Read Online Mickey & Me by Dan Gutman - Free Book Online

Tiby flips her pigtails, that means you steal third. Got it?”
    â€œUh, yeah,” I replied. “Tiby is the one with glasses and blond hair, right?”
    â€œYeah. And if you see her sign, you let Max know by touching the hem of your skirt.”
    â€œWhat’s a hem?”
    â€œThe bottom part.”
    â€œOkay.”
    This was complicated. Until this season, the “steal” sign of my Little League team was when one of the coaches shouted “Steal!”
    Betty Whiting, the Chicks right fielder, was up. I took a few short steps off first base, keeping an eye on the pitcher. She was watching me out of the corner of her eye. I wanted to get a good jump, but I had to be careful not to get too far off first or I’d get picked off.
    â€œStrike her out!” the catcher hollered. “Nobatter. No batter.”
    The pitcher went into her windup and I took off. Betty swung and missed, which served to prevent the catcher from charging forward to make the throw to second.
    I dug my cleats into the hard infield dirt, pumping my legs as fast as I could move them. The Peaches shortstop was coming over to take the throw. The stupid skirt was getting in the way of my legs as I ran. Five feet from the bag, I hit the dirt, hooking my toe around the right side of the base just like Coach Tropiano had taught me. I held a hand to my head to prevent my cap from flying off. The shortstop caught the ball on a hop and slapped the tag on my leg.
    â€œSafe!” called the umpire, who had run out from behind the plate.
    The players in the Chicks dugout were on their feet, screaming for me. I got up and dusted the dirt off my skirt.
    â€œWay to go, Josephine!” Mickey hollered.
    â€œThatagirl!”
    Standing on second base, I took a moment to catch my breath and make sure the shortstop threw the ball back to the pitcher. I didn’t want her to pull the old “hidden ball” trick on me.
    â€œYou must be new,” the shortstop said to me.
    â€œYeah,” I said in a fake high voice. “This is my first game.”
    â€œSay, a bunch of us are going dancing tonight,”she said. “Wanna come?”
    â€œI can’t,” I replied. “I’m…uh…getting my hair done.” Girls are always getting their hair done, I figured.
    â€œReally? Are you getting a perm? You’d look good with a perm.”
    â€œYeah,” I agreed, “a perm.”
    I didn’t know what a perm was, but I seemed to remember my mom got one once. She came home and her hair was all curly. She looked like Little Orphan Annie.
    â€œJosephine!” Max Carey shouted from the third-base coaching box. “Stop squawking and get your head in the game!”
    I looked to the dugout. Tiby was frantically flipping her pigtails. That meant Max wanted me to steal third! I touched the hem of my skirt to let him know I had seen the sign.
    â€œGood luck with your perm.” The shortstop giggled. I had the feeling that she had only been trying to distract me by talking about my hair.
    By stealing second base, I had made it so that the Peaches could not get a double play or even a force-out on a ground ball. There was no pressure to steal third on the next pitch, so I just watched Betty take it for a called strike two. She swung and missed at the next one. One out.
    Ziggy was up next. I didn’t know if she was a good hitter, but she was waving her bat around menacingly. She watched two pitches out of thestrike zone. I figured if I stayed close to second base, the Peaches pitcher might not think I was a threat to steal third and she wouldn’t pay such close attention to me.
    It’s harder to steal third base than it is to steal second, because the distance from the catcher is much shorter. I knew I would need to get a really big jump on the pitcher.
    The shortstop wasn’t holding me on, so I got a good walking lead off the base. As soon as the pitcher windmilled her