Rounding Third (8 page)

At the game, even Rob’s stealing signs from
the other team’s coach didn’t help and the Hawks took their first loss of the
season. Taylor’s two errors at short hurt and Josh going 0-for-four and missing
a couple of plays at first didn’t help. Ordinarily, Josh would have been able
to grab Danny’s wild throws without pulling his foot off the bag.

As they walked from the field, Josh pulled
Rob aside. “I’m not going to shower here. I’m just going to grab my stuff and
go home. You want a ride?”

The way he said it, it was more like asking
Rob to take a ride than offering him one. As they pulled out of the lot, Rob
said, “Are you going to tell me?”

“My father caught me sneaking in last night.
I got a whipping.”

“Did he punch your face and body, too?”

“No,” Josh said, and Rob knew it was the
truth. “Sorry I can’t stay for hoops tonight; I have to get home and get ready
for church.”

“Okay, just please do me a favor and don’t
lie to me. If you don’t want to tell me or whatever, that’s fine, just don’t
lie.”

“Like about wrestling my brother?”

“Yeah.”

“We do wrestle, but he’d never hurt me. I
want you to know that.”

“Understood. And anytime you want to tell me,
I’ll listen. I won’t tell anyone. I’ve got no one to tell.”

*                     
*                     
*                     
*                     
*
   

After Saturday’s game and Josh’s third
victory on the mound, Josh did stick around for basketball at Rob’s, but it was
one-on-one. Meg was at a track meet and her parents were working. Rob was just
about to suggest Josh stay for dinner since his parents were going to work
through it, but Josh said. “I better get going. I have a date with Jenny. Our first
real date--we’ve just been hanging out at school.”

“Are you doubling with Brickman and
Brittany?”

“No.”

There was an awkward pause. Rob took the
moment to try to figure out why sometimes he felt so at ease with Josh, like he
could tell him anything--well almost anything--and now he felt like Josh was a
total stranger. For a brief moment he had thought he and Josh were on the same
page, now it felt like they were in different libraries.

“Hey,” Josh said suddenly. “I wanted to ask
you--we don’t have a game next Saturday and the Indians do. I’ve never been to
Progressive Field. You want to go?”

“Uh, sure.”

“Okay if my brother Mat goes with us? He’s
never been either.”

“Sure.” For a second he thought about asking if
he should bring Meg, then remembering Meg’s opinion of Mat, said nothing and
realized he wasn’t eager for Mat to come along either.

           
9

Tuesday as Josh pulled into the driveway he
said, “Up for a quick game?”

    
“Can’t. Today’s envelope day.”

    
“Envelope day?”

    
“April fourteenth. The day before tax day. Ever since I was a little kid we’ve
all gone to the office to help my dad. We stuff envelopes with tax returns,
seal them, weigh them, put postage on them and box them so he and my mom can
take them to the post office tomorrow. It makes for a pretty long evening, so
we send out for pizza and make a night of it. Kind of a warped family
tradition.”

    
“Sounds fun. Can I come?”

    
“Uh, if you want to.”

    
“I’ll have to call my mother and make sure it’s okay.”

           
*                     
*                     
*                     
*                     
*

“We brought reinforcements,” Rob announced as
they entered the office. “He volunteered to help.”

 “Hi, Josh,” Mrs. Wardell said. “What
happened to your face?” Then she turned to Rob and asked, “Is he the guy you
collided with?”

Josh gave Rob a puzzled look as Rob said,
“Yeah.”

“Thanks for coming,” she said, “The more
hands, the faster this will go.”

They quickly settled into checking, folding,
stapling stuffing, sealing and stamping.

“We should teach Josh the songs,” Marilyn
Wardell said.

“No!” both of her children protested.

“Songs?” Josh asked.

“Don’t ask,” Rob warned.

“Well, you can’t just throw that out then
leave it hanging,” Josh said.

All of the Wardells looked at Rob. He said,
“When we were little, we used to make up songs to pass the time. Stupid stuff.”

Meg went on, “Like to the tune of
Michael
Row Your Boat Ashore
we’d sing,
Bobby seal the envelopes, alleluia...”

“The later it got, the worse the verses got,
but the funnier we thought they were,” Mr. Wardell said, laughing.

“I suspect this didn’t end when the kids were
little,” Josh said, smiling.

“Mom, don’t,” Rob, begged.

But it was too late and his mother broke
into, “
On top of the tax forms, with IRS fees, I lost the address labels
when somebody sneezed...”

A couple of pizzas and several dozen bad
verses later, she reached for a form, but there were none left.

“Is that really it?” she asked. She and her
husband looked around but could find no more work.

“It’s only 8:30,” he said. He looked at Josh.
“We’re usually here until midnight. Of course the stack gest smaller every year
as we do more stuff online, but thanks. You were a big help.”

“It was fun.”

“You have to understand, Josh has a warped
view of fun,” Rob said.

“Thanks again,” Mr. Wardell said. “Bobby
tells me you guys are going to see the Indians on Saturday?”

“Yep, should be fun. I haven’t been to a game
since we moved here.”

“After all your help here tonight, the least
I can do is buy your ticket and give Bobby money to get you a hot dog and
Coke.”

“That’s not necessary, Mr. Wardell.”

“My pleasure. After the past few weeks of
long days and long nights, I can’t tell you what a treat it’s going to be to
get home and to bed before 1 a.m.”

Rob wondered why Josh could talk to his
father so easily. Why he couldn’t talk to his own father that way. He was
always afraid if he talked too much, he might say the wrong thing.

After Josh drove off, Mr. Wardell turned to
his wife and said, “We should adopt him.”

“We should,” Meg seconded.

“Or just work out a trade,” Rob suggested.
“Josh for Meg and a player to be named later.” Meg slugged him in the stomach.

“Maybe he can teach our kids to be
civilized,” Mrs. Wardell teased.

                       
*                     
*                     
*                     
*                     
*

    
Meg was right. Mathias Schlagel did look frightening. A scar gashed his face in
front of one ear. His mouth was in a permanent sneer caused by a scar that
pulled one corner up. That eye drooped down as though the mouth and eye were
trying to meet. Disfigurements aside, he looked like Josh, not quite as tall,
and with a little thicker build, but the same hair that was somewhere between
blond and brown and glistened when the light hit it. The same green eyes. But
with scars that could intimidate a biker gang. Rob wondered what sort of
accident he had been in. The life experience on his face made him appear older
than his baby-faced brother, Josh.

    
As they walked behind home plate, surveying the field, Mat said, “I have this
sudden urge to floss.”

    
“What?” Rob asked.

    
Mat pointed to the strange-looking light poles that surrounded the outfield.
“They look like giant toothbrushes.”

    
Josh asked Mat to take a photo of him and Rob in front of the Bob Feller
statue. Josh said, “He had three no-hitters. The guy was amazing.”

    
“It was easy for him,” Mat said. “He was fifteen feet tall.”

    
“The statue isn’t life-size,” Rob said.

    
“Oh,” Mat said with a wink.

    
“Don’t listen to him,” Josh smiled.

They had bought tickets on the 300 level, far
down the right field line, but by the third inning had made their way to some
empty seats ten rows behind the Indians dugout and from there watched the Tribe
trounce the Blue Jays 9-2. They were prime foul ball seats and the boys just
missed catching several that came their way--other than that, the day had been
pretty much perfect.

As they drove home Josh said, “Now the bad
news. My mother wants to meet you.”

    
“Oh shit,” Mat said.

    
“What’s wrong?” Rob looked around at Mat in the back seat.

    
“She never likes any of our friends, and then we’re not allowed to see them
anymore,” Mat answered.

    
Josh said, “Since I’ve been spending so much time at your house, she wants to
know who I’m hanging out with.”

    
“Why doesn’t she like them?”

    
“Any number of reasons.” Mat said. “They aren’t polite enough. They look like
they’d be a bad influence. They don’t get good enough grades. Pick one. Pick
all. Logic has nothing to do with why she dislikes people. She wouldn’t let us
watch
Mr. Rogers’ Neighborhood
‘cause he acted too faggy.”

    
“If she didn’t pick them from our church,” Josh added, “They basically aren’t
good enough. Comments like Meg made the other day about your family not going
to church--that would be the end of it right then.”

    
Rob looked at Josh. “So I’ve already failed the test?”

    
“Pretty much,” Mat said. “No offense, Rob, but I’d give you an F right now and
save you the trip to planet Schlagel.”

    
“When is this test supposed to happen?”

    
“She told me to have you stop by after the game on Monday.”

    
As good as the day had been going, there had to be something to spoil it. After
the Schlagel brothers dropped him off, Rob was prepared to spend the evening
sulking and working on his term paper when Meg came into the sewing room.

    
“How was the game?” she asked.

    
“Great. We had a great time. Mat is cool. A lot like Josh. You’ve never talked
to him?”

    
“Nope. He sort of scares me.”

    
“No reason he should. Nice guy. He’s even funnier than Josh. You should say hi
next time you see him at school.”

    
“When are you going to upload the pics you took of me and Josh? Ash doesn’t
believe he’s been hanging out here. She said that Josh...well never mind what
she said. Can you do that tonight so I can email her some tomorrow? And print
out the best one? For my locker.”

    
“I guess my term paper can wait. I’ll get my camera.” He stood up and started
toward the door.

She hit him in the stomach. “Thanks.”

“But you have to do me a favor. I want to
look through your jewelry box.”

    
           
*                     
*                     
*                     
*                     
*
   

    
Rob found himself staring at each photo of Josh before he saved it to the computer’s
hard drive and wondering if Josh’s Mom would say Josh couldn’t hang out with
him anymore.

    
A thousand sit-ups in the middle of the night did nothing to answer that
question. As he did farm work on Sunday he wondered how Josh’s Sunday afternoon
of miniature golf with Jenny was going.

                                               
10

On Monday, Josh retired the first nine
batters from South Catholic High in order before giving up the first hit.

Rob was stealing the catcher’s signs and
signaling his teammates. After debating whether to tell Taylor and Brickman the
real signs of what pitch was coming, Rob had resolved to help them since their
bats could win Josh a close game.

    
When Josh batted, the catcher flashed a sign Rob hadn’t seen before, so Josh
stepped out of the batter’s box and looked at the dugout. Rob shrugged. Josh
furrowed his brow then stepped back in. The pitch was a fastball--aimed right
at Josh’s head. Josh fell backwards into the dirt to avoid the ball. Rob winced
and held his breath until Josh got back up. Josh dusted himself off and stepped
in again. The catcher flashed the same sign. “Watch yourself, J.L!” Rob yelled
choosing Josh’s initials since Josh’s first name, last name, and number were
all part of their standard code. Josh got the hint; his eyes widened and he
inhaled deeply.