Authors: Gene Fehler
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Copyright © 2008 by Gene Fehler
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All rights reserved. Originally published in hardcover in the United States by Clarion Books, an imprint of Houghton Mifflin Harcourt Publishing Company, 2008.
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For information about permission to reproduce selections from this book, write to Permissions, Houghton Mifflin Harcourt Publishing Company, 215 Park Avenue South, New York, New York 10003.
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The Library of Congress has cataloged the print edition as follows:
Fehler, Gene, 1940â
Beanball / by Gene Fehler.
p. cm.
Summary: Relates, from diverse points of view, events surrounding the critical injury of a popular and talented high school athlete, Luke “Wizard” Wallace, when he is hit in the face by a fastball.
[1. BaseballâFiction. 2. Sports injuriesâFiction. 3. Interpersonal relationsâFiction. 4. High schoolsâFiction. 5. SchoolsâFiction.] I. Title.
PZ7.F3318Bea 2008
[Fic]âdc22 2007013058
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ISBN: 978-0-618-84348-0 hardcover
ISBN: 978-0-547-55001-5 paperback
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eISBN 978-0-547-53400-8
v2.0614
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For
Polly,
Andy & Kellie,
Tim & Jacquelyn,
Mireille & Gabrielle,
with love
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Special thanks to
Marcia Leonard
Dinah Stevenson
Caryn Wiseman
Oak Grove baseball team
Luke “Wizard” Wallace, center fielder
Andy Keller, backup infielder
Paul Gettys, pitcher
Daryl Hucklebee, coach
Gordie Anderson, outfielder
Craig Foltz, second baseman
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Compton baseball team
Red Bradington, coach
Kyle Dawkins, pitcher
Dalton Overmire, shortstop
Pete Preston, catcher
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Oak Grove High School
Melody Mercer, student
Janice Trucelli, English teacher
Sarah Edgerton, student
Elaine Cotter, substitute teacher
Victor Sanderson, history teacher
Lisalette Dobbs, student
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The Wallace family
Michelle Wallace, Luke's mother
Larry Wallace, Luke's father
Randy Wallace, Luke's grandfather
Elizabeth Wallace, Luke's grandmother
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At the hospital
Dr. Wesley Hunter, ophthalmologist
Alice Gooding, nurse
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Others
Tim Burchard, umpire
Clarissa Keller, Andy's sister
Roland Zachary, baseball scout
Sally Anderson, nurse (and Gordie's mother)
Willard Kominski, baseball fan
Nancy Keller, Andy and Clarissa's mother
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“This is our year, Andy. I'm sure of it.
I had this dream last night.”
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“Okay, Wizard. Let's hear it.”
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“I dreamed it was Awards Night.
Coach Hucklebee was holding up a big trophy: State champs.
There were two little statues on top.
One was you and one was me. Co-MVPs.”
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“Hey, that must mean Coach picked me to start at third base.”
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“Sure. Why else would I have dreamed it?”
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“I hope you're right.
Wait'll you hear about
my
dream.
I dreamed I was making out with Lisalette Dobbs.”
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“You and Lisalette?
Only
in your dreams.”
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“I know she's out of my league, but . . .”
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“I'll say this, pal: The chances of you starting at third
and of us winning State are better than the chances
of you making out with Lisalette Dobbs.”
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“You think?”
I saw a shooting star last night.
If you see one,
you're supposed to make a wish.
So I did.
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I wished that Luke and Andy would stay best friends
forever and ever.
Or at least until I'm in high school.
That would mean Luke will keep coming to our house.
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I know an eleventh grader would never have
a sixth grader for a girlfriend.
I'm not dumb.
But maybe someday he'll look at me
and not just see somebody's little sister.
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I hope Andy and Luke stay friends till then.
What I love most about football
is when I jump up between two defenders
and feel the ball slap against my hands and stay there;
then I break a tackle and know that nobody can catch me.
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In basketball, it's when I'm on my game,
and I know, just know,
that when the ball spins off my fingertips,
it'll hit nothing but net.
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Baseballâthat's the best of all.
I'm in center field, a sea of green all around me.
I see the batter swing,
and I know that if the ball is hit anywhere near me,
I'll make the catch.
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I read a book about an old-time ballplayer,
Shoeless Joe Jackson.
He was such a great fielder, people called his glove
“the place where triples go to die.”
Standing out in center field, I think, “That's me, too.”
Nobody can ever take that feeling away.
Sure I'm disappointed. Who wouldn't be?
I thought I'd be the starting third baseman.
Luke thought so, too.
But with just a few days to go before our first game,
Coach came up with this brainstorm:
Move Ricky from right field to third.
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Coach figures he'll get more batting punch
if he puts Ricky at third and Julio in right,
but I think I'm as strong a hitter as either of them.
Coach has given me a fair shot;
I'm not saying he hasn't.
It's just that I haven't hit as well as I know I can.
Luke thinks I'm trying too hard,
putting too much pressure on myself.
He says I should keep my head up, that I'll get my chance.
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I hope he's right.
Coach has a saying: “You can't go undefeated
unless you win the first one.”
I owe this win to the Wizard.
I wasn't sharp. Gave up six runs.
Didn't deserve to win.
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It was in the low forties today.
Brrr.
I like it hot.
Sweat dripping down.
My right arm as loose as an old sock.
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I'd never let Coach hear me blame the cold, though.
Shoot, Coach hates excuses.
He says, “An excuse is a crutch for losers”
and “An excuse is like trying to patch
an amputated arm with a Band-Aid.”
Hucklebee's a great coach,
even if he does go overboard with his cornball sayings.
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Anyway, I just wasn't getting my pitches where I wanted them.
That's the whole thing.
Lucky for me, our offense pounded the ball.
Got me seven runs to work with.
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Last ups, they loaded the bases with two outs.
Then a guy I should have been able to strike out
blooped one into short center.
It was a sure hit. No human could get to it.
But the WizardâLuke Wallaceâcame out of nowhere
and made a sliding catch
to save the game.
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I didn't deserve the win, but I'll take it.
My team came through for me.
I'll take credit for Luke's nickname:
The Wizard.
Oh, yeah.
I started calling him that
'cause he's a wizard with the mitt.
I've known him since fifth grade,
and the times I've seen him drop a ball,
even in practice,
I could count on one hand.
Hey, I'd even have a few fingers left over.
He can outrun any fly ball,
and once he gets to it, it sticks to his glove
like a piece of fuzz to a sweater.
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I bet there aren't many big leaguers
who can play the outfield better.
I feel bad for Andy.
He was counting on starting,
which didn't happen,
and then he only got in for an inning
in our first game.
But he's a good ballplayer,
and this will just make him more determined.
Hell break into the starting lineup yet.
Coach is fair. He likes guys who hustle,
and nobody hustles more than Andy.
What he lacks in raw talent,
he makes up for in desire.
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We've been best friends for years,
practiced together thousands of hoursâ
baseball, football, basketball.
The thing about him that amazes me:
I know he thinks it all comes so easy for me,
but he's never acted jealous,
not even once.
I'm going to have to decideâ
who to go to prom with, I mean.
I expect at least three guys will ask me.
It's a pain, having to decide,
but I guess my problem isn't the worst one a girl can have.
I know some girls who won't get asked at all.
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I don't know why anybody would want
to go steady with one boy.
High school is too early to get tied down.
Look at my mom.
She dated the same guy all through high school.
She was married at nineteen
and divorced before she was thirty.
I want to make sure I pick the right guyâ
if
I ever decide to get married.
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I wouldn't mind going to prom with Luke.
He's the guy I've been going out with the most.
He's fun. And he likes me a lot.
I just don't know if I want to get too serious
with one of the school's biggest jocks.
That's what Mom did, and look how she ended up.
Sports were more important to Dad than Mom was.
Or me, even.
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I like dating Brett. His parents are rich,
so he has plenty of money to spend on me.
I think Derek would be the best date, though.
He's absolutely gorgeousâthe hottest guy in school.
He should be prom king, for sure,
and I have a good chance to be queen.
Wouldn't that make some photo?
Derek and me, all dressed up, looking beautiful together?
Luke Wallace isn't one of my top students,
only one of my favorites.
Not that I'd ever say that in public, of course.
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I know he's capable of doing A work,
but it's pretty obvious he waits until the last minute
to write his essays and doesn't leave himself time
to do any revising or proofreading.
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Oh, he exasperates me!
To him, the difference between an A and a B- or even a C+