Read Online Parts & Labor by Mark Gimenez - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Mark Gimenez
Tags: school, aliens, bullies
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and forth in front of the bleachers like Butch, the backyard
neighbor's pit bull, in his dog run. When I got back to the dugout, Coach gave
me a look of disgust. I figured this was as good a time as any to ask the same
question I asked every game.
"Coach,
when can I play first base?"
"When
there's a Republican in the White House."
"Does
that mean no?"
"Yes,
that means no."
"Yes
means no? That's confusing."
"Get
out to left field."
I
was standing out in left field the next inning trying to get my cup adjusted. The
sun was blazing down, and it was getting pretty hot. I had broken out in a
full-body sweat, which made my skin chafe under the cup. Man, I was probably
going to get a nasty rash. The game was scoreless, but the White Sox had
loaded the bases with two outs. Vic was coming up to bat; he was their best
hitter. Cade, our pitcher, had walked three straight batters, so you couldn't
really blame me for what happened next. But I knew everyone on the team would.
I was paying really close attention until someone yelled at me.
"You're
a dork, Max!"
I
turned to see who it wasâBiff, Bud, and Rod were taunting me from the visitors'
dugout, which was down the third base line not far from where I was standingâand
I was thinking of a witty retort when I heard the ping of Vic's aluminum
bat hitting the ball. When I looked back to the field, everyone was looking at
me, which meant only one thing: the ball was coming at me. I looked up just
in time to see the ball before it hit me in the head.
Three
runs scored.
I
was lying on the ground, but I heard the fans laughingâyou learn pretty fast
that spectators at a youth sporting event are a tough crowd. Coach Slimes and
my teammates were gathered around, and I was gazing up at them, but they didn't
seem at all worried that I might have a concussion. I didn't, because the ball
hit the bill of my cap and bounced off, but you'd think Coach would have at
least asked if I was okay. Instead he said, "Max, that's a three-run
error! You cost us the game!"
Coach
knew how to make a kid feel good.
Vic
stood on third base with a big grin on his face. He yelled, "Thanks, Max!"
I
got up off the ground to a weak smattering of applause because I hadn't suffered
permanent brain damage. Thankfully my mom had stayed in the stands; if she had
come out to check on me, the guys would have teased me mercilessly. The next
batter grounded out to first, and I trudged over to the dugout. The other kids
gave me the evil eye and acted totally disgusted with me.
"Way
to go, Max," Mitch said.
"You
lost the game for us, Max," Skipper said.
"I
had a shutout, Max," Cade said, "and you ruined it for me!"
"You
walked three batters," I said.
"That
umpire's blind!"
I
sat on the bench and fought tears. I turned to the bleachers. Mom's head hung low. Scarlett's hands covered her face. Maddy had finally come down from her
sugar high and crash-landed in Mom's lap. Her eyes were shut. Norbert's were
not; he was staring at me. It was weird, but his expression made me think he
could hear what the other kids were saying to me. I gave him a lame shrug.
It
was now the bottom of the last inning, and we were in the dugout. We were
still losing 3-0, so everyone had already put this game in the loss column and
moved on to other more pressing matters. O-Rod and Curtis were debating whether
Emmitt Smith or Michael Irvin was the best ex-Dallas Cowboy to compete on Dancing
with the Stars ⦠Joey and Skipper were arguing over which video game
offered more blood and guts, Modern Warfare II or Medal of Honor ⦠Mitch was sitting next to me and telling me about how his stepmom was a
mean witch but his dad didn't believe him because she was twenty-five and
looked like a supermodel ⦠and Ronald was pacing the dugout like a TV
preacher addressing his congregation:
"The
stimulus was a joke. They're raising our taxes and choosing our doctors, and if
this cap and trade passes, there won't be any jobs for us
neighbor's pit bull, in his dog run. When I got back to the dugout, Coach gave
me a look of disgust. I figured this was as good a time as any to ask the same
question I asked every game.
"Coach,
when can I play first base?"
"When
there's a Republican in the White House."
"Does
that mean no?"
"Yes,
that means no."
"Yes
means no? That's confusing."
"Get
out to left field."
I
was standing out in left field the next inning trying to get my cup adjusted. The
sun was blazing down, and it was getting pretty hot. I had broken out in a
full-body sweat, which made my skin chafe under the cup. Man, I was probably
going to get a nasty rash. The game was scoreless, but the White Sox had
loaded the bases with two outs. Vic was coming up to bat; he was their best
hitter. Cade, our pitcher, had walked three straight batters, so you couldn't
really blame me for what happened next. But I knew everyone on the team would.
I was paying really close attention until someone yelled at me.
"You're
a dork, Max!"
I
turned to see who it wasâBiff, Bud, and Rod were taunting me from the visitors'
dugout, which was down the third base line not far from where I was standingâand
I was thinking of a witty retort when I heard the ping of Vic's aluminum
bat hitting the ball. When I looked back to the field, everyone was looking at
me, which meant only one thing: the ball was coming at me. I looked up just
in time to see the ball before it hit me in the head.
Three
runs scored.
I
was lying on the ground, but I heard the fans laughingâyou learn pretty fast
that spectators at a youth sporting event are a tough crowd. Coach Slimes and
my teammates were gathered around, and I was gazing up at them, but they didn't
seem at all worried that I might have a concussion. I didn't, because the ball
hit the bill of my cap and bounced off, but you'd think Coach would have at
least asked if I was okay. Instead he said, "Max, that's a three-run
error! You cost us the game!"
Coach
knew how to make a kid feel good.
Vic
stood on third base with a big grin on his face. He yelled, "Thanks, Max!"
I
got up off the ground to a weak smattering of applause because I hadn't suffered
permanent brain damage. Thankfully my mom had stayed in the stands; if she had
come out to check on me, the guys would have teased me mercilessly. The next
batter grounded out to first, and I trudged over to the dugout. The other kids
gave me the evil eye and acted totally disgusted with me.
"Way
to go, Max," Mitch said.
"You
lost the game for us, Max," Skipper said.
"I
had a shutout, Max," Cade said, "and you ruined it for me!"
"You
walked three batters," I said.
"That
umpire's blind!"
I
sat on the bench and fought tears. I turned to the bleachers. Mom's head hung low. Scarlett's hands covered her face. Maddy had finally come down from her
sugar high and crash-landed in Mom's lap. Her eyes were shut. Norbert's were
not; he was staring at me. It was weird, but his expression made me think he
could hear what the other kids were saying to me. I gave him a lame shrug.
It
was now the bottom of the last inning, and we were in the dugout. We were
still losing 3-0, so everyone had already put this game in the loss column and
moved on to other more pressing matters. O-Rod and Curtis were debating whether
Emmitt Smith or Michael Irvin was the best ex-Dallas Cowboy to compete on Dancing
with the Stars ⦠Joey and Skipper were arguing over which video game
offered more blood and guts, Modern Warfare II or Medal of Honor ⦠Mitch was sitting next to me and telling me about how his stepmom was a
mean witch but his dad didn't believe him because she was twenty-five and
looked like a supermodel ⦠and Ronald was pacing the dugout like a TV
preacher addressing his congregation:
"The
stimulus was a joke. They're raising our taxes and choosing our doctors, and if
this cap and trade passes, there won't be any jobs for us
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