Read Online Playing for Keeps by Joan Lowery Nixon - Free Book Online Page A

other countries, like Venezuela? Or in the Atlanta Olympics, or the International World Cup? Couldn’t you have just walked out of your hotel and into an American embassy?”
    Ricky’s mouth twisted. “I have not played for the Cuban National team in the United States. I have been allowed to play only in Central and South American countries. When we traveled, we did not stay in dormitories or hotels, as teams from other countries do. Cots were set up for us in the basement rooms of the stadiums. We slept and ate there under guard. We never left the stadiums until it was time for us to board the planes to fly back to Cuba.”
    Neil thought a moment before he spoke. “Just a short time ago, two of your Cuban ballplayers asked the United States for political asylum. Rigoberto Herrera Betancourt, one of your pitching coaches, disappeared in Baltimore while the Cuban National team was on the way to the airport after winning over the Orioles. He showed up at a police station and asked for political asylum. He was offered a job with Madison’s Black Wolf team.”
    “He had help,” Ricky said quietly. “Like the help Uncle Martín is getting for me.”
    Neil looked serious. “The other one was Andy Morales. He was sent back.”
    Ricky shivered, rubbing his upper arms as if he were cold. “He tried to escape by boat with around thirty other people. The boat ran out of fuel twentyfive miles from the Florida Keys, and the United States Coast Guard intercepted them. The Immigration and Naturalization Service sent all of them back to Cuba. That is the rule. If you’re picked up at sea, you’re sent back. If you set foot on U.S. soil, you can ask for asylum.”
    My heart gave a jump as I thought of what it would be like to be sent back to Cuba. “What happened to Andy Morales?” I asked.
    “It was announced that he had decided to quit baseball, since he was overrated as a player, and had chosen instead to work for the Cuban National Sports Institute, overseeing sports programs,” Ricky said.
    “Oh, well, if he was overrated—” I began, but Ricky interrupted.
    “That is not true. That is what the government announced. That is what the press reported. Anyone who tries to escape Cuba is publicly discredited. I know Andy. I know how he loves baseball and what a good player he is. And I do not believe giving it up was his choice.”
    I looked at my watch again. It was five minutes to four. The ship was supposed to leave the harbor at four. Glory would be here soon to change for dinner. I had to break into the conversation.
    “Neil, someone from Cuba is on this ship searching for Ricky,” I said. “We can’t let them find him. You said that your stateroom was connected to your grandmother’s but separate. Could he share your stateroom for a while? Can you keep him hidden?”
    “Yes,” Neil said. He turned to Ricky. “We can stop off at your uncle’s stateroom and get your clothes.”
    “That would not be wise!” Ricky exclaimed. “The stateroom may be watched.”
    Neil shrugged. “We’re about the same size. You can borrow some of my clothes for now.” A smile flickered on his face as he said to me, “Except for my Hawaiian shirts.”
    “Will there be any problem with your grandmother?” I asked Neil. “Is there any chance she’ll discover Ricky?”
    “None,” Neil said. “Grandma is hard of hearing and has poor eyesight. Besides, she always knocks and waits for me to open the door to my room. We won’t have trouble keeping her from knowing Ricky is there. He’ll have time to duck into the bathroom to hide.”
    The jangle of the telephone made me jump. As I reached for the receiver I realized my hands were shaking. “Y-yes?” I asked.
    “Rosie,” Glory said, “at least I found
you
. Do you have any idea where Neil is?”
    “He’s here,” I answered, quickly adding, “There’s a bunch of us here.”
    “Well, I’m in Eloise’s stateroom,” Glory told me. “I helped her dress for dinner.