Bases Loaded (3 page)

“Okay, listen up, guys.” David spoke in a low voice as if the substitute were standing nearby. “Everyone has to choose someone to switch names with for next week. I'm going to be you,” he said, pointing to Matt Lindenheimer.

“Matt?” I said without thinking. “How can you be him? He's so smart!” A hush fell over our little group. Graham elbowed me in the ribs, and every kid turned to me.

“What's that supposed to mean, dork? Are you saying I'm not smart enough to pass for Matt?” David pulled his arm back, ready to slug me.

“No, no,” I said, trying to think fast. “That's not what I meant at all. I was just . . . um . . . thinking that . . . maybe you and I could switch names. Yeah, that's it—you and I should switch.”

David lowered his arm and started laughing. “Right,” he said. “I'm sure you'd love to be me for a week, but I don't want some wimpy dork running around with my name.” I looked over at Matt Lindenheimer, who seemed at least as wimpy and dorky as me, if not more. He was smiling, like he was proud that David wanted to be him. Just then the bell rang, breaking up our meeting.

We all ran to class thinking of the fun we were going to have next week. After school Graham and I talked about it all the way home.

“This is going to be so great!” Graham said. “A whole week with a substitute. I almost feel sorry for whoever it's going to be.”

“Yeah, but I guess that's what being a sub is all about,” I said. “They have to know that the kids are going to do crazy things and try to get away with stuff. What do they care anyway? Once they're done, they just get to leave. They aren't really responsible for us learning anything. They're kind of like babysitters. Hey, how about switching names and seats with me?”

“Thanks, but no thanks. I'm going to switch with Brian. His desk is right next to Kelly's. This is my chance to sit by her for a whole week straight,” Graham said. “I can't miss out on that.”

“Yeah, I guess not. So do you want to hang out and shoot some hoops?”

“Not today,” Graham answered. “I'm going to ask my mom if she'll take me to get my hair cut for the school pictures. I'm going to give Kelly one of my pictures, and I want to look my best.”

“You're going to give Kelly a picture of you?” I asked.

“Of course. I always do,” he said. “Look, I even have one of her in my wallet.”

“You have a wallet?” I asked. I'd known Graham forever, and I'd never seen his wallet.

“Sure, where do you think I keep all my money?” Graham answered. He pulled out a thin wallet and opened it up. The place where money should have been was empty. In fact, there was nothing in there at all except an old, scratched-up picture of Kelly.

“Whoa, how old is this?” I said, grabbing the picture. “She looks like a first-grader. She's even missing one of her front teeth.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Graham said, grabbing the photo and sliding it back into its slot in the empty wallet. “I'm going to ask her for a new one this year. You should get one from Heidi.”

We spent the rest of the walk home talking about wallets and pictures. I decided I was going to look my best for this picture too. You know, just in case I got brave enough to ask Heidi for a picture or in case she wanted one from me. That would be cool.

THE NEXT DAY,
I woke up excited for baseball. I love the weekday games. I don't know why, I just do. Maybe it's because I would be at home doing homework if I didn't have a game. And today I was ready to play the Tigers. Coach Parker had told me I would be pitching, and I just knew I would get some great hits too. My whole family was coming, even Gramps. I decided that it would be fun to have Heidi and Diane there. For some reason, I felt like everything was going to be great. I got dressed, ate breakfast, gave my mom a hug, and ran down to Graham's house to walk to school. We talked about the game the whole way.

“I think this is the day I hit a home run,
hermano
,” I said. “I am feeling lucky today!”

“Me too,” Graham said, swinging an invisible bat and watching the invisible ball sail away for a grand slam. “Okay, Raymond,” he continued. “When I'm catching today and give you two fingers for my signal, it means throw a fastball. Three fingers means a slider, and this means a curveball.” He moved his finger in a circular motion.

“All right,” I answered. “But all of my pitches are kind of the same. I think they're fastballs.”

“Okay, then what if I always give you the sign for fastball? If I give you something else, like a curveball sign, just shake your head until I give you the right sign,” Graham said.

“Yeah, that'll work.”

We spent the rest of our walk guessing what the score at our game would be. I thought it would be 8-2 for us. Graham thought it would be more like 12-3. Either way, we knew it would be a great game.

School was slow and boring. I just wanted it to be over. The only fun part was recess. We all gathered together to go over the plan for next week. This time it was almost our entire class. Even Lizzy was there. The plan was set: we would all change seats and names, we would tell the substitute that every Tuesday and Thursday we get an extra fifteen minutes of recess if we're good, and we would say that we have a class party on Friday that's been planned for months. It was going to be great.

Even better, David was actually talking to me without hitting me or making fun of me. Don't get me wrong—it's not like he was inviting me over to his house after school to hang out. But sometimes during class, he would lean over and talk to me about the plan for next week. Maybe this whole substitute teacher thing would finally help me and David become friends. Or at least make him stop being so mean to me.

After recess, I kept looking at Lizzy, thinking that maybe she was just going along with the plan so she could tell on us—you know, like a spy. I watched her closely, waiting for her to walk up to Mrs. Gibson's desk and spill the beans on the whole thing just to get a few brownie points. But surprisingly enough, she didn't say a word. This was truly going to be the best week ever.

After school I ran home and got into my baseball uniform. The Giants had blue jerseys with GIANTS written on the front in big white letters and white baseball pants. I was using the same pants from last year, and they still had a big round stain on the back where I'd sat on the wad of gum. We got most of it off, but the circle was still there. There were also a couple of nacho cheese stains on the sides where I'd wiped my hands.

I went to the kitchen to get a glass of milk. There's something about drinking milk that makes me feel stronger. Geri already had the milk carton out.

“Hey, save some of that for me,” I said. She filled her glass halfway, paused, then filled it up the rest of the way, using every last drop from the carton.

“Come on, I need that. I've got a game tonight.”

“Ooh, is it your magic potion?” Geri laughed. “Does it turn you into Super Dork?”

“Mom!” I screamed.

“I'm right here, sweetie. What do you need?” She walked into the kitchen.

“Geri won't share the milk. And she called me Super Dork.”

“Oh, I'm sure she just meant to say that you are super,” Mom answered. I could tell she wanted to ignore the fight.

“That's right.” Geri smirked. “You're just super, Raymond.” Then she walked out of the room.

Graham and I rode our bikes to the field about an hour early to play catch. After a while, the rest of our team started showing up. Once Coach Parker got there, we ran a lap around the field, got into our positions, and warmed up. Coach always ran with us. We'd try to catch him, but he was always too fast for us. We practiced for a while and then let the Tigers use the field.

“Hey, Mom,” I called, running out of the dugout. My mom, dad, sister, and grandpa were walking up the sidewalk toward the field. “Can I have some money for a drink?” I pointed to the snack bar that was just opening up.

“Sure, sweetie,” she said, reaching into her purse.

“Hold on, partner, I've got you covered,” Gramps interrupted, stepping in front of my mom. He dug into his pocket for some money. “Here you go, slugger,” he said, pulling out a whole handful of stuff. He opened his big, wrinkly hand and sorted through rubber bands, string, crumpled paper, keys, and pocket fuzz to find the money.

“Whoa, Gramps, what
don't
you keep in your pocket?” Dad said. “You don't have Grandma in that pile somewhere, do you?”

Gramps was too busy going through the handful of stuff to answer. Somehow he was able to find about two dollars in coins. I put my hands together, and Gramps dropped the money into them. I also got some of the pocket fuzz.

“Thanks, Gramps.” I ran over to the snack bar and was the first in line.

Luke's mom was working at the snack bar. Luke is in our class at school, and he's on the Giants. His mom was always a little grumpy. One time last season, I bought some nachos and she would only give me one napkin. I tried to take more, but she grabbed them right out of my hand and stuffed them back into the metal napkin holder.

“Just one napkin, please. They cost money, you know,” she said.

“I thought they were free,” I answered, trying to reach for another. She grabbed the napkin holder and took it away before I could get more.

“They may be free to you, but someone has to pay for them,” she said, not giving in. I stood there for a minute or two waiting for her to put the napkins back, but she never did. Finally I just walked away. Have you ever tried to eat nachos with only one napkin? It's impossible. You need at least three: one for each hand and one for your face. And that's only if you are really careful. That's where the nacho cheese stains on the sides of my pants came from.

So today I was playing it safe. “One Gatorade, please,” I said.

“What flavor?” Luke's mom answered. She rolled her eyes and recited all six flavors in about two seconds.

“How about the bright yellow?” I said happily. I love yellow Gatorade.

“Bright yellow isn't a flavor, it's a color,” she said with a sour look. But obviously she knew what I was talking about, because she set the bright yellow Gatorade down right in front of me. “That's a dollar fifty,” she said. I dumped the pile of coins and fuzz onto the counter, separated the dollar fifty, and slid it toward her. As she counted my money I looked around to see if Heidi and Diane had shown up yet, but there was no sign of them. I grabbed my Gatorade and gathered up the extra coins. I left a big piece of fuzz on the counter. “There's your tip.” I laughed quietly to myself as I walked away. I thought it was pretty funny.

It was time to start the game. I ran back to the dugout, grabbed my glove, and hurried out to the pitcher's mound. After about ten practice pitches, I was ready and the game began. Graham was playing catcher as usual.

“Play ball!”
the umpire called out. The batter stepped up to the plate, and Graham immediately started in on him.

“Come on, Raymond,” Graham yelled. “This guy stinks. He can't hit.” Then he gave me the sign for a fastball.

I wound up and threw the ball as fast as I could.

“Strike one!” the ump yelled. The batter didn't even swing.

“He's scared of you, Raymond. Give him another strike, he's too scared to swing,” Graham yelled again, laughing.

The second ball was high and outside, but the batter swung.

“Strike two! The count is 0 and 2,” the ump said, holding up a fist on one hand and two fingers on the other.

“Sorry, batter,” Graham said. “Does it bother you when I talk? I won't say a word this time, and we'll see if you can hit. Okay, everyone be really quiet so number eight can concentrate on the ball.” The batter looked completely frustrated. Graham really knew how to make the batters crazy.

The batter swung as hard as he could at the last pitch.

“Strike three, batter's out,” the ump shouted. Our fans cheered. Carlos's dad yelled something in Spanish. I assumed he was cheering. Grandpa followed by screaming
“Muy bien!”
and then high-fived Carlos's dad.

“Time-out,” Graham said to the ump. He got up and headed toward the pitcher's mound.

“Graham, what are you doing? I'm throwing great,” I said.

“I just wanted to ask if you've seen the girls.” He glanced over toward our fans on the small, wooden bleachers. “Kelly said she would be here.”

“I haven't seen them. But who cares? We're having a great game,” I said.