All-Star Fever (2 page)

After the game, Bus picked up his glove and started for home. He’d only walked a block when he heard someone calling his name.

“Bus! Bus, wait up!”

T.V. Adams rode toward him on his mountain bike. Bus looked at the bike with envy. It was just what he had asked for for his
birthday last month. But instead, his parents had given him a new glove and some books. He liked his gifts, but he couldn’t
help being disappointed all the same.

T.V. patted him on the shoulder. “Hey, Bus, don’t worry about that double play. It could have happened to anyone. Besides,
we won the game, didn’t we?”

“I should’ve paid attention to the coach’s signal,” Bus mumbled. “First an error in the field, then a double play. Looks like
you’ll be sitting on the All-Star bench without me.”

“Oh, yeah? Well, I predict you’ll show those scouts a thing or two in the next game!” T.V. said with a sly grin. Bus had to
grin back. T.V.’s “predictions” were legendary, especially when it came to baseball. He’d even been accused of spying once
because he always seemed to know things other people didn’t.

“I sure hope you’re right this time, T.V.,” Bus said with a sigh.

“Besides,” T.V. continued, “remember what Coach Parker said: No sense in dwelling on things you can’t change.” T.V. thought
for a moment. “Think he means we
should
dwell on things we
can
change?”

“But if we knew what we should change, we’d just do it, wouldn’t we?” Bus pointed out.

“Guess it would depend on what needed changing,” T.V. mused.

When Bus walked into his kitchen a few minutes later, his mood brightened. His father was cooking up his world-famous spaghetti
and meatballs for dinner. Bus wasted no time changing into fresh clothes and joining his parents at the table.

“Is it a special occasion?” he asked, helping himself to the pasta.

“How’d you guess?” Mr. Mercer asked. He winked at Mrs. Mercer. She winked back.

Bus was perplexed. “What’s going on?” he wondered.

“Oh, nothing too important. Just a little belated birthday ‘something’ waiting for you in the garage. But first,” she added
as Bus leapt to his feet, “you have to finish your dinner.”

Bus groaned and slid back into his chair. After what seemed like hours, he held up his clean plate for inspection.

“What, don’t you want dessert first?” his father joked.

Bus rushed out to the garage without bothering to answer. When he flicked on the lights, he couldn’t believe his eyes. There,
in the corner by the lawn mower, stood a brand-new mountain bike! The card on the handlebars read “For Bus, with much love
from Mom and Dad.”

“Wow!” Bus yelled. He turned to see his parents standing in the doorway. “It’s great!”

“We wanted to give it to you on your real birthday, but the bike store didn’t have the right one for you. We had to wait until
they got more,” Mrs. Mercer explained. “Better late than never, though! Happy birthday, Bus!”

Mr.Mercer looked at Bus seriously. “There are a few ground rules that go along with this bike, Bus. Rules that you must obey or else we’ll have to take the bike
away from you. First, always wear your helmet. Second, follow the rules of safety and use hand signals. And third and most
important, always let us know when and where you’re going riding. Deal?”

“Deal!” Bus agreed.

“One last thing,” his mother added. “Stay on the town bike trails and side streets whenever possible. It may take you a little
longer to get where you’re going, but at least you’ll be riding where it’s safe. Besides, half the fun of riding somewhere
is the riding itself, right?”

Bus nodded, his eyes shining. He was already mapping out his first bike route — to the baseball diamond for tomorrow’s practice!

Bus felt like a king when he rode up to the dugout the next day. The Peach Street Mudders crowded around to admire his new
bike. Then Coach Parker called for practice to begin.

Bus spent the next half hour shagging grounders, catching fly balls, and practicing his throws to first, second, third, and
home. His fielding was good. Bus thought that if he could play so well during their next game,
it would help his chances to make the All-Star team.

Then he took his turn at bat. He managed to hit a few sizzlers that shot past the infield’s gloves, but he didn’t get the
grand-slam homer he was trying for. He was sure his chances of making the All-Star team depended on him making up for his
two flubs at bat during the last game.

The sight of his new bike cheered him up. When practice was over, he strapped his glove onto the back carrier and adjusted
his helmet so that it fit snugly on his head. He was about to head for home when T.V. called out to him.

“Hey, Bus! Want to go over to the batting cage?”

Bus hesitated for a moment. The batting cage was a fairly long ride from the baseball diamond. But he knew he could use the
extra batting practice. And besides, hadn’t his parents
said going for long rides was what having a bike was all about?

“Sure, I’ll come along,” he said.

“Follow me! I know a good route that avoids the worst hills.” T.V. buckled his helmet onto his head, hopped onto his bike,
and pedaled off. Bus was close behind him.

The two boys stuck to the back roads that wound around the outskirts of town. Before too long, they arrived at the batting
cage. They locked their bikes together, then paid a dollar each for a turn at bat. T.V. went first.

Pow! Pow! Pow!

T.V. hit his fourteen balls solidly one after another. Then Bus stepped into the cage for his turn.

Pow! Tic! Tic!

Bus hit all of his balls, but half of them went foul.
I’ve got to do better than this if I’m ever going to make the All-Star team!
he growled to himself.

He was fishing around in his pocket for another dollar when he felt the first raindrop. Only then did he notice that the sky
had darkened with storm clouds.

“C’mon, let’s get out of here!” T.V. yelled. A flash of lightning and a huge crack of thunder sent Bus and T.V. running for
their bikes.

Big fat drops fell on the boys as they started pedaling toward home. Any minute the sky might open up and soak them completely.

“I know a shortcut,” T.V. panted. “Follow me!” He veered off the bike path onto the main road.

Bus pulled up short. Suddenly his parents’ rules echoed in his head. To his dismay, he realized he’d already broken one of
them by not telling them he was riding to the batting cage. How could he break another one by biking on the main road?

T.V. braked to a stop. “What are you waiting for? We’re going to get drenched if you don’t hurry up!”

“But what about the bike path? Can’t we just take that instead?” Bus suggested hopefully.

“The bike path will take you ten minutes longer than my way! You can ride it if you want, but I’m not going to. I want me
and my bike to stay dry!” T.V. looked at Bus impatiently. “Well?”

Bus glanced at the bike path one more time, then up at the dark sky.
I should get my bike out of the rain, too,
he thought.

He took a deep breath and cried, “Okay! Lead the way!”

The rain had really started to come down. Water splashed onto Bus’s legs and passing cars honked their horns so loudly it
made his heart hammer. He pedaled as hard as he could, but T.V. was faster. Bus could barely keep up.
Slow down, T.V.!
he wanted to cry.

Then T.V. disappeared around a corner. Bus was caught off guard. He had to pull sharply at his handlebars to make the turn.
Wobbling off balance, he braked to a stop to catch his breath.

What he saw before him made his stomach flip-flop. He was staring down at one of the steepest hills he had ever seen. At the
bottom, he could see cars zooming back and forth. T.V. was already halfway down that hill. Bus had no choice but to follow
him.

Bus tested his brakes, then took a deep breath and started down the hill. Raindrops struck his face, but he coasted steadily
downward. The traffic at the bottom loomed closer and closer. Bus tried to keep an eye on the pavement in front of him. He
dodged one sewer grate after another. Finally a quick glance up told him he was almost safely at the bottom.

Wham!

His front wheel plunged into a pothole! Bus’s teeth rattled and his hands bounced off the handlebars for a split second. He
squeezed the brakes just in time to stop alongside T.V. at the busy intersection.

He had made it down safely. But somehow,
all he could think of was what his parents would do when they found out.

Tired and soaked to the skin, he pedaled home and into the driveway just as the garage door opened up.

His mother and father were standing in the doorway.

“Bus! We’ve been worried sick about you! Practice was over an hour ago. Where have you been?” his mother asked with just a
hint of anger in her voice.

“I — I was at the batting cage with T.V. We rode over right after practice,” Bus replied.

“Without telling us? Bus, we asked you only last night to be sure to let us know where you were riding at all times!” His
father frowned.

“I’m sorry. I guess — I guess I made a mistake,” Bus whispered.

Mr. and Mrs. Mercer glanced at each other. Mrs. Mercer sighed. “Well, so long as you’re all right, I guess we can overlook it just this once. But if we find out you’ve disobeyed our rules again, we’ll have
to take the bike away from you until you prove you can be responsible. Now come inside and get out of those wet clothes and
into a hot shower.”