High and Inside (12 page)

Jake was nicely up on the count. Now he could afford to paint the corners, Matt thought. Jake wound up to deliver the third pitch. It was obvious from the grunt he emitted that he was trying to end this thing now. He put another fastball right down the middle, but this time Gus Martinez was ready.

The big dark-haired boy had timed it perfectly, bringing his bat around in a blur and transferring his weight to full effect. He caught the ball flush and sent a towering drive out to center field. Matt watched as it sailed far over his head. He already knew there would be no play on this one. Martinez had parked it over the fence and the ball bounced wildly off the asphalt of the school parking lot. Middleton had won the game 3-2. The Marauders' dugout erupted, dog-piling the elder Martinez as he crossed the plate.

Matt walked dejectedly off the field toward the dugout. He thought he felt about as bad as somebody could until he looked at Jake, who had hurled his glove down at the mound in disgust.

The Stingers quietly filed out of the dugout and back onto their bus. With that one hit, their hopes for the playoffs had been thrown into serious jeopardy. Jake slumped into a seat at the back of the bus. Matt slid into the double bench right in front of him.

“Tough one,” Matt said quietly to his friend. “That kid can hit.”

Jake was still looking at the floor of the bus. It was a few seconds before he spoke. “It was my fault,” he said solemnly. “I shouldn't have given that kid anything to hit. I thought I had him after that second pitch. I got cocky.”

Matt was just about to say something when Coach Stephens piped up from the front of the bus. “Listen up, guys,” he said.

“We lost a tough one this afternoon. But we got beat by a great hit and a great hitter. Nobody should hang his head in this bus. You guys all played heads-up baseball. I couldn't ask for much better. Sometimes it's just not your day.”

There was silence on the bus, but several players nodded their heads. Jake was still looking down at the floor.

“All right, let's shake it off,” Coach continued. “Practice is Wednesday, just like always.”

As the bus pulled into the South Side parking lot, Phil spied his parents' gold Lexus sedan idling. “I've gotta go,” he said eagerly, grabbing his equipment and hustling to the front of the bus. “We're going out for dinner tonight. Grandma's eighty today.”

Matt could see Phil's parents from the bus window and waved to them. Phil's grandmother spotted Matt and waved furiously. She had known him since he was in kindergarten and treated him like he was her own grandson. Whenever he and Phil hung out at her tiny corner grocery, she would pull out chips and candy and Cokes and spoil them rotten.

Phil's departure left Matt and Jake to walk home together. Matt felt strangely awkward. They hadn't spoken much since their telephone conversation about the joint found in Matt's bag. For the first block down Anderson Crescent, neither said much.

“I couldn't concentrate out there today.” Jake finally broke the ice. Matt thought that he had never seen his friend look so serious. His jaw was set and his blue eyes seemed weary.

“I've been thinking about what we talked about the other night,” Jake continued. “You were right, Matt. What happened was totally unfair to you. I've kind of been acting like a jerk.”

Matt couldn't argue there. But he felt he had to ease his buddy's worry. “I just wanted you to know what happened, Jake,” he said. “It's not like I'm totally pissed at you or anything.”

Jake cleared his throat. For a second, there was silence. Then he spoke. “You should be,” he said. “You're in trouble because of something I did.

“I was thinking,” he continued. “What about if I went with you to those Sunday things?”

“You mean with Mr. Evans?” Matt said. “Why would you want to do that?”

“It's not that I want to. It's just that I feel responsible. Why should you be stuck there by yourself?”

“But what will your parents say?” Matt asked. “They're bound to find out you're in Mr. Evans' group. They'll know something's up.”

“They're going to know anyway,” Jake said. “Because I'm going to tell them tonight.”

“You sure you want to do that?” Matt said.

“Yeah, I'm sure,” Jake said resignedly.

The Piancatos' station wagon pulled up beside them. Mr. Piancato rolled down the passenger window. “Hey, guys,” he said. “How did you do?”

“We lost 3-2,” Matt answered quickly. “But it was a pretty good game.”

Jake looked at Matt as he opened the car door. “Later, man,” he said.

“Good luck,” Matt replied as he watched the car pull away. He was awfully glad not to be in Jake's shoes tonight.

chapter sixteen

There was definitely a buzz surrounding the ball team at school on Tuesday morning. But it didn't have anything to do with the boys' baseball squad. Instead, it was the Stinger girls who were basking in the limelight.

“Make sure you get out to the diamond this afternoon and catch the undefeated South Side Stingers against Middleton in girls' softball at its finest,” Principal Walker said during the morning announcements.

“One more win this season and your Stingers are off to the regional playoffs. They deserve your support.”

There was no mention of the boys' baseball team this morning. Yesterday's loss to Middleton had put a serious crimp in the team's playoff hopes. Even if they won the final two games, they would have to rely on both Middleton and Churchill losing one of their final two games. The chances of that happening were slim.

While disappointed with the way the season was playing out—both for him personally and for the team—Matt was happy for the girls and especially for Andrea, who was finding her groove as a shortstop and developing into one of the team's best players.

With no practice of his own to worry about that afternoon, Matt headed to the diamond with Phil to catch the girls' game. He hadn't seen Jake at school all day and neither had Phil. He didn't say anything to anybody else but Matt wondered whether Jake had gone ahead and broken the news about the joint to his parents the night before.

Phil and Matt cheered enthusiastically as the South Side girls cruised to an easy 8-1 win over Middleton, wrapping up first place and a spot in the playoffs. Andrea was enjoying her best game of the season so far, going two-for-three with a double and some terrific plays at shortstop. Matt knew wearing the cast all winter had meant she had been waiting a long time to go full-out in sports. It was good to see her so happy and doing so well.

After the game, Matt and Phil were walking down Anderson toward home when they heard a voice behind them. “Hey, guys, wait up!” It was Jake.

“Where were you, man?” Phil said as Jake puffed up. “We thought we'd see you at the girls' game for sure.”

A sheepish look crossed Jake's hearty face. “Let's just say it was a long night out at Long Lake,” he said ruefully, trying to make light out of what most certainly hadn't been a light situation.

Jake brought Phil and Matt up to speed. He had told his parents the previous night about smoking marijuana with his cousins. They had both been stunned. He had also told them about the jackpot Matt now found himself in, thanks to Jake.

“Sucks to be you,” Phil said, half-jokingly. “Man, I had no idea about all this stuff. You guys hiding anything else from me?”

Jake looked directly at Matt. “I'm in so much trouble with my mom and dad,” he said, shaking his head. “I'm like grounded for two weeks. I had to spend half the morning with them in the school counselor's office. And I'm done with baseball for this year.”

The last sentence was the one that registered with Matt and Phil. Had he actually said “Done with baseball”?

“Mom and Dad totally freaked out,” Jake continued. “They're super mad at Cody and Vance. They phoned their parents. And Matt, they phoned your mom too.”

“What?” Matt said. “Why?”

“They said it was only fair to you. It was my jacket that Joker smelled, not your gear. They said it wasn't right that you were taking the blame for that…And they're right.”

Matt suddenly felt elated and depressed all at the same time. It was a huge load off his shoulders that his mom would now know that he hadn't been involved with drugs. But at the same time, he felt bad for Jake and for the team. Without Jake in the lineup, South Side could probably kiss the playoffs goodbye.

“Guess you're off the hook for Sundays,” Jake said to Matt. “My parents want me to take Mr. Evans' counseling sessions now.”

They were already at the corner of Anderson and Seventh. “I know your parents are pissed,” Matt said, looking at Jake. “But they'll get over it eventually.”

“Hope so,” Jake said glumly. And with that, he and Phil continued to walk toward Wong's Grocery where Jake, as usual, would catch the bus out to Long Lake.

Matt hesitated at the corner and watched as his two friends headed up Seventh. He knew Jake felt bad, but he also knew his friend had done the right thing. It was nice to have the old Jake back again.

Mom was in the kitchen, dicing up cucumber for a salad when she heard Matt come in the door. She stopped what she was doing and met him in the hallway. She had a smile on her face. “I got a call from Jake's mom and dad today,” she said. “They explained to me what happened. I'm sorry I didn't have more faith in you, Matt.”

“It's okay, Mom. I mean, what were you supposed to think, anyway? The dog freaked out on my equipment bag. It must have looked pretty bad.”

“I'm glad that they weren't your drugs, Matt,” she said. “But even if they were, I hope you feel like you could talk to me about it.”

Matt nodded as his Mom stretched out her arms and gave him a hug. He already knew that he could talk to her about anything. But it felt good to hear the words just the same.

“I guess you can have your Sundays back now,” she said. “I don't expect you to go to Mr. Evans' sessions anymore.”

“I guess so,” he replied.

chapter seventeen

Every student at South Side seemed excited about the fact there were only two weeks of school left before the start of summer vacation. But the Stingers still had some unfinished business on the baseball diamond. On Thursday afternoon, the entire team, dressed in full uniform with their cleats slung around their shoulders, marched the twelve blocks to nearby Central Middle School for a must-win match-up against the Wildcats.

It was a must win because one loss and South Side was mathematically out of contention for the playoffs. The team was 5-1 and technically tied with both Middleton and Churchill. But because of the league's complicated tie-breaking formula, the Stingers couldn't win the title if they finished in a tie with either team. Matt had fervently done all the calculations at home on Wednesday night. South Side's only hope was to win both its final games and cross their fingers that the Marauders and Bulldogs lost at least one each. In that case, the Stingers were in.

When the team arrived at Central, Coach Stephens told his players to take a seat in the dugout. The Wildcats were already running through infield practice. “Listen up, people,” Coach said. “I'd hoped that we would be able to control our own destiny but we can't. In order to make the playoffs, we have to get some help along the way. All we can do now is play our best baseball of the year during our last two games and hope things break our way.”

The Stingers were particularly focused today as Coach cracked out ground balls to the infielders and towering flies to the outfielders. The infielders' throws to Dave Tanner at first were crisp and smacked loudly into his glove. The South Side team seemed ready to do its part in this playoff push, Matt thought to himself.

The umpire called time, and both teams returned to their dugouts. Coach Stephens, as usual, had waited until just prior to game time before hanging the lineup sheet up on the dugout fence. Out of habit, Matt motioned to Charlie to hand him the clipboard. Better make sure the lineup is correct on the score sheet, he was thinking.

“You might want to check Coach's list,” Charlie said, nodding toward the dugout fence.

Matt wheeled and looked. There was his name, penciled in at second. He was starting a middle school baseball game for the first time. Coach had moved Kevin Archibald to shortstop to take the place of Jake, whose parents wouldn't let him play anymore this year. Matt felt sorry for Jake but he was pumped to be playing instead of keeping stats.

The game that followed turned out to be the best of the season, for both Matt and the Stingers. In his debut as a starting second baseman, he went three-for-four, including a triple into left field. He didn't make any major mistakes at second, and South Side rolled to an easy 12-3 decision over a decidedly inferior Wildcats team.

Even more impressive, the victory had come without Jake and his powerful bat in the lineup. The Piancatos did consent to let their son tag along with the team to Central, though, and as the Stingers walked back to South Side, Jake seemed as happy about the victory as any of the guys who had actually played.

“Matt, you were stroking it out there today,” Jake said enthusiastically. “Your hitting is miles better than it was at the start of the season.”

Jake and Matt were walking near the end of the line of players, just ahead of Charlie, who because of his brace brought up the rear of the contingent.

“I had some help,” Matt said. “From my personal hitting coach.” Matt flashed a look back at Charlie. He was straining under the weight of a large equipment bag, but he was grinning at the same time.

After supper that night, Matt tuned his bedroom clock radio into KSWT, the local news radio station. He knew they would announce the middle school baseball scores at 8:05 PM, providing all the managers had phoned them in.