Double Play at Short (6 page)

Proof that he and Tammy had more in common than playing shortstop.

A lot more.

During the next few days, Danny worked like a demon around the house and garden. He always seemed to be there right when the
mail carrier came, too.

“What did you send away for?” asked Jennifer, grabbing some magazines from him the morning of the third game in the series.
“A magic decoder ring?”

“Don’t be funny,” he said. “This is serious. I’m waiting for some very important information to get here.”

“Oh, an application?” she asked.

He blanched. His jaw dropped. How could she have known? Had she been listening in on the extension upstairs when he called
the 800 number? He was about to accuse her of eavesdropping — which was totally forbidden in the Walker household — when she
finished her question.

“For college?” she went on. “Why don’t you wait until after the series. Maybe you’ll have something special to put down. I
don’t even want to say the
words that come after
county,
‘cause I don’t want to jinx you. Especially before today’s game.”

“Hey, thanks a lot,” Danny said. He gave her a friendly tap on her shoulder. “You’re okay, you know?” He dumped the mail on
the little desk in the front hall.

Brinnnng!

The telephone rang, and Jennifer flew off upstairs to answer it.

“It’s probably for me!” she called behind.

Her quick departure knocked the letters off the desk. When Danny stooped to pick them up, he saw that he had missed one addressed
to him. It looked just like those sweepstakes letters his folks always got, with a fancy border all around the envelope. But
there was his name right on the address label.

He ripped it open and read the letter on top of the application form.

Dear Mr. Walker

Thank you for your inquiry
…

The letter was long and there were a lot of sentences that didn’t half make sense. But down near the bottom he came to the
bad news.

To cover the cost of servicing your application, we require an initial deposit of $100. This will be credited against the
final cost of our investigation.

A hundred dollars! And that’s just to start! There was no way he could come up with anywhere near that amount.

“Aren’t you getting ready for the game?” his mother called out to him from the back of the house.

“Yes!” he answered quickly. He shoved the letter into his back pocket and ran upstairs.

He changed as fast as he could, carelessly dumping his clothes in a heap on the floor as he pulled on his uniform. At the
last second, he remembered the roll of film he’d shot at the previous game. He grabbed it out of his camera and headed back
downstairs.

“Hey, Mom!” he called. “Could you drop this film off for me?”

“Sure,” his mother answered. “And Danny, I’m sorry I haven’t been able to make any of your games. I’ve just been too busy
at work to get away.”

It seemed to Danny that she was about to say something else. But instead, she dug her car keys out of her pocketbook and unlocked
the car door.

A few minutes later, Danny was warming up on the field with the rest of the team.

“Danny, you’re back at short,” Coach Lattizori announced when he called the team together. “We’ll go with the same lineup
as the first game. I took a look at the Jaguars’ roster. They’re doing the same thing. Okay, folks, let’s see some real good
baseball out there now.”

The third game began. Both teams played well during the first inning. The Bullets batted first and managed to hit some pitches.
But only one of them ended up in fair territory for a hit. With a runner on base, Ken popped one up that the pitcher, Andy
Hooten, caught to retire the Bullets.

When the Jaguars were at bat, Marc gave up one walk, but he struck out the next batter. Then Marsha Kerns almost hit into
a double play with a line drive to second base. But Vern’s peg to Danny, who was covering second, wasn’t quick enough. The
runner advanced. Then, to shatter the Jaguars’ hopes of scoring that inning, Roy Feenie struck out.

Danny led off for the Bullets at the top of the second. As he stepped into the batter’s box, he felt pretty good. Then he
stared down the line toward
the pitcher’s mound. In the corner of his eye he could see Tammy settling down, crouching, waiting for the play.

“Strike!”

That brought him back to the game real fast. He hadn’t even seen that pitch.

But he did get a fix on the next one — and a piece of it with his bat. The ball sailed into center field and in a matter of
seconds, he was on base with a clean single. It felt good to get a hit first time at bat.

Standing on the bag while the next batter got set, he glanced across the field. This time he couldn’t help but see Tammy.
She had taken off her cap and was tugging at her ponytail, sort of pushing it out of the way. But she was staring straight
across the field — at him. And she was scowling. It was the kind of look he’d seen on linemen in football games when the TV
showed a close-up — real mean and unfriendly.

Maybe she’s just angry that I got the game’s first hit, he thought. Or maybe something else is bothering her.

He didn’t have a lot of time to dwell on that question. The crack of the bat set him off to second base,
where he arrived safely despite a good catch by the Jaguars’ right fielder for the first out.

Andy Hooten recovered his stuff and struck out the next two Bullets batters. That ended Danny’s chance for scoring that inning.

At the top of the third, the Jaguars went down one-two-three in what turned out to be one of the quickest innings of the series.
One strikeout, one pop fly, and one foul ball caught by the third baseman. According to the scorebook, Marc had thrown only
seven pitches! Danny hadn’t even had to wipe off his forehead.

“Nice going, Marc,” said Danny, coming off the field. He caught himself before he said anything else. Marc was working on
a shutout, and he didn’t want to jinx it.

Gee, he thought, I’m as superstitious as Jennifer. I guess it runs in the family. That started the old brain machinery going.
Family. What did it mean? He and Jennifer were both adopted. But the Walkers were one of the closest, most loving families
in town. Sure, they fought once in a while, but they were a family. That meant everything to him. So why was he sniffing around
outside of it, looking for
information about someone he’d never even officially
met?

While Danny mulled this over, Marc started off the inning by striking out. Then the top of the Bullets’ batting order came
up to the plate. Vern got the fans on their feet with a line drive between short and third that turned into a single. Then
Elaine’s powerful swing sent one deep into center. Vern advanced easily to third, and Elaine stood up safely at second.

With only one out, the chances of scoring during that inning looked pretty good. Mike was up at bat next, and Danny knew he
was capable of the big one.

But the Jaguars’ pitcher knew that, too. He kept the ball so far away from Mike that the Bullets’ third baseman ended up jogging
down to first on a walk. The bases were now loaded.

That brought Ken up. He had yet to connect with the ball this game. Unfortunately that record held. Ken went down swinging
for the second Bullets out. Danny came up to bat.

This was his big chance. Two away. Bases loaded. Nothing but goose eggs on the scoreboard for both teams.

“Just a hit, Danny,” Coach Lattizori had said when he grabbed his batting helmet. “That’s all you have to do. Go out there,
relax, and let your instincts take over. You’re a natural, and you’ll find yourself a nice piece of the ball.”

That wasn’t enough. He was sure that the redheaded shortstop was glaring across the infield at him. He’d show her. He’d come
up with the big one. He could practically taste it.

Danny rubbed his toe in the dirt, then settled in to the batter’s box.

The Jaguars’ pitcher released a fastball. Danny swung hard — but just barely connected. The ball went foul.

The next pitch was a repeat of the first. So was Danny’s hit. With the count now at 0 and 2, Danny could feel the tension
getting to him. He stepped quickly out of the batter’s box.

He tried not to even hear the shouting from the stands as the Bullets fans clamored for a hit.

Instead he scanned the field. Everyone was in position. There were playing him deep. They expected him to go for the big one.
That’s what he wanted. All he had to do was hit the ball squarely with the piece
of wood he held in his tight grip. Forget about that blur between second and third with a glint of auburn hair. Don’t even
think about her, he said to himself as he stepped back into the box.

Whoosh!

He caught the pitcher’s motion out of the corner of his eye. Instinctively, he swung. And this time, he connected solidly.

But it wasn’t enough. With a perfectly timed leap into the air, Tammy Aiken caught his hard-hit ball for the third out.

The others on the team tried to hide their disappointment.

“That was an unbelievable catch,” said Joel. “Just like you would have done, Danny.”

“Just don’t let it get you down. You’ll get another shot,” said Joanne.

Yeah, but would it happen this game? Would the coach take him out?

“Danny,” the coach called before he could dash out to the diamond.

Uh-oh, this is it, he thought. He’s giving me the bad news.

“Danny,” Coach Lattizori said, “you’re playing
Millie a little too deep. She hasn’t been hitting that strong, and I think you ought to come in on her a little. Now go out
there and do your stuff.”

That’s it? That’s all? The coach was keeping him in? Danny realized he’d been holding his breath. He let it out with a
whoosh.

As he went off to take his position on the field, he was filled with a new determination. Okay, I might not have done it at
bat, he said to himself, but they’re not getting anything by me on the field.

He lived up to his promise. For the rest of the game, he concentrated on every play. His fielding was top quality. At bat,
he walked once and got on base once. He even managed to score by outrunning a peg to home. It turned out to be the Bullets’
only run of the game.

The Jaguars made it onto the scoreboard as well — with a power-drive homerun hit from their number-one slugger, her red ponytail
streaming behind her as she ran across the plate.

The score was still tied, 1–1, at the bottom of the sixth. Tammy was on first when Drew Ferris, their hard-hitting catcher,
came up to bat.

The count was 2 and 2 when Drew found the pitch he wanted.

Crack!

The ball sailed high into the sky above center field. It looked like it was going all the way. Tammy took off from first.
Danny didn’t even want to see her as she started to round second toward the winning run.

But the ball dropped, hit the end of the center field fence, and bounced inside. Joel was on top of it in an instant. He threw
it wildly in the direction of the plate but only got it as far as the infield. Danny was the closest. He scooped it up, whirled
around, and as Tammy approached the plate, he pegged it home.

Larry grabbed it and twisted for the touch, but Tammy had just slid under him and scored.

The Jaguars had just won game three, 2–1. And that’s the way the series stood as well: 2–1 in their favor.

T
he morning after the third game, Joel swung by the Walker house right after breakfast. Danny was still sitting at the table
after everyone else had gone off. He was pushing a spoon around his cereal bowl and staring at the lines it made in the thin
film of milk at the bottom.

“Yo, slugger, how’s it going?” Joel asked.

“Slugger, hah!” Danny muttered.

Joel grabbed a chair, twisted it around, straddled it, and sat down.

“Yup, just what Dr. Joel figured. The patient is in a rotten mood. As part of the team that is now one down in a crucial series,
the patient is cracking up,” he said.

“Very funny, Joel,” said Danny. “Don’t start in on one of those Dr. Joel routines.”

The two boys had grown up in the same neighborhood and had known each other forever. All the Jackson kids went to the same
school as the Walkers, and they had started out playing in the same sandboxes. Danny and Joel had been best friends for years.

When they were in second grade, Joel had gotten a doctor kit as a Christmas present, and he took it very seriously. For a
while, Danny had gone along as his “patient” and let Joel wrap long strips of gauze around his head and slap bandages all
over his arms.

The doctor kit got put aside when Joel discovered other kinds of medicine. For the last year or so, he had decided that he
might become a psychiatrist. So now he walked around spouting words that he thought might come from a shrink.

Luckily he had a sense of humor about it. He didn’t mind when Danny and the others ribbed him about his doctoring. Joel could
take it as well as dish it out.

“Zo, Danny,” said Joel, putting on a fake accent, “if you don’t vant to come to ze doctor, zen ze doctor has to come to you.
My prescription for zis ailment of ze brain is fresh air and exercise.”

“Oh, great,” said Danny, laughing despite himself. “Very original. What would you have said if it’d been raining right now?”

Joel shook his head. “Vell, it isn’t, so don’t get smart viz ze doctor.” He grinned. “Get cleaned up and shake a leg. I’ve
got my bike outside. Let’s go for a ride over to the mall and see if the new
Dagger of Death
video is in. We can watch it later on — if it does rain. Or tonight after dinner. What do you say?”

“Might as well,” Danny answered.

“Come on,” said Joel. He pointed at the table. “Though first, you’d better clean up that mess you made. Hey, you weren’t just
—”

“No, I wasn’t crying over
spilled milk,
Doctor!” said Danny. He threw a dish towel at Joel and ran out the door.