"I never burn," Jimmy said.
"Famous last words," Grandma said.
Then Dad, who'd had supper in his room, came down in his robe. He clinked a spoon against a glass and said, "I'd like your attention for a minute."
Everyone looked at him.
"I behaved very badly this afternoon," he said. "And I want to apologize to everyone on the boat... but especially to Muriel... who saved the day."
"Apology accepted," Grandma said.
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I was proud of Dad for admitting that he'd acted like a sore loser. So when he looked over at me I gave him the high sign and he smiled.
Then Mr. Fargo clinked a spoon against his glass. He stood up and said, "I want to thank Tootsie for walking across my canvas and giving me the idea for a series of paintings called
Baby Feet."
"Here, here..." Buzzy Senior said, raising his coffee cup. "Let's have a toast to
Baby Feet
and to Muriel, who always saves the day!" He gave Grandma a big kiss.
Grandma blushed. "Buzzy..." she said. "Not in front of the children."
Somehow I don't think Grandma was talking about us when she said
children.
I think she meant Mom and Dad and Mr. and Mrs. Tubman. Because they were the only ones who looked surprised by that kiss.
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"Doesn't it look good?" He handed his baseball glove to me. "Feel how soft it is."
"What'd you do?" I asked. There were dark splotches all over it.
"Oiled it, like the man in the store said."
"What'd you use?"
"Guess."
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I sniffed his glove. There was a familiar smell to it.
"I'll give you a hint," he sang. "It's pink."
"Pink oil?"
"Yes!" he said. "You give up?"
"Yeah... I definitely give up."
"Oil of Olay." He gave me one of his satisfied smiles.
"You used Oil of Olay on your mitt?"
He nodded proudly.
"Oil of Olay is for skin, Turkey Brain! Mom uses it on her face."
"I'm not a turkey brain! You're the turkey brain and you're just jealous because your mitt's not as soft as mine."
"Yeah... right... and I'm jealous that my mitt doesn't smell like that pink stuff, too!"
"I
like
that smell."
"I'm glad... because you're going to be smelling it for a long time. What'd you do... use up the whole bottle?"
"The man in the store said to oil it every night... remember?"
"He said a few drops... and he was talking about neat's-foot oil." "What's neat's-foot oil?" "It's what you're supposed to use on a baseball glove."
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I watched the expression on his face change as he got the message. "Never Oil of Olay?" he asked, in a small voice.
I shook my head.
Now he was about two seconds away from tears.
Why didn't I just tell him his glove looks great Why'd I have to make such a big thing out of it?
So I said, "Look... it's not like you did anything wrong. You were just being... uh..." I paused, trying to find the right word. "Creative?" he asked.
"Yeah... creative." I handed him his glove and went to see what Jimmy was doing. He was still in bed, sound asleep. "Hey, Jimmy... wake up..."
He rolled over and buried his head under the pillow. "I'm not getting up today," he mumbled, curling himself into a ball.
I pulled the covers off him. "The ball game starts at 10 A.M."
"What ball game?"
"You
know
what ball game."
"Oh, that ball game. I'll probably strike out every time I'm up"
"So what?" I said. "It's not every day you get to play with Big Apfel." "I never even heard of this guy until you started in on him."
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"Too bad," I said, "because he's headed for the Hall of Fame."
"Says who?" Jimmy asked.
"Says me!"
There were more people at the high school field than I had ever seen in Southwest Harbor. And more dogs than I had ever seen anywhere, except in Central Park on a sunny day. Enough dogs for a team of their own.
When Sheila saw all those dogs, she screamed and ran back to her father's car. "I'll wait here!" she said, slamming the door.
"It's going to be a long wait," Mr. Tubman told her.
"I don't mind," Sheila said. "I brought a book, just in case."
"I thought you're not afraid of dogs anymore," I said.
"I'm not... once I know them. But strange dogs can give you diseases."
"Not if you don't kiss them," I said.
"Ha ha!"
"If you change your mind..." Mr. Tubman began.
"I'll never change my mind!" Sheila told him.
Mr. Tubman shook his head but he didn't force Sheila out of the car.
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Jimmy and I headed for the field. I stopped in my tracks when I saw this great-looking girl in a red-striped T-shirt, stretching out near third base.
It was Isobel!
"That's her," I told Jimmy. He gave me a blank look. "Isobel... from the library," I said. "Really?" Jimmy said. "That's Izzy?" "Yeah!" "She's incredibly ugly!" "What! Are, you, crazy?" I said. "She's beautiful!"
Jimmy slapped his thigh and laughed. "I got you that time," he said. "Very funny," I told him. There were other familiar faces, too. The woman who owns Oz Books was there. I call her Dorothy of Oz, even though that's not her real name. And the butcher, from Sawyer's Market. Bicycle Bob was there too. He said, "So... how's the newest member of the I.S.A.F. Club?" "Great," I told him. "Keeping your mouth shut?" he asked. "I'm trying." "That's the way!" He cuffed me on the shoulder. Suddenly a low murmur ran through the crowd. Everyone looked toward home plate. And there he was! Dressed in full Red Sox uniform.
Big Apfel... in the flesh!
I recognized him right away. First, by his
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Height -- six feet six inches without spikes--and second, because he still looks a lot like the picture on his baseball card. Except he's gained a few pounds and now his hair is gray.
Everyone gathered around him. You could feel the excitement. Mitzi and Fudge were right in the middle of it, each with an arm around one of Big's legs. I tried to work my way closer but I got shoved aside by the guy from the hardware store.
My heart was pounding.
Please let me be on his team,
I prayed.
I'll never ask for another thing if I can just play on his team.
Then Big spoke and his voice boomed. "As most of you already know, these old knees aren't what they used to be. I can't take the field or run the bases anymore." He looked right at me and nodded, as if he knew me. "But I can still knock one out of here every now and then!"
I cheered with the crowd.
"So to be fair," Big continued, "I bat for both sides!"
Everybody cheered again. Everybody except me. "What?" I said. "How can he bat for both sides? That's impossible. That's against the official rules."
"When in
Rome..." some woman, who was standing next to me, said.
I glared at her.
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She glared back and repeated the whole phrase, as if I hadn't gotten it the first time.
"When in
Rome, do as the Romans do."
"I've got news for you," I told her, feeling my face turn hot. "We're not in Rome."
"And I've got news for you,
junior,"
she said. "Rudeness will not be tolerated in this game!"
"Who's being rude?" I asked.
"Cut it out, Peter," Jimmy whispered, grabbing my arm. I shook him off.
"Calm down... will you?" he said. "It's just a game."
"I suppose you think it's fair for him to bat for both sides."
"Yeah... I do."
I looked away. My throat felt tight.
Big grabbed a fistful of straws and everyone who wanted to be captain drew one, including Jimmy and me.
"Look..." Fudge said, holding up a short straw. "I'm captain!"
Isobel held up the other short straw. "I'm captain, too!"
"I can't believe this!" I said.
"Maybe she'll pick you for her team," Jimmy said.
"Yeah... sure." I wasn't about to admit I was hoping the same thing.
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"Hey, Izzy..." Fudge called. "I'm writing that book. I'm already on Chapter Four."
"Fantastic!" Isobel called back.
"Let's go!" some guy with a serpent tattoo shouted. "Choose up sides! This is a ball game... not a social hour."
Captain Fudge, with his Oil of Olay mitt, got to choose first. So who did he pick? The biggest, strongest-looking player? No... that would have made too much sense. He chose Mitzi.
Then it was Isobel's turn.
If I were the Amazing Kreskin I'd be able to make her choose me.
I concentrated on my name, trying to get the message through to her.
Peter Warren Hatcher. Peter Warren Hatcher.
Isobel looked at me and smiled.
Yes!
I thought.
It's going to work.
I closed my eyes.
When I did, Isobel chose Tony Ickle.
Then Fudge picked me.
Good-bye, Isobel.
I tried to get him to choose Jimmy next, so at least I'd have a friend on my team. But did he listen? No! And Jimmy wound up on Isobel's team. Nothing was working out the way I'd planned. Absolutely nothing!
Our side took the field.
When in Rome
was on first base, I was on second, and Buzzy Senior was on third. Fudge and Mitzi stood right next to each other
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at shortstop. And Dad was on the mound. Isobel's team lined up. Tony Ickle was their first batter. Dad threw a fastball but it was wild. He threw six more before he settled down. Lucky for us it's a no-walk game. Tony popped up the first one that crossed the plate. It came toward me. I was ready for it but I took my eye off the ball--just for a second--just to make sure Big Apfel was watching. When I did, the ball dropped at my feet. I picked it up and panicked. My throw to first went over the head of
When in
Rome. "Wake up, junior!" she yelled. "Where are your eyes... in the back of your head?" I could feel everyone staring at me. I swallowed hard and blinked back tears.
If only I could
do it over I know I'd make the catch. "It's all right, Peter..." Dad said. "We all make mistakes."
Sure,
I thought.
But we don't all make
two
on the
first play of the game. My legs were shaking and I felt Grandma's pancakes bouncing around in my stomach. Before the first half of the first inning was over Isobel's team had five runs and Big hadn't even come up. When he did, he slammed one out of sight and two more runs scored.
Finally it was our turn at bat. Bicycle Bob was
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on the mound for Isobels team and he put every pitch right down the middle. By the time I came up we had two on and two out.
Okay,
I thought.
This is it. This is my big chance. I can make up for my errors now. All I have to do is concentrate...
I stood up to the plate. Bicycle Bob wasn't going to get anything by me. I could feel Big watching. I could feel him thinking,
This guy might have potential after all.
Bicycle Bob wound up and threw the first pitch. I took a huge cut and missed, spinning all the way around.
"It's
Fudge-a-mania!"
Mitzi sang.
"No it's not," Fudge told her. "It's a strike!"
"Oh," Mitzi said, disappointed.
I took another swing and missed again.
"Keep your eye on the ball, Pete!" Fudge called. Just what I needed. My five-year-old brother giving me tips at the plate.
Bicycle Bob threw the next pitch. This time I was ready for it. I heard the
crack
of the bat as it connected with the ball. It was a good, strong shot.
But, wait! It was headed straight for Grandma,
who was playing deep at third!
"Run!!!" my team yelled.
I ran for first, trying to keep my eye on Grandma at the same time. I hoped the ball wouldn't knock her down.
But I worried for nothing, because Grandma
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jumped with her glove held high. She made a fantastic catch. I was out. Isobel's team cheered.
Thanks a lot, Grandma
!
Just when I thought things couldn't get any worse, they did. We were back in the field. Isobel came up to the plate. She's one of those players who wiggles the bat. Actually, she wiggles more than the bat but I tried not to notice.
She knocked a slow grounder right at Mitzi. But Mitzi knew what to do. She had her glove on the ground and her legs together so the ball couldn't get through. She stopped it. She picked it up. "Look!" she called, showing everyone. "I got the ball!"
"Throw!" we all yelled at her. She looked confused, then threw the ball to Fudge, who was standing right next to her.
By then Isobel was on her way to second. "Here!" I yelled at Fudge.
But instead of throwing the ball he ran it over and personally handed it to me. By then Isobel was on her way to third.
"Throw, Peter!" Buzzy Senior yelled.
But I was scared I'd throw it away again. So I decided to fake a throw instead. And it worked!
Isobel headed back to second. When she realized I still had the ball she turned and tried for third again. We had her trapped between the bases. There was only one sure way to get her out.
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So I ran after her. It wasn't my fault she changed directions
again
and we collided, falling to the ground together.
"This isn't football!" she shouted. Then she stood up, brushed herself off and marched off the field.
"Yea, Izzy!" Fudge cheered.
"She's on the other team!" I told him. "You're supposed to cheer for me. I'm the one who tagged her out."
"Yea, Pete!" he and Mitzi cheered, jumping up and down. They were the only ones who did.
As if that weren't enough, in the final inning Jimmy hit a perfect double to left field. And Big shouted, "Way to go, son!" I thought Big wasn't supposed to root for either team. I thought he was supposed to stay neutral.
Finally, the game was over. Captain Fudge didn't mind that his team lost 26 to 8. Or that he struck out every time he came to bat. He and Jimmy yakked all the way home. They sang "Take Me Out to the Ball game." They made plans for next Sunday's game.
"I thought you have to leave on Thursday," I said.
"Nah... my dad said as long as the weather's good we can stay a while longer."
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"Great," I said, but I wasn't sure I meant it.
"Big says I have real potential," Jimmy told me. "He says I just have to build up my confidence. He says once I have confidence there won't be any stopping me. I might even be heading for the majors."
"Great," I said again. Now I knew how Dad felt yesterday, on the boat. Like a real loser.
"And it's all thanks to you, Peter!" Jimmy said, dropping his arm over my shoulder. "If you hadn't forced me out of bed this morning none of this would have happened. You're
really
my best friend!"