Sliding into Home (9 page)

“Wow, Leah!” Elizabeth peered over Leah’s shoulder. “Did you draw that? It’s really good.”

Joelle leaned across the table. The girl winding up to pitch on Leah’s paper looked so
real.
“Amazing,” she agreed. “I didn’t know you could draw like that!”

“Well, considering you’ve known me for about three days, you can’t know everything about me already,” Leah said, smiling.

“True,” Joelle admitted.

Three days? She felt so comfortable with these girls already. It seemed like she’d known them forever. It was almost like hanging out with the guys back in Minneapolis. Only better. She’d never been part of a group of girls before.

Mandi flipped back a page in Leah’s sketchbook. “Show them some of the other sketches you did, Leah,” she said. “Leah’s been working on ideas ever since you called, Joelle.”

There was a drawing of a girl’s face with a baseball bat below it and another drawing of a girl up at bat. But the best one showed a pitcher going into her windup. A batter, a catcher, and other players watched anxiously from the dugout.

“I think we should use that one on our flier,” Tara said.

“I like it, too,” Joelle agreed.

“We could scan it into a computer and then shrink it down to leave room for the writing,” Mandi said. “What do we want to say?”

Joelle drummed her fingers on the table. “We probably want to put a big headline at the top.”

“How about something like, ‘Sick of Softball?’” Tara said.

“Wait a minute,” Elizabeth broke in. “Lots of girls actually
like
softball, remember?”

Mandi nodded. “Right” she said quickly. “We don’t want to insult anyone. Maybe we should just say something really basic, like ‘Join the Greendale Girls’ Baseball League.’”

“What if girls from other towns around Greendale want to play?” Tara asked.

“Okay, then,” Mandi said. “How about the Eastern Iowa Girls’ Baseball League?”

“That sounds good,” Joelle said. She liked the idea of players from other towns joining them. There probably weren’t enough girls in Greendale who’d want to play, anyway.

“And somewhere below that we need to say, ‘Coaches, Sponsors, Players, and Parents: Come to an organizational meeting at the Greendale Library downstairs auditorium on April 20 at 7:00,’” Leah said.

“We definitely got the okay to hold a meeting there?” Elizabeth asked.

“Yup,” Joelle replied. “I asked this afternoon when I reserved this study room.”

“Let’s add our names and phone numbers,” Mandi said. “In case somebody wants more information.”

“Well, we don’t have room for too many numbers,” Joelle said. “Why don’t we just put yours and mine?”

“You could put my dad’s name and number, too, since he’s going to coach,” Elizabeth added.

“Plus, it would be good to list an adult,” Joelle said. “It makes us look more serious.”

Leah wrote in all the words around her drawing. “Okay, how’s this?” she asked.

“Looks great,” Joelle said.

“You did a terrific job, Leah!” Elizabeth said.

“So all we have to do is make copies and put them up,” Leah said. “My uncle owns the Mail-It Shop down the street. I bet he’d let us make copies for really cheap. Maybe even for free.”

“Excellent,” Joelle said. She couldn’t believe how well things were coming together so far. Would starting a league really be this easy?

Leah and Elizabeth left the library to make copies while Tara, Mandi, and Joelle stayed to look up places to send some of the fliers. They’d decided to do a mailing to every school, church, library, and grocery store in Greendale and every town within a fifty-mile radius. Joelle was also going to write up a short article about what they were doing for the
Echo.
When it was time to go home, each of them took twenty fliers and a list of places to send them or put them up.

“We’ll flood half of Iowa with these,” Mandi joked.

“We may need to,” Joelle said.

By the time she got home, she was beat. Her mom was watching a courtroom drama in the family room. Joelle plopped down on the couch next to her.

Mom massaged Joelle’s temples, just like she used to when Joelle was a little kid. “Jason called while you were out,” she said.

“He did?” Joelle started to get up.

“Wait a minute, honey,” Mom said. “He’s not home right now. He said he had a study group at eight.”

Joelle groaned. “Of all the times he could have called me back, he picks the one night I’m out! I’ve only talked to him once since we moved here.”

“Well, this is a busy time for Jason. He’s got classes, his job at the pizza place, schoolwork, and this semester he’s got baseball, too. I think he has practice every day, plus games. And some of those games are pretty far away.”

“It’s like Jason’s not even in the family anymore,” Joelle grumbled as she slumped back against the couch.

“Oh, Joelle. Jason will always be part of our family. But he’s got his own life now.” Mom put her arm around Joelle. “You’re pretty busy these days, too, you know. You’ve got school, new friends, this whole baseball league business …”

“Yeah, but I still have time for my family.” Joelle crossed her arms.

“Your brother said he’d try and get down for a weekend soon,” her mother said. “And he’s going to e-mail you, too.”

Joelle went to the den and checked the computer. There
were e-mails from a couple of the guys back home telling her about their season opener in two inches of snow. They’d beaten Minnetonka 9–5. That was good news. Minnetonka was a tough team.

But there were no e-mails from Jason.

J
oelle got to school early the next morning to put up her fliers. She posted one in the cafeteria, one on the library door, and another on the bulletin board outside the guidance counselor’s office. A small group of kids gathered around as she was taping a flier on the gym door.

“What does it say?” A girl in the back strained to see over the taller kids.

One of the boys in front read aloud, “Join the Eastern Iowa Girls’ Baseball League.” His voice cracked on the word “league.”

“A baseball league just for
girls?
” a boy with a buzz cut snorted. “What is this, a joke?”

“No,” Joelle said, holding tight to her stack of fliers. “The Hoover baseball team is just for boys.”

As she finished her sentence, she spotted Coach Carlyle coming out of the boys’ locker room.

Great
, Joelle thought.
I suppose he’ll tell me there’s some rule against putting up fliers at school, too.

But he hardly even glanced at the flier on the wall. Or at
her. “Come on, people,” he said, ushering everyone down the hall. “Move along. You’re blocking traffic.”

Joelle quickly moved along with everyone else, relieved that she didn’t have to take down her fliers.

When she got to the girls’ gym, she found Ms. Fenner doing paperwork in her office.

Ms. Fenner looked up when Joelle knocked. “Hey, Joelle.” The coach rolled up the sleeves of her purple warm-up jacket. “What can I do for you?”

“I have something I want you to see.” Joelle handed Ms. Fenner a flier.

The coach glanced at it briefly. “Yes, I saw one when I was up in the office.” She shook her head. “I have to tell you, Joelle, I really admire your determination. It’s no small undertaking, trying to start a whole new league.”

“Thanks.” Joelle felt herself blush. “I know you’re really busy with softball and everything right now. But I was wondering whether you’d be interested in helping out with our league. If we get it going, I mean.”

Ms. Fenner leaned back in her chair. “Help out how?”

“Well, any way you want. We’re looking for coaches, sponsors, players, a place to play—you name it, we need it!”

“Yes, I’m sure you will,” Ms. Fenner said, chuckling. She picked up a pen and tapped it against her desk. “I’d really like to help you, Joelle, but as you pointed out, I am pretty busy with softball at the moment. Right now the team is my top priority.”

Joelle’s shoulders slumped. She wasn’t really surprised. But still … “What about when the season’s over?” Joelle asked quickly. “Would you have time to help out then?”

“Maybe,” Ms. Fenner replied. “But I’m not sure you’re going to need a league this summer. The rec center has a summer program. And I know they let girls play baseball.”

“Yeah, but they put all the girls on separate teams. What I want to do is start a whole league just for girls.”

Ms. Fenner looked sympathetic. “That’s a nice idea, Joelle. But do you think you’ll be able to find enough girls to fill an entire league?”

“We might,” Joelle said. “If enough people hear about it.”

“Well, even if you find players, you’ll still need a place to practice and a place to play. Have you thought about that? There are so many recreation and church groups doing baseball and softball leagues during the summer that it’s almost impossible to find playing fields for everyone.”

“But where there’s a will, there’s a way, right?” Joelle said, trying to sound cheerful.

Ms. Fenner didn’t say anything.

Okay, maybe cheerful isn’t the right tone here
, Joelle told herself. She looked down at the stack of fliers in her hands. “So does that mean you’re not interested?”

“No, not necessarily,” Ms. Fenner said. “I love the idea of a girls’ baseball league. I’m just saying there are a lot of things you need to think about.”

“I know that,” Joelle said again. “And we’re trying to figure all of them out. That’s sort of the point of this organizational meeting. Would you at least come to our meeting, Ms. Fenner?”

Ms. Fenner smiled. “I’ll come to your meeting,” she replied.

“You will? Great! Thanks!” Joelle turned to leave.

“I sure wish you’d reconsider softball, Joelle,” Ms. Fenner said. “I know my girls would still love to have you.”

Joelle found
that
hard to believe. She shifted the stack of fliers to her other arm. “Actually, I think some of them are a little mad that I’d rather play baseball.”

Ms. Fenner nodded. “Well, yes, some of them are. But I think they’d get over it pretty quick if you joined them. Hey, they like to win!” The coach grinned.

Who doesn’t?
Joelle thought. But you had to enjoy the game, too. Wasn’t that what grown-ups were always trying to tell kids?

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Joelle told Ms. Fenner.

“I don’t get it.” Brooke told Joelle a few days later when she cornered her in the instrument storage room before band. Brooke was holding a copy of the most recent
Echo
, with Joelle’s article in it. “You’re trying to start a whole
baseball league?
Why?”

Joelle reached around Brooke to grab her clarinet case. “To give girls a chance to play baseball. Read the article,” she said.

Brooke followed Joelle into the band room. “Well, okay, how exactly is it going to work? Are you going to have a bunch of all-girl teams play each other?”

“That’s the way a league usually works,” Joelle said calmly, climbing up to the second row of clarinets. Brooke, dragging her bassoon with her, trailed Joelle.

“So, will people have to try out or will you take anyone who wants to play? How many games and practices will there be each week? Where are you going to play?”

Joelle shrugged as she took her seat. “Don’t know yet.”

“Who’s going to sponsor you? The rec center? Have you talked to them? What about a church?”

What was with all the questions? Was Brooke trying to make Joelle feel stupid just because she didn’t have all the answers?

“I really don’t know.” Joelle opened her music folder.

Brooke rested her arm across Joelle’s music stand. “Well, it’d have to be a summer league, obviously. You can’t work all that stuff out before summer. So I’ll make a deal with you. If you sign up for softball now, then I’ll sign up for your baseball league this summer.”

Joelle stared at Brooke. The girl was kidding, right? Brooke didn’t want to play baseball. And Joelle sure didn’t want to play softball! Hadn’t she made that perfectly clear?

Joelle shifted in her seat. “Look, let me put this in terms you’ll understand, okay? Me playing softball would be like you playing the oboe.”

“Huh?” Brooke blinked.

“The bassoon and the oboe are a lot alike,” Joelle went on. “They’re both woodwind instruments, with double reeds. If you can play one, you should be able to play the other, right?”

“No,” Brooke said. “They’re totally different instruments.”

“Right! And baseball and softball are totally different sports!”

Brooke shook her head. “You’re impossible, Joelle! I give up.”

Good
, Joelle thought as Brooke finally took her seat.
It’s about time.

After school, Joelle took a bus over to Greendale Academy to put up fliers. She’d heard over and over how great their softball team was. Maybe some of the girls would consider playing baseball.

The campus was on the outskirts of town, surrounded by new housing developments.
Fancy
housing developments, Joelle noted as she watched out the window.

The bus stopped in front of the school and Joelle got off. Greendale Academy was a three-story brick building set back among the trees. The front lawn was thick and green. Not a weed in sight. Joelle felt a little funny about walking on such perfect grass, so she walked along the horseshoe drive that led to the main entrance.

When she stepped inside, she wiped her feet. Everything about Greendale Academy seemed fresh and clean, probably thanks to the elderly janitor who was mopping at the other end of the hall. He had his back to Joelle, so he didn’t notice her.

There were several people working in the office. Joelle wondered if she should stop and ask permission to put up her fliers. But there were posters and announcements plastered here and there on the wall. What was the harm in hanging up a few more little pieces of paper? She tacked up two on the big bulletin board across from the front doors. Then she wandered
down the hall, taping fliers on bathroom doors, next to the library entrance, and above a drinking fountain. There had to be a gym around somewhere. And where there was a gym, there was probably a gym teacher. Maybe she could talk to her about the baseball league.

“Are you looking for somebody?” A tired-looking girl had just emerged from the bathroom behind Joelle. She wore a blue and gold Greendale Academy sweatshirt and shorts. A sweat-band plastered her damp curls against her forehead.

“Yeah, I’m looking for your gym teacher,” Joelle said.

“Ms. Azline? She’s out on the softball field. Go out that door down there.” The girl pointed.

“Great. Thanks.” Joelle jogged the rest of the way down the hall and pushed open the door.

She found herself at the back of the school. A huge open area stretched all the way to empty farm fields that were ready for planting. A group of kids, boys and girls, were doing sit-ups and stretches in one area. The boys’ baseball team was practicing in another. And further on Joelle spotted the girls’ softball team.

Nobody paid any attention to Joelle as she headed toward the softball field. She didn’t want to disturb the practice, so she sat down on the grass behind the fence and watched. She’d talk to the coach when they finished.

The softball team was working on throwing and catching drills. There were only four girls sitting on the bench. Everyone else was out on the field.

Coach Azline had on a light blue warm-up suit. She was
tall with dark hair that was graying at the sides. She stood at home plate and batted to different players.

“Use both hands to catch, Sonia,” Coach Azline called to the right fielder.

Sonia leaped up and caught the ball in her glove. Then she threw the ball to the pitcher.

“And get your elbow up when you throw,” the coach said.

Joelle noticed how serious all the girls seemed. No one was talking, not even the players on the bench. Every player seemed to have her eyes and ears on the drill. No wonder they were state champs.

“Again,” Coach Azline said to the pitcher.

The pitcher went into her windup and released. The coach slammed the ball right back at the pitcher, who jumped in surprise, but managed to catch it.

“Look alive, Kelsey!” the coach shouted to her.

Kelsey tossed her long blond hair over her shoulder, then got back into position and pitched again. This time, the coach hit a line drive straight to the shortstop, who ran forward and caught it.

“Not bad, Nikki,” the coach said, nodding.

The players on the bench rotated in. Nikki was one of four girls who came off. She glanced curiously at Joelle as she sat down.

Joelle got up and moved behind the bench area. “Nice catch,” she said.

All four of the girls on the bench turned around. “Who are you?” Nikki asked. She wore her black hair in about a thousand braids, each one held by a small bead at the end.

“You don’t go here, do you?” asked the blond girl who sat beside Nikki.

“No.” Joelle leaned against the fence. “I’m Joelle Cunningham. I go to Hoover.”

“So what are you doing here?” the dark-haired girl on the other side of Nikki asked. She grinned. “Scoping out your competition?”

“No.” Joelle shook her head. “I play baseball. A few of us are trying to get a girls’ league going. I came over here to see if any of you guys might be interested.”

Nikki cocked her head. “How would it work?”

“Just like any other baseball league. Except it would be all girls,” Joelle explained. “We’d play with each other and against each other.”

“Excuse me,” the coach interrupted. “Do I hear talking over there?” Her hands were on her hips and she looked irritated.

All four girls spun back around.

“Why don’t you ladies come back out here,” Ms. Azline said. “You can pair up for some more throwing and catching practice.”

“If you’re interested, come to the organizational meeting at the library next Wednesday,” Joelle called as the girls took to the field.

None of them looked back.

Joelle glanced at her watch. Four twenty. Practice wouldn’t last much longer. When it was over, maybe she could talk to the girls some more. And to Coach Azline, too.

The practice went on much longer than Joelle expected. After throwing and catching drills, the team moved on to
running drills. And after running drills there were even more throwing and catching drills.

Every now and then, someone would look over at Joelle or a pair of girls would whisper among themselves, then look at Joelle. Did that mean some of them were interested?

At about ten after five, Coach Azline must have overheard two girls talking. “What’s this about a baseball league?” she asked angrily.

Joelle couldn’t hear what the girls were telling their coach, but afterward they all looked over at her.

“Keep going,” the coach told the girls. She adjusted her cap, then headed toward Joelle. None of the players moved. Their eyes were on their coach.

Uh oh
, Joelle thought, scrambling to her feet.
This lady does not look happy.

“Look, I don’t know who you are or what you’re doing here,” Coach Azline said when she got close to the fence. “But this is a closed practice. I’d appreciate it if you’d leave.”

“I-I just wanted to t-talk to you and those girls,” Joelle stammered. The whole team was watching her now. “There’s a group of us trying to get a girls’ baseball league going and—”

“No one here is interested in a baseball league.” The coach folded her arms across her chest and glared at Joelle.

Joelle felt stung. How did this lady know whether they were interested not? A few of them
looked
interested.