Baseball Great (17 page)

A VOICE WAILED INSIDE
of Josh, a voice crying out that he should have called the police. If he had, someone might be on the way at that very moment. But he hadn't called, and he couldn't now, and even if he did, it would be too late. He needed something big. Something spectacular.

The idea came to him, and he turned without worrying whether Rocky heard him, sprinting down the hallway, back toward the entrance. When he reached the place where the bathroom was, Josh splayed his fingers and groped along the wall, up and down, side to side, feeling.

At the other end of the hallway, the pounding stopped. Josh heard Rocky climbing through the hole he'd beaten through the door. Then Josh's fingers found what he'd been looking for: the fire alarm.

His fingers gripped the handle and he yanked it down.

Alarm bells shattered his eardrums and safety lights flooded the hallway. Rocky burst from the newspaper office like a bull breaking free from a rodeo chute. Dust and splinters of wood flew into the hallway. Instinctively, Josh ducked into the shadows of the bathroom alcove.

Rocky charged past, running full speed with the metal baseball bat in one hand and with what had to be Jaden's cell phone in the other. He disappeared, and Josh heard the side door smash open as Rocky sprang free into the night.

Josh took off after him without even thinking. He wanted to get outside and call the police. If Benji stopped the car, Rocky wouldn't be able to get away. When Josh reached the entrance he saw Benji standing in the parking lot where he'd left him with the bikes. The Porsche's engine raced. Tires squealed as Rocky shot forward without a hitch. The car rocketed past Josh in a swirl of grit and dust and exhaust.

“Benji!” Josh screamed, clenching both hands and teeth.

Benji held his hands up in the air and flashed Josh a silly smile.

“Jaden,” Josh said, suddenly remembering her.

He darted back into the school and down the hallway
toward the newspaper office. He coughed at the dust and peered into the old classroom through the huge, jagged hole in the door with his hands over his ears to protect them from the endless clang of the fire bells. A beam of light fell into the room, and Josh saw the tangle of desks Jaden had jammed between the door and the far wall, making it impossible for anyone to get in without smashing a hole in the door.

“Jaden,” Josh said, calling her name loudly above the sound of the alarm, his voice laced with panic. “Are you okay?”

Josh saw her dark shape propped up against the leg of the table where the power switch of the printing machine winked at him. He saw movement. If she spoke, he didn't hear her. Her body shook and heaved, and he knew she was silently crying.

“What's wrong?” he shouted, his fright turning to dread. “What happened?”

“ARE YOU HURT?” JOSH
said, climbing through the hole, sliding off a desk, and crouching beside her.

Josh put a hand on her shoulder and felt the tremors pass through her. He asked her again and she shook her head, sniffing.

“I gave it to him,” she said. He could barely hear the words, but the movement of her lips was clear.

“That's okay,” Josh said, hugging her. “It doesn't matter. We tried.”

Josh helped her up and through the hole. They both held their ears as they hurried down the hallway for the exit. They dashed out of the school and froze at the sight of flashing lights. Out on the street, two fire trucks and a police car shone their headlights on a car accident, where smoke and flames danced amid a heap of wreckage at the base of the big light pole on
the far side of the boulevard.

Jaden took Josh's hand and they crossed the parking lot, hypnotized by the sight. When they reached Benji, he slapped his hands together as though dusting them off.

“You sounded mad at me, dude,” Benji said, patting Josh on the back.

“What happened?” Josh asked.

“You thought he got away,” Benji said. “I heard it in your voice. Dude, you were so mad at me, but why waste a good bike? Besides, he could have run it over, and unless it got jammed up in the undercarriage, he'd just keep going.”

“What happened?” Jaden asked.

The three of them walked toward the flames as the firefighters scrambled with their hose.

Benji held up a ballpoint pen and said, “The pen really
is
mightier than the sword.”

“Meathead,” Josh said, “what
happened
?”

Benji shrugged and said, “You can't make a turn like that without air in your tires.”

“You punctured his tires?” Josh asked, raising his voice above the sound of more sirens heading their way.

“I let the air out,” Benji said, grinning widely as they crossed the grass. “You said stop him, and I thought, ‘He ain't going anywhere with four flats.'”

They could now see Rocky sitting in the middle of the street, propped up against the front tire of the police car with his head back and his eyes closed.

“Is he okay?” Josh asked the cop who stood by the back of the patrol car, talking on his cell phone.

“Him?” the cop said. “Yeah. Broke his leg, but nothing fatal. Ambulance is on its way. Hey, do you kids know anything about that fire alarm?”

Another fire truck, sirens wailing, turned off the boulevard and into the school drive.

“You kids shut up!”

They all turned and looked. Rocky glared at them, pointing a thick finger.

“You keep quiet if you know what's good for you. My lawyer will be here to straighten this all out,” Rocky said.

“Settle down,” the cop said, angling his head toward another cop who had walked over to Rocky.

The first cop herded the three of them over onto the sidewalk, away from the burning Porsche and the broken coach.

“What's he talking about?” the cop asked. “What's going on here?”

“Dude,” Benji said to the cop, “I don't know nothing.”

Josh and Jaden looked at each other. If they told, it would put an end to Rocky. If they didn't, maybe a good lawyer could sort the whole thing out and both their fathers would be safe.

“What should we do?” Josh asked Jaden.

She closed her eyes, then opened her mouth to speak.

THE POLICE LET THE
three of them sit together in a small conference room just off the detectives' squad room, a big, open space full of desks with plainclothes police answering phones and checking their guns before they hurried off. Josh sat at the head of the table with Jaden on one side next to him and Benji on the other. After the patrolmen had questioned them, several detectives came and went, as well as a lieutenant in uniform. One detective, named Fraher, who wore a tweed blazer and tan pants, seemed to be in charge. He had salt-and-pepper hair, rimless glasses, and a red face that changed from cheerful to grim from one moment to the next.

It was late, and Josh, Jaden, and Benji had stopped whispering among themselves. They had moved beyond the fear of what would happen for the crimes they'd committed. Exhaustion weighed them down.

But when Detective Fraher led their parents through the doorway, Josh felt a new surge of anxiety. His sweat glands began to pump, and his mouth dried up in an instant. His father looked enormous as he pushed through the doorway, wearing a dark look beneath his heavy, scowling eyebrows. Josh couldn't read the flat line of his mother's mouth cutting across the width of her pale face. Jaden's father blinked from behind his glasses, looking frightened.

After they all sat down, Detective Fraher placed a cell phone in the middle of the table. Josh and Jaden stared at it.

“That your cell phone?” Fraher asked.

Jaden nodded.

Fraher scooped it up and punched some keys before holding it up and flashing it around the table for everyone to see.

“That the picture?” Fraher asked.

Josh looked from the photo of Dr. Neidermeyer with Rocky to Jaden. She clamped her lips and nodded.

“So,” Fraher said, snapping the phone shut and addressing the parents, “you see what they did. We found the drugs and this same bag in Rocky's trunk.”

Two uniformed cops came in and stood behind Dr. Neidermeyer, and he stood up between them, still facing Jaden.

Jaden looked up at him, her eyes swimming in tears, and said, “I'm sorry, Dad.”

DR. NEIDERMEYER'S FACE WRINKLED
in confusion and he asked, “Why are you sad?”

Jaden shook her head, looking down at her hands, and said, “I was so mad at you for doing this, but now I wish I'd let it be.”

“Jaden,” Dr. Neidermeyer said, “I taught you to always do the right thing, even if it hurts.”

“But you'll go to jail!” she cried.

Dr. Neidermeyer smiled bitterly and shook his head. “Jaden, you don't think I had anything to do with this, do you?”

Jaden's head shot up. She wiped her face and said, “What?”

“You don't think I—” Dr. Neidermeyer said, looking from one police officer to another, scowling. “No, you're wrong, honey. I'm going with them to help. I delivered
packages to Rocky Valentine because another doctor asked me to. He knew I always went home through the loading dock, and he started his shift when I ended mine. He's the one who took them. They'll have him on video with it.”

Dr. Neidermeyer added, “I thought I was delivering day-old sandwiches from the cafeteria to a homeless guy too ashamed to come out of the shadows. Me give kids steroids?”

Dr. Neidermeyer grimaced, shook his head again, and said, “No, I'm fine, but the doctor doing this isn't going to be. I'm sorry for that, but that was his choice.”

“It's true,” Detective Fraher said to Jaden.

Jaden shot up out of her chair and ran to her father, hugging him tight. Dr. Neidermeyer blushed and stroked the back of her head.

“You don't think I'm involved with this either, do you, Josh?” his father asked, pointing to his own thick chest.

Josh hung his head and said, “No, not involved, but you knew, right?”

“Josh,” his father said in a low rumble, “how could you think that?”

Josh shrugged, looked up at his parents, and said, “All that stuff about being great and doing whatever you have to do.”

Josh's father pushed back his chair and came toward
him, lifting him out of his chair and squeezing him.

“No, Son,” his father said. “Not that. Never that.”

His mother moved close and put her hand on Josh's head.

“Well,” Fraher said, looking at Benji, “are you going to give me your number now so we can call your parents, or are you still insisting on a lawyer?”

“A lawyer?” Josh's dad said, letting go of Josh and staring down at Benji.

Benji looked up at them, shrugging and raising his hands, and said, “Hey, I saw it on TV.”

Josh's father shook his head, snorted, and said to Detective Fraher, “If it's okay with you, we can take him home, Detective.”

“I sure don't want him here overnight,” Fraher said, getting up from the table and putting Jaden's cell phone into his briefcase before closing it. “I've still got work to do.”

“Dad?” Josh asked. “Does this ruin everything? With your job and the Titans and all that?”

His father looked at him, smiled, and said, “You didn't take any of that stuff, did you?”

“No, Dad,” Josh said.

“Good,” his father said, gripping Josh's shoulder. “If you're healthy and well, then nothing's ruined. It's all good. No, actually, it's great.”

TWO MONTHS LATER
…

The smell of cooking hot dogs floated on the warm summer air. Above, only the wisps of clouds and a hot yellow sun painted the sky's blue field. Josh left the on-deck circle and glanced up at the scoreboard. They were down one run in the bottom of the last inning with two outs.

Word on the other team's relief pitcher was that his dad had pitched for the Cuban national team that won a gold medal in the 1992 Olympics. People said his fastball had more heat than any other U12 player's in the entire country, and he stood a good inch taller than Josh—just over six feet. The only person to get on base since he'd taken the mound was Esch, who'd been hit by a pitch and had to be helped to first base.

Benji passed Josh on his way back to the dugout, his
head hanging after having just struck out.

“It's okay, buddy,” Josh said. “I'll get him.”

Benji looked up, grinned, and punched him softly in the shoulder. “He was afraid to throw that heat at me, so look for his curveball and watch out for the changeup. He might have gotten the word on both of us—heavy hitters and all.”

Josh winked at him and approached the plate.

More people than he'd ever seen filled the stands for the finals of the tournament in the stadium just outside Tampa. The winner would have the chance to play in the Junior Olympics. Up in the seats behind the backstop, Josh waved to his mom and Jaden, who clenched her teeth and held her pen and notebook ready, then he turned his attention to the pitcher and stepped into the box.

Esch cheered him from first base.

From the dugout, his father yelled, “Swing big, buddy!”

Josh wagged his bat, feeling it, and glued his eyes on the pitcher. The spin on the ball said curve, headed low and inside. Josh let it pass.

“Ball!” the umpire cried.

Josh hefted his bat, finding its groove, and readied himself. The pitcher wound up. The ball flew from his hand, laces spinning in a backward blur Josh knew meant heat, right down the middle.

Josh cocked his hips that extra inch and swung big
with all he had.

CRACK.

Josh didn't even hurry. He straightened up and jogged down the first-base line, dumping his bat in the grass and watching the ball sail a good fifty feet over the center-field fence. The crowd went crazy. The dugout went crazier. Esch waited for him at home plate along with the rest of the team to carry him around.

Finally they put him down. The two teams shook hands, and the players mixed with the parents and friends who'd spilled out onto the field. Josh saw Jaden and his mom heading his way, grinning. He gave them a thumbs-up and turned away. He found his dad, alone in the dugout, stuffing equipment into the bag. Josh cleared his throat, and his dad looked up and smiled.

“Congratulations, Dad,” Josh said. “I mean, Coach.”

“That's what I was going to say,” a man's voice said from behind him.

Josh spun around. An athletic young man with short blond hair and wearing a black Nike sweat suit stepped forward to shake Josh's dad's hand.

“I'm Mitch Major, Nike's youth baseball rep. I think I might have met you.”

Josh's dad's face clouded over and his eyebrows dipped.

“You mean with Rocky Valentine?” Josh's dad asked, his voice a rumble. “I've got nothing to do with him, or
all that trouble.”

“No,” Major said, waving his hand, “forget about that. He's on his way to jail, right?”

Josh's dad nodded.

“I want to talk about
you
,” Major said, “and your team. This is your son, right?”

Josh nodded at Major.

“He's got some bat,” Major said, glancing at Josh. “We want to sign up your team. Sponsor the whole thing. The full package, just like we were going to do with Rocky. Coach's salary, all that. What do you think?”

The hard expression on Josh's dad's face melted away and he said, “I think, great.”

“And we've got a special program we're starting that I want to get Josh here involved with,” Major said. “The way he just stepped up, cool as a carrot under pressure, and knocked that pitch out of the park? I loved that. I want to sign him up, individually.”

“What do you mean?” Josh's dad asked, his face darkening again. “He plays for us.”

“No, not take him away,” Major said. “Just sponsor him. It's a new program. We try to take kids we see from around the country and pay them to be in our ads and give them a bunch of free Nike stuff. Your team will have the stuff anyway. But, hey, they pay pretty good for these ads, and it'll help with college expenses. Even a full scholarship won't cover everything. A kid
needs pocket money.”

Jaden and Josh's mom appeared at the dugout entrance and his mom said, “College is where he's headed.”

Major nodded at her.

“Why do you want
me
in an ad?” Josh asked.

Major laughed at him and said, “Kid, you're more than good. Thing is, what we're trying to find is the next generation, before they're even off the ground. Remember what we did with Tiger Woods? Signed him up before he ever won a dollar. We're gonna do the same thing with baseball.”

“And Nike, you, think I'll be
that
good?” Josh asked.

“Kid,” Major said, shaking Josh's hand, “from what I've seen, you're on your way to being a baseball great.”