And Don't Bring Jeremy (2 page)

Mom lost her patience. “For goodness sake, Adam, couldn’t he go along? It would be easier for me. I have so much to do tomorrow.”

“Sorry, Mom. I can’t.” To keep the peace, I didn’t bother to add that I was specifically asked not to bring him, and boy, was I glad.

Mom just sighed and looked knowingly at me. In spite of her irritation she really understood. I only wished that the subject of going to Gino’s for lunch had never come up. Eddie had called before dinner to see if I was coming. Of course, Mom and Jeremy
had
to be in the kitchen then and overheard my part of the conversation. Anyway, I did have to check it out with her, so I guess there was no way of avoiding this flak after all.

“Why do you want to go out with that Eddie Gordon anyway?” Jeremy asked. “You always said he was a nasty creep and a sore loser.”

“That was before I got to know him better.”

“I bet it’s ’cause his father’s the coach and you want to make sure he lets you pitch every game.” Jeremy smiled his crooked smile. It was moments like this that I recognized the truth: my brother had problems all right, but in some ways he sure wasn’t dumb.

“Don’t be stupid,” I yelled. “He’s been pretty nice to me lately. The first kid around here who has been, I might add. And he’s friendly with Mark and Danny and I like them.”

Dad pushed back his chair and stood up. “Come on,
Jeremy, let’s get to work. We have to fertilize the ground if you want to have a garden this summer.”

Jeremy’s eyes lit up. “Great! I’ll go and get the stuff from the garage.”

“Don’t forget the shovel.”

“And tomorrow after the game we’ll go to the nursery and get peppers and lettuce and tomatoes and squash and corn. Just like you promised.”

He flew out of his seat and down the steps to
the den and into the garage. Jeremy was funny. He got excited about gardening like I did about baseball.

Dad put his hand on my shoulder. “We’ll have our catch in about an hour, okay?”

“Sure, Dad.” That would give me time to read the baseball scores in the paper and watch part of the game on TV. I got up and brought my dish to the sink, something Jeremy forgot to do for a change.

“Adam, you hardly touched your dinner,” Mom complained.

“I’ll make it up tomorrow,” I promised her.

* * *

It was fun going to Gino’s for lunch. I’d only eaten there once—with Jeremy and my parents—during the winter, when we first moved into the house. The kids at school always talked about meeting at Gino’s. They’d ride over on their bicycles and drink Cokes and play the arcade games or just hang around outside. I never went there again because nobody had ever asked me to—until yesterday, that is.

It was kind of dark inside and I had to squint to see anything. I felt stupid and hoped the other boys were there.

“Hey, Adam. Over here,” Eddie called.

Relieved, I followed his voice to a booth in the back of the long, narrow room. I slid in next to him. Danny and Mark, both grinning, were sitting on the other side. They were all wearing their gray and green uniforms, like I was, and they seemed glad to see me.

Eddie was in a great mood, talking about how we were sure to win today. He kept reaching over to pat one of us and calling us “buddy” or “mate.” It was easy to see why all the kids liked him. I didn’t say much, but it sure felt good to be included.

“We’d better decide what we want to order,” Mark said, “before the crowd gets here.” Mark was big all over—what Mom would call stocky and I’d consider fat—except that I liked Mark. Also, he was a good, all-around ball player. His weight sure didn’t keep him from making plays or from stealing bases when he wanted to.

“Good thinking,” Eddie agreed. “What’s everyone having?”

We decided to order a pie and a half—so everyone could have three pieces—and four Cokes. Eddie and Mark went up to the front to put in our order and wait for the food, since the waitress only served in the restaurant section.

Danny smiled at me across the table. “Don’t expect them back with the food for at least ten minutes,” he said. He was almost as tall as his cousin, but thin, with dark hair and blue eyes. And he had a nice smile. He wasn’t part of the group of boys in our class who hung around with the girls, but sometimes I’d catch a few of the girls looking at him, like they thought he was good-looking.

Neither of us said anything for a while. I guess we were both shy or something. Finally Danny spoke.

“Do you like to paint?” he asked me.

“You mean paint pictures or houses? I’m not too good at either one.”

“I don’t mean either,” he said, then burst out laughing.

I didn’t know what on earth he was laughing at, only that it wasn’t at me. Then suddenly his laughing struck me as funny and I started laughing, too. There we were, carrying on like a couple of hyenas, about what I couldn’t say. Except that it seemed the most natural thing in the world to do.

“I’m not explaining myself too well, am I?” he asked when we calmed down. “What I’m talking about is painting the sets for the class play.”

“Oh,” I said, surprised. “But I really can’t draw or anything.”

“Don’t worry,” he said quickly. “You don’t have to. I just need someone to help me paint the sets after I’ve finished drawing them.”

“Oh,” I said again, not knowing if I wanted to or not. Danny must have decided that I wasn’t going to because he began to reassure me.

“It’s not a lot of work and it’s really fun. We’d be working together. Of course it would be nice if we could get a few more kids, but everyone I’ve asked is involved with the play or just not interested.”

So that was it. He couldn’t get anyone else to help him. I should have figured that was the only reason he was acting friendly all of a sudden. He didn’t really want
me.
I got that familiar sick feeling in the bottom of my stomach when I thought about making friends here in Glen Haven. Danny must have read my thoughts.

“I was going to talk to you about it in school, but Eddie
said you’d be coming here today so I waited until now.”

His blue eyes seemed to be begging me to say yes. I decided to give it a chance, since Mom kept urging me to. Not to let that bad feeling take over. Why shouldn’t I help him paint the sets? I liked Danny and I sure didn’t have anything else to do after school. And Mom would be pleased. She’d say I was finally “getting used to my new environment.”

“I’ll help you,” I said.

“That’s great!” Danny grinned. “I don’t know what I would have done if you hadn’t said yes. Hey, why don’t you come over tomorrow and I’ll show you the sketches I made?”

“Okay,” I said, grinning back at him. I didn’t want to get my hopes up, but I had the definite feeling that I’d just made another friend.

Happiness must have made me very hungry because I ate all of my pizza plus Danny’s last piece. And I got another Coke.

“Hey, Adam, where are you putting it all?” Eddie teased.

Danny giggled. “Adam’s eating so much he won’t be able to run.”

“Sure I will,” I told him. “You’ll see. I’ll fly—if I ever get to hit the ball.”

Everyone laughed good-naturedly at that. I hadn’t been doing too much hitting so far.

“Well, as long as you don’t fall asleep at shortstop,” Mark said. “That would be a disaster.”

“You know I wouldn’t do that,” I said, beaming at the three of them. It was nice being included after all these months.

We rode our bikes over to the baseball field, giving ourselves a good half hour before the rest of the team was supposed to arrive. Eddie and I took the lead while Mark and Danny trailed behind, arguing fiercely over who had a better record over the years—Pete Rose or Carl Yastrzemski.

“I really shouldn’t be telling you this,” Eddie said to me, “but I may as well, since it’s so close to game time.”

I looked at him, suddenly excited.

“Dad said you’d be starting pitcher today,” Eddie said, staring straight ahead. I couldn’t tell if he was mad or not, and for once I didn’t care.

“Yippee!” I shouted, forgetting to act cool.

Eddie smiled. “I think he wants to surprise you, but I couldn’t help telling you. Don’t let on that I told, okay?”

“Sure,” I said, only too happy to agree. Starting pitcher! Too bad Dad had to work and couldn’t watch the game. But Mom would be there.

At the field we tossed the ball around, then practiced catching pop flies and grounders. We took turns batting as Eddie and I pitched. My arm felt great. I was sure I could strike out all nine batters in the three innings I was allowed to pitch.

Eddie’s father arrived, then the umpire, then Richie, Eric, and Jeff—all seventh graders—and the rest of the team, my age or a year younger. Mom must have come while we were warming up because I happened to look up and saw her talking to Danny’s mother. I waved and she waved back, then she continued her conversation. I was glad to see her talking to Mrs. Martin. Mom worked at the bank all day and hardly knew anyone in the neighborhood yet.

“’Lo, Adam.”

Jeremy stood in front of me like he was waiting for me to tell him what to do.

“Here, Adam!”

I reached out and caught the ball Mark had thrown to me. Jeremy still stood there.

“Come on, Adam. Throw the ball,” Eddie shouted.

“Go on, move,” I told Jeremy. Seeing him standing there like a fool, I wished he’d disappear. He had no business interfering with my game and my new friends.

“Where should I go?”

I looked around for a gap in the large circle we had formed. I saw one near Richie and pointed. “Go over there.”

He stared at the spot for a moment, then shuffled over. I felt like wringing his neck. As usual, he didn’t know what to do. And he always came to me to find out. I was glad when Mr. Gordon finally called us over for positions and last-minute instructions. Why did Mom have to put us both on the same team? Didn’t she ever stop and think about the effect having a brother like Jeremy had on me?

The first half of the game moved slowly. It was boring, actually. Mr. Gordon had Eddie pitch the first three innings, so I was really disappointed. I mean, didn’t Eddie just tell me that his father planned to make me starting pitcher? Or was Eddie just saying that for some stupid reason? I couldn’t figure it out.

I played shortstop and didn’t get to field one ball. Jeremy was far back in the outfield, along with the fifth graders. Eddie began striking out the other side one by one. Big Bob, the Lawson Cleaners’ starting pitcher, did the same. At least there was some excitement in the third inning. With two outs, Eddie gave up a walk, a single, and another walk. Another guy singled and drove in a run. Finally, with all of us holding our breath, Eddie struck the third man out.

By the time I got to pitch in the fourth inning, the score was tied at one apiece. Mark had hit a homer in the bottom of the third inning with no one on base. I wasn’t nervous when I got to the mound, just excited.

I was off to an excellent start, striking out the first two men. Then one of their big hitters bounced a hard ball in my direction. I fielded it to Eddie on first for the last out. Everyone clapped and cheered. Boy, did that feel great!

We picked up a run in the bottom of the fourth inning, and the other team came back strong, determined to score. Two men singled back to back, then a third hit a pop-up and we doubled up the man at second. Two outs. When I struck the next guy out, I walked off the mound with a sigh of relief. Three more outs and we had the game.

Only it didn’t happen that way.

I did strike out the first man. Then walked the second. No big deal, I thought. But Big Bob, their strongest hitter, was up again at bat. He slammed the first ball I threw him over my head. The guy I walked was nearing second base. I turned and saw Jeremy waving his hands above his head like a crazy man.

“Go away, go away,” he was shouting to the fifth graders running toward him. “I’ve got it. It’s mine!”

He cupped his other hand to his mitt and the ball landed—right at his feet.

“Dammit, Jeremy,” I shouted.

One of the other fielders picked up the ball to throw it
to Danny on third. But it was too late. Big Bob was reaching home plate.

“Who cares?” Jeremy said as he walked off the field. “It’s only a game.”

That did it! I jumped on his back and threw him to the ground, punching all the time. Eddie’s father came and separated us. He sent Jeff in to pitch the rest of the game, and we lost 4–2.

CHAPTER 3

As soon as Mr. Gordon told us when he was holding our next practice, I took off. Just got on my bicycle and rode around. At first I thought I was getting lost, but then I passed Gino’s and I realized that I wasn’t very far from home.

Home. Hah, that was some joke. It was a nice enough house, I guess. The rooms were large and the backyard sunny, but I still couldn’t think of it as home. Home was the small ranch on Chestnut Street, about an hour’s ride away. It was the only home I could remember; we’d moved there when I was just born. My friend Kenny lived around the corner and Billy was across the street. Boy, did I miss them. Mom kept promising she’d take me back there one Saturday so I could see them, but she never got the chance to, with all her errands and fixing up the new house.