed up, it was an error. Maggie couldn't write the play down until the radio announcer said something like, "That'll be an error on the shortstop, according to the official scorer."
The official scorer.
She had heard those words many times but had never really thought about them. Maybe Treecie was rightâmaybe scoring games
was
a job, and if it was, maybe it was something she could do when she grew up. It was the first time Maggie had given any serious thought to one of Treecie's career ideas.
"You know what would help him?" Treecie said. "Jay, I mean."
"Help him what?"
"Help him learn about baseball quicker. Baseball cards. You should send him some, I bet he'd like that."
Treecie was a genius, and Maggie told her so. In her next letter to Jim, Maggie sent two packs of baseball cards for Jay-Hey.
Jim's reply took longer than usual to arrive. For three Saturdays in a row, Mr. Armstrong called out
"Sorry, Maggie-o" as soon as he saw her. Then, on the last day of school, an envelope from Korea was waiting on the hall table.
Dear Maggie-o,
Sorry I haven't written in a while, but I'll tell you why a little later in this letter. WOW, does Jay love those cards you sent. He looks at them a hundred times a day and asks me about a million questions about the stats! They're already getting pretty worn out and me too, I'm worn out from answering all his questions, ha ha.
Anyway, me and Jay-Hey were working on something and it's finally ready, so that's why it's taken so long to send this letter.
Maggie shared all of Jim's letters with Treecie. The next time Treecie came over, Maggie showed her the photo he had sent.
"Pretty good shot," Treecie said. "Good lighting on their faces." She held it up and narrowed her eyes a little. "But they're too centered. I'd have shifted things so they were more to the side. See, if the subject is off-center, your eye gets drawn to it, so you have to look at the whole thing, not just the middle."
Maggie hadn't even noticed whether Jim and Jay-Hey were in the middle or not.
Treecie sees the photo first. I see what's
in
the photo first.
Jim and Jay were standing in front of a tent. The tent had a wooden door and a canvas roof. Jim was wearing his army uniform and a cap. Jay had on a white T-shirt and trousers the same shade as Jim's and a cap like Jim's too. A piece of heavy cord was tied tight around Jay's middle, scrunching up the waistband of the pants to make them fit.
Jim was smiling broadly. Jay was smiling too, but not as much; Maggie thought maybe he felt a little shy about having his picture taken.
She tilted her head at Treecie. "Do you think Jim's teaching him to keep score too? Or just how to play?"
Treecie rolled her eyes. "Are you crazy?
I
can't even keep score, and I've been a baseball fan for ages!"
They giggled. Maggie had tried to teach Treecie to keep score last season. After only a few minutes, Treecie had stopped the lesson and declared, "Sheesh. I like baseball, but not THIS much."
Maggie couldn't understand it. Keeping score was so much funâhow could anyone
not
want to do it?
"I wish it could be a job," she said now.
"You wish what could be a job?"
"Keeping score of Dodger games."
Treecie tapped her chin with one finger. "Maybe it is."
"Maybe it is what?"
"Well, you know the stuff in the newspaper, the box scores and stuff you're always looking at? Somebody must keep track of all that." Treecie's eyes lit up. "Wow, if it
is
a job, it would be
perfect
for you!"
Maggie furrowed her brow. Treecie's words had brought to mind a certain kind of play. A batter would hit the ball, but it wouldn't go very farâit would stay in the infield. The batter would get to first base safely. Sometimes it was because the ball was hit in such a way that the fielder couldn't possibly reach it in time. That was scored as a hit. Other times, when the fielder messed up, it was an error. Maggie couldn't write the play down until the radio announcer said something like, "That'll be an error on the shortstop, according to the official scorer."
The official scorer.
She had heard those words many times but had never really thought about them. Maybe Treecie was rightâmaybe scoring games
was
a job, and if it was, maybe it was something she could do when she grew up. It was the first time Maggie had given any serious thought to one of Treecie's career ideas.
"You know what would help him?" Treecie said. "Jay, I mean."
"Help him what?"
"Help him learn about baseball quicker. Baseball cards. You should send him some, I bet he'd like that."
Treecie was a genius, and Maggie told her so. In her next letter to Jim, Maggie sent two packs of baseball cards for Jay-Hey.
Jim's reply took longer than usual to arrive. For three Saturdays in a row, Mr. Armstrong called out
"Sorry, Maggie-o" as soon as he saw her. Then, on the last day of school, an envelope from Korea was waiting on the hall table.
Dear Maggie-o,
Sorry I haven't written in a while, but I'll tell you why a little later in this letter. WOW, does Jay love those cards you sent. He looks at them a hundred times a day and asks me about a million questions about the stats! They're already getting pretty worn out and me too, I'm worn out from answering all his questions, ha ha.
Anyway, me and Jay-Hey were working on something and it's finally ready, so that's why it's taken so long to send this letter.
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