Jinxed! (3 page)

“Hey, do you collect baseball cards?” I asked.

“Nope.”

I wanted to tell Dylan about my collection, but decided not to. I stopped trying to talk to him. He didn't want to talk to me anyway.

The bus finally rolled in. There was so much mud spattered on it that you could barely see the porcupine logo on the side.

The first player off the bus had a mustache like an old-timey movie star. He was new to the team, but I recognized him. It was the Pines' new pitcher, Lance Pantaño.

“Good evening, gentlemen,” he said, with a little bow. Then he leaned over and whispered, “Be careful. There's a giant rat on the bus.”

“A
rat
?” I took a step back.

“Just be careful,” Pantaño said. With that, he turned and walked across the parking lot toward the players' entrance.

I looked back at the bus and saw Sammy Solaris coming down the steps. Sammy was usually the designated hitter. He could really smack the ball, but he was too slow to play in the field.

“Have you seen the rat?” he asked in a low voice.

“No,” said Dylan.

“Keep your eyes open,” said Sammy. He poked his thumb at the bus. “Huge . . . rat . . . in there . . .”

“Really?” said Dylan.

“Hey, Sammy! Chad the batboy,” I jumped in. “I'm a big fan.”

“You're a big fan, and he's a big player. All
those corn dogs, eh, Sammy?” said the next guy off the bus. It was Wayne Zane, the catcher. Zane's face was as wrinkled as an old mitt. He had been with the Porcupines for as long as I could remember.

“
You're
the corny one,” said Sammy. It was true. Wayne Zane was always joking around.

“I'm just sayin',” said Wayne. “But seriously, kids—watch out for that rat.”

Both players set off for the locker room.

Wally came out to the parking lot. He opened the side door of the bus and pulled out a cart.

“You kids haul in the equipment,” he said. “No dillydallying.”

Dylan pulled out a canvas bag of bats, set it on the cart, and reached in for another.

“What's dillydallying?” I asked Dylan.

“I think it's like lollygagging,” he replied.

“Oh.”

 

Dillydallying? Lollygagging? Must mean talking instead of working. I knew baseball had a lot of funny words. I wondered if these were two of them.

I started pulling out equipment, but I kept my eyes on the bus door.

One by one, the rest of the team hopped off and headed for the locker room. There was Ryan Kimball, the tall, tattooed closer.

“Have you seen the rat?” he asked us.

“No,” said Dylan.

“Keep your eyes open,” Kimball said. “And watch your toes.”

“EEEK, EEEK, EEEK!”

“EEK! EEK!”

Outfielders Danny O'Brien and Brian Daniels scurried past us making rat sounds. They looked so much alike, you never knew who was playing right field and who was playing left.

“Pssst.”
George “President” Lincoln, the really serious-looking second baseman, tipped his head back toward the bus and tapped his nose once. He gave us a solemn look as he walked past.

“I'm not scared of rats,” said Dylan.

“Me, neither,” I agreed.

“I've seen them at the pet store,” he said. “They're cute.”

“Yeah.”

Of course, a wild rat would be scarier than a pet-store rat. I wasn't about to run off, though. There was one player I was still watching for: a big blond guy with a smile like you'd see in a toothpaste commercial. I wanted to meet him.

Another guy came off the bus. Here was a Pine I didn't know. He yawned, blinked, then looked at us.

His nose was all black.

There were whiskers on his face.

His baseball cap had big round ears attached to it. They looked like they'd been cut out of a brown paper bag and stuck on with duct tape.

“Hi, there. I'm Tommy Harris.” He offered his hand. “I just got called up from rookie league.”

I stared at him.

Dylan blinked.

“What's wrong?” asked Harris.

“Um . . .” said Dylan.

“You've got rat stuff on your face,” I told him.

“And ears,” Dylan added.

Harris turned around and looked at himself in the bus's side mirror. “Oh, man. That's what I get for falling asleep on the bus.” He found a handkerchief in his pocket and wiped at the eye black on his nose and face. “It's tough being the new guy.”

“I guess that's the rat,” said Dylan. “The ones at the pet store are cuter.”

“Is there anybody else on the bus?” I asked Tommy.

“I don't think so,” he answered. “Why?”

“I want to meet Mike Stammer. I have his baseball card, and I want to ask him to sign it.”

“You must've missed him,” said Tommy.
“He'll be in the locker room, though.” He headed that way, still rubbing at the whiskers.

“Minor leaguers have baseball cards?” asked Dylan.

“Most don't,” I said as I struggled with the last overstuffed bag and put it on the pile. Dylan started pushing the cart. The load wobbled, and I put a hand on it to steady it. “Mike Stammer was in the big leagues for a while.”

• • •

We rolled the cart into the equipment room and started to unload it. Dylan worked twice as fast as me. I hoped he didn't think I was dillydallying. I was just slow.

“That's everything,” I said.

“Yep,” said Dylan. He waved and left. I was sure he was still mad at me.

I popped into the locker room one more time.

“Is Mike Stammer around?” I asked Wayne Zane.

“He dropped off his stuff and went for a walk,” said Wayne. “He said he wanted to be alone.”

That was too bad, I thought. But Mike would be here tomorrow. I hoped so, anyway. In minor league baseball, a player can get called up at any time. He can also get cut at any time.

“If you stick around, he'll probably be back,” said Wayne.

I looked at the clock. Mom and Dad had told me to get home as soon as I could.

“I'd better not,” I said. I thought of something I'd meant to ask earlier. “Hey, do you know what the surprise is at Saturday's game?”

“Nah, nobody tells us anything.” Wayne
swung his locker door closed. “I just hope it's not a surprise retirement party for me.”

“No way,” I told him.

“Just sayin',” Wayne said.

I got my bike and started for home. I had not gone far when I slammed on the brakes. Something was pawing at the ground in the shadows by the right field wall. What was
that
? My heart raced. I turned my handlebars so my bike light pointed that way. I hoped it was only a big dog and not a coyote or bear or something.

The shadow stopped and turned toward me.

It looked up at me in surprise.

I looked back in just as much surprise.

Huh?

ike Stammer jumped up and brushed the dirt off his knees. His big toothpaste-ad smile gleamed in the lamplight.

“Hey, there,” he said.

What was he up to? Looking for worms? Maybe he was going fishing the next morning. Or maybe he was in the middle of some weird exercise routine. In any case, at least Mike wasn't a coyote!

“Uh, hey, there. I was just looking for you, and, uh . . . will you please sign a baseball card?” I said quickly as I got off my bike. I pulled the card out of one pocket and a pen out of the other.

 

Mike took the card, held it flat in his left palm and scribbled on it. “You probably wonder what I'm doing crawling around out here, huh?”

“Nope,” I lied. “It's none of my business.”

“Good kid. Hey, what's your name? I'll get you tickets to tomorrow's game.”

“My name is Chad, but I don't need tickets. I'm a batboy!”

“Great. Glad we finally got one for the summer.” Mike gave me back the card. “So you won't tell anybody about this?”

“No way.”

“Thanks.”

I got back on my bike and pedaled off. I glanced in the mirror and saw Mike crawling
around in the grass again. I hoped he didn't scare anybody else, because he cast one big shadow!

• • •

“How did it go?” Dad asked as soon as I got home. He looked up from his book, which was about Madagascar. Dad was interested in everything. The last book he read was about eggplant farming, and the one before that was about the Franco-Prussian War.

“It was fun,” I said. “Wayne Zane is funny. At least, he
tries
to be funny. And there's a new guy named Tommy Harris who's really friendly. He fell asleep on the bus and they put a rat face and ears on him. Mike Stammer is nice but kind of weird. And Sammy Solaris is even bigger up close.”

“Did you work hard?” Dad asked.

“Of course.” I thought about how Dylan
was way faster than me, but maybe he was just superfast.

“Saturday is Kids Get In Free Day,” Dad told me. “I heard an ad on the radio about it.”

“I know, but I don't have to worry about getting into the game free. I get
paid
to be there.”