speed.
The weird thing was, he was starting to hit a little better, getting at least one solid hit a day. OnFriday, Nick’s last time up, he had doubled off Gary Watson, the best knock he’d gotten yet, driving home a couple of runs and making it into second base standing up.
The hit seemed to make Gary Watson even more annoyed with Nick than usual.
The next guy up against him was Joey Johnson. And even though Nick wasn’t taking any kind of lead, Gary wheeled before his first pitch to Joey and tried to pick Nick off. Nick dove back to the bag, because the last thing he was going to let happen after his first big hit as a varsity player—even if it was only in practice—was to get himself picked off second base because he’d let Jack Elmore sneak in behind him.
Gary’s throw hit him right in the back.
Hard.
Nick was sure he’d done it on purpose. Gary hadn’t tried to pick anybody off second all day, and he wasn’t that wild. In the big leagues, you knew when a pitcher wanted to hit a batter. Nick was sure this was just as intentional, even if Gary was throwing toward second instead of to the plate.
“Sorry, dude,” Gary said, mostly for the benefit of his teammates and Coach Williams.
“No problem,” Nick said, dusting dirt off the front of his shirt.
The ball had hurt him. But no way he was going to show Gary that. It was part of what the announcers called the code of the game that you weren’t supposed to rub after you got hit by the ball, no matter what.
Jack Elmore was still standing next to second when Gary turned back toward home plate.
He leaned in toward Nick, like he was still trying to keep him close. “Know why he hit you where he did?” Jack said.
“Why?”
Jack gave him a quick slap on the side of his leg with his glove. “’Cause he thought it would be too obvious trying to bounce one off your helmet, that’s why.”
Practice ended ten minutes later. Nick had somehow managed to survive the week. The only good thing that had happened was that double off Gary Watson. And even that turned out to be painful.
Only Jack had made any real effort to make him feel welcome. Some of the other guys would talk to him occasionally during practice, and Joey had yelled “nice hit!” after the double. Nick wasn’t sure if he meant it, if any of them meant it, or if they were just doing it for show in front of the coach, now that they were stuck with him as catcher.
At least he hadn’t quit. Sometimes, not too often, but sometimes, he actually thought Gracie might be right, that he was tougher than he thought he was.
Tough didn’t mean he was ready for varsity ball, though.
When Nick added it all up—as bad as he usually was at math—nothing much had changed from the first day he’d practiced with the varsity.
Nobody wanted him there.
“Is it just because I’m a seventh-grader?” Nick was saying to Jack Elmore now. “Is that why these guys act as if they’re going to, like, catch something from the new catcher?”
Nick and Jack and Gracie were at school on Saturday afternoon for the annual Hayworth Schoolcarnival, known as the Frogtown Fair. It was a funny name for a carnival, but Hayworth was on Frogtown Road. It wasn’t the biggest or best carnival in the world, not like the one they’d have outside of town during the summer. But there were a lot of games, and contests, and cool prizes, and even a Ferris wheel that the fire department had set up for them.
Pretty much the whole school turned out for it, especially when the weather was as perfect as it was today.
For Nick it was a chance to hang with his two best friends and not think about baseball for a change.
Except he had just asked Jack this one question, like he’d dropped his guard for a second.
He just wanted to understand why guys who were supposed to be his teammates were making this so much harder for him than it already was.
“You want the truth?” Jack said.
“He can’t handle the truth!” Gracie
The weird thing was, he was starting to hit a little better, getting at least one solid hit a day. OnFriday, Nick’s last time up, he had doubled off Gary Watson, the best knock he’d gotten yet, driving home a couple of runs and making it into second base standing up.
The hit seemed to make Gary Watson even more annoyed with Nick than usual.
The next guy up against him was Joey Johnson. And even though Nick wasn’t taking any kind of lead, Gary wheeled before his first pitch to Joey and tried to pick Nick off. Nick dove back to the bag, because the last thing he was going to let happen after his first big hit as a varsity player—even if it was only in practice—was to get himself picked off second base because he’d let Jack Elmore sneak in behind him.
Gary’s throw hit him right in the back.
Hard.
Nick was sure he’d done it on purpose. Gary hadn’t tried to pick anybody off second all day, and he wasn’t that wild. In the big leagues, you knew when a pitcher wanted to hit a batter. Nick was sure this was just as intentional, even if Gary was throwing toward second instead of to the plate.
“Sorry, dude,” Gary said, mostly for the benefit of his teammates and Coach Williams.
“No problem,” Nick said, dusting dirt off the front of his shirt.
The ball had hurt him. But no way he was going to show Gary that. It was part of what the announcers called the code of the game that you weren’t supposed to rub after you got hit by the ball, no matter what.
Jack Elmore was still standing next to second when Gary turned back toward home plate.
He leaned in toward Nick, like he was still trying to keep him close. “Know why he hit you where he did?” Jack said.
“Why?”
Jack gave him a quick slap on the side of his leg with his glove. “’Cause he thought it would be too obvious trying to bounce one off your helmet, that’s why.”
Practice ended ten minutes later. Nick had somehow managed to survive the week. The only good thing that had happened was that double off Gary Watson. And even that turned out to be painful.
Only Jack had made any real effort to make him feel welcome. Some of the other guys would talk to him occasionally during practice, and Joey had yelled “nice hit!” after the double. Nick wasn’t sure if he meant it, if any of them meant it, or if they were just doing it for show in front of the coach, now that they were stuck with him as catcher.
At least he hadn’t quit. Sometimes, not too often, but sometimes, he actually thought Gracie might be right, that he was tougher than he thought he was.
Tough didn’t mean he was ready for varsity ball, though.
When Nick added it all up—as bad as he usually was at math—nothing much had changed from the first day he’d practiced with the varsity.
Nobody wanted him there.
“Is it just because I’m a seventh-grader?” Nick was saying to Jack Elmore now. “Is that why these guys act as if they’re going to, like, catch something from the new catcher?”
Nick and Jack and Gracie were at school on Saturday afternoon for the annual Hayworth Schoolcarnival, known as the Frogtown Fair. It was a funny name for a carnival, but Hayworth was on Frogtown Road. It wasn’t the biggest or best carnival in the world, not like the one they’d have outside of town during the summer. But there were a lot of games, and contests, and cool prizes, and even a Ferris wheel that the fire department had set up for them.
Pretty much the whole school turned out for it, especially when the weather was as perfect as it was today.
For Nick it was a chance to hang with his two best friends and not think about baseball for a change.
Except he had just asked Jack this one question, like he’d dropped his guard for a second.
He just wanted to understand why guys who were supposed to be his teammates were making this so much harder for him than it already was.
“You want the truth?” Jack said.
“He can’t handle the truth!” Gracie
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