High Heat (28 page)

She was right. Within five minutes there was a knock. When I went downstairs, Coach Dravus was standing in the front room. "That was quite a game you pitched today," he said. "Lots of pressure, and you didn't back down. That last fastball was ninety-one miles an hour. Did you know that?"

"No," I said. "I didn't."

"I'm not going to beat around the bush, Shane. I'd like you to come to the University of Portland next year and pitch for us. I'm offering you a full scholarship."

Marian clapped her hands together. My mother smiled broadly.

"Would you like me to go over anything again before you decide?" Dravus asked.

I shook my head. "Not really. Can I just say yes?"

He laughed. "Yes, you can."

After that he took out a bunch of paperwork and went over it in the kitchen with Mom. I sat with them, looking at whatever he handed me, reading the rules and regulations that go along with a scholarship, or at least pretending to.

After a few minutes, the telephone rang. "I'll get it," I said, glad to have an excuse to get away.

It was Benny Gold. "Grandison just called me. He's got the back room at Zeek's reserved for us. A celebration, he said. What do you say?"

"I don't know if I can," I said. "Let me check."

I put my hand over the receiver and asked Mom. She turned to Coach Dravus. "Does Shane need to be here?"

He shook his head. "I think Shane should be with his teammates tonight."

I took my hand away from the receiver. "Yeah, Benny, I can come."

"Great. I'll pick you up in about five minutes. You're right on the way for me."

As I started upstairs to get my jacket, Mom came out of the kitchen. "Shane," she said, her voice low so that Coach Dravus couldn't hear. "Is something wrong?"

"No. Everything's fine."

She looked at me, unsure. "You don't seem very happy."

"I'm happy. Really, I am. I'm just in a state of shock."

"You want this, don't you?"

"Yes. Definitely."

Benny's car pulled up a few minutes later. By the time we reached Zeek's, half of the team was already there. As soon as we walked in, we heard our names hollered from all around. The same happened whenever anybody new entered.

Grandison was way in the back. He had a huge slice of pizza in his hand, and he held it up to us and pointed to a table that had six different pizzas spread across it. I worked my way back to the food, loaded up my plate, then sat down in a booth near a table where Miguel and Pedro and three
other guys were talking. Benny sat right across from me, which surprised me. Benny and I got along okay, but we'd never hung out together.

I ate a little, but mainly I listened to Miguel and the other guys. Their voices were loud, excited. All of the talk was about our season. "Remember that triple Kim hit against Bellarmine?...How about the catch McDermott made against Marysville? The one in foul territory.... That catch was great, but what about..." In the next hour, every key play in the season was relived.

I listened and smiled. If somebody asked me something, I answered. A couple of times I thought about telling everybody about the scholarship, but I didn't. I was glad Benny was sitting across from me. He was always a quiet guy, never saying much, never asking anything, and that suited me just fine.

At eleven Grandison tapped a spoon against his glass, then gave a speech full of the normal stuff. When he finished, everybody cheered. A couple of minutes later, Grandison left. Once he was gone, the guys started leaving too. At eleven-thirty Miguel reached over and shook my shoulder. "See you Monday," he said. A minute later, his table was empty.

The McDermott brothers were playing video games toward the front. Lind, Fletcher, and Crandle crowded around them, waiting for a turn. Only Benny and I remained in the back. For the first time all evening, it was quiet. Benny took a sip of his Coke, then looked at me. "It didn't feel right, did it?"

My stomach knotted. "What are you talking about?"

"Come on, Shane," he said, his voice soft. "You know what I'm talking about. I was the catcher, remember? He went
down right in front of me. I can still hear the ball hitting him in the head. I can still see him lying on the ground, the blood pouring from his nose. And to win tonight by striking him out like that..."

He leaned forward, his voice still not much above a whisper. "You know what I was hoping when he stepped up to the plate? I was hoping he'd be the player he used to be. Imagine how incredible that would have been. You against him, with everything on the line. Even if he'd hit a home run and we'd lost, that still would have been something. You know what I mean?"

"Yeah," I said. "I know exactly what you mean." And I did.

The lights in the restaurant flicked on and off a few times. "That's it, boys," a voice called out. "We're closing."

We walked out to the parking lot and got into his car. Neither of us spoke as we drove up Greenwood, but at a red light Benny looked over. "Do you know where we play on Wednesday?"

"The rest of the playoffs are at UW."

"I've never played there. I hear it's great."

"That's what I've heard, too."

"And your arm's okay? Because we're going to need you."

"Don't worry about me, Benny. Whatever comes, I'll be ready."

We were silent the rest of the way to my house. He pulled into my driveway, and I got out. "Thanks for the ride," I said.

But before I could close the car door, Benny leaned across the seat toward me. "He could still come back, don't you think? If he works at it. Look at you. You struggled. You couldn't throw
strikes; you couldn't throw hard. But you worked at it, and you made it back. You're the same player you were before you hit him. Right?"

I swallowed. "Yeah, Benny," I said. "I'm the same."

He nodded. I closed the car door and stood on the lawn as he backed out of the driveway and drove off into the night. Only then did I head up the walk to my home.

I hadn't lied to Benny. What I'd said was true. I was the same. Only I was different, too. Entirely different.