Center Field (18 page)

He felt the springy green grass and soft earth under his spikes, the June sun cooking the hairs on the back of his neck. He took a deep breath and closed his eyes to hold the moment. He remembered visualizing this day back in March, before the season began, a lifetime ago, before Kat and Oscar and Zack, when Cody was the coach and Billy Budd was a mythical creature on his screen and on his wall.

“Yo, Mak.” Ryan, trotting out to right field, lobbed a soft toss. Mike caught it, turned, and lobbed it to Eric Nola in left, who made the long throw over Mike's head to Ryan. He had wondered if he and Ryan would ever be best friends again, if he even wanted to be, but after a while they had drifted back together, throwing soft punches and wisecracks, and he realized that their friendship was long but not deep, and that was okay, too. He was glad Andy had rejoined the team. As captain, Mike could use
a wingman with a big mouth.

Craig finished his warm-ups and stood impatiently on the mound as Coach Sherman, Jimmy Russo, and the infield gathered around to calm him down. Of all the seniors, Craig had taken Coach Cody's sudden disappearance hardest. He lost his swaggering confidence for a while, as if he had gotten it from Cody. He wasn't the only one who expected Cody to show up one day, in camo, armed, to clean up the school. But as weeks passed and the cops and the counselors assured everyone that Cody was gone for good, Craig's fastball started cooking again. Still, he was tight and jittery before a game. Who wasn't?

Mike rechecked the flag moving gently above the scoreboard. The light breeze was still blowing in. Fly balls would hang. Need to play even shallower than usual.

The band struck up the school song and the cheerleaders began a tumbling routine. Lori and Tori twirled. They still weren't talking to Mike, but Lori had given him a tight smile as they passed in the hall today. He felt sorry for Lori although her suffering act was getting old. Ryan said if he groveled just a little he could hook up with her again, but what was the point? You can't go backward.

The meeting at the mound broke up and Coach Sherman yelled, “Shake your eyeballs, Rangers.” When he took over there was talk about changing the nickname back to
Ridgerunners but the school board didn't want to pay for fixing the scoreboard and the uniforms. Maybe next year. He wondered if Cody was keeping up with the team, wherever he was. He was a good coach, Mike thought, and he brought me up to the varsity. But he was a bad guy. The local police and a woman from the FBI had talked to him, but not all that much, and it was not as exciting as
CSI
. Dad said the school and the town wanted to keep it all as quiet as possible. There was a notice that Cody had left for “personal” reasons.

Wonder what Oscar's doing back in the DR. Maybe he's already sneaked back into the country to play at some other high school. Be great to see his name on a major league roster someday. Imagine if he signed with the Yankees, pushed Billy Budd to left field. Of course, not the way Billy's playing this season. We're burning up our leagues together again.

He scanned the stands until he found the Mike Semak section. Mom and Dad were waving. They had even less time now with both stores open, but they made at least a few innings of his home games. Love to see them here, but I'd understand if they didn't show. They've always been there when we needed them, Scotty was right about that. And Scotty was right to tell Dad about Coach Cody. Couldn't have done it alone. Still get chills thinking about
Dad walking into Coach's office like in the closing minutes of
Law & Order
. Scotty loved hearing that, cheered him up. His ensemble did okay in Amsterdam but they didn't win. The viola. Next time.

Zack and the Cyber Club were sitting behind Mom and Dad cheering for him. Josh and Tyler were there, although he still wasn't sure which was which. Some of the old folks, including Regina Marie. He promised to go back to the senior center after the season. Teach them how to hack. That got a laugh from Zack.

On RidgedaleReform.org he'd read that Nick had been spotted buying a beer in a Nearmont bar just before it was busted for serving underage kids. He was narking again for the local police. Need to catch up to him one of these days. Not such a bad guy.

Time to get your head in the game.

Easy, Mak, you've got a minute. You can't enjoy the now unless you remember the then. Who said that? You did.

Not bad for a dumb jock. Remember to tell Kat that one. She said she'd call after the game. I finally have a reason to leave my cell on, especially at night when she has time to call. Lots of activities and meetings and therapy sessions in that group home. With every call her voice sounds lighter, clearer. He could tell she was as happy to hear his voice as he was to hear hers. She was taking less medicine, she said,
and coming to better understand Kat and Tigerbitch. She might be back for a visit this summer. His body flushed at the thought.

He'd never talked so much to another human being as he talked to Kat late at night. She loved to hear about him and Zack teaming up to bring down Cody. Made him tell that story over and over. She always howled with laughter at his junk food runs for Zack, and the first couple of times he described the final scene in Cody's office she started sniffling when Dad showed up.

And she loved to hear about the first times he had watched the video that won the Billy Budd contest, how his own focus had slowly widened until he saw all the other people in the room.

He tried to talk about what had happened inside him since that March afternoon in the boys' locker room, how he had changed, but he just wasn't ready yet. Maybe he was saving that for when they were together again.

Okay, Mak, drill down. Game time.

The first batter strutted to the plate. Right-hander, a pull hitter according to scouting reports. Mike waved Eric closer to the left field foul line and signaled Ryan to take a few steps in.

He zoned in, hummed to himself,
We're born again, there's new grass on the field.

ROBERT LIPSYTE
is an award-winning sportswriter for
The New York Times
and
USA Today
and is the author of a number of acclaimed books, including
The Contender
and
Raiders Night.
He is also the recipient of the Margaret A. Edwards Award honoring the whole of his contribution to literature for young readers. He lives in New York. You can visit him online at www.robertlipsyte.com.

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Jacket art © 2010 by Jonathan Barkat

Jacket design by Amy Ryan