Baseball Flyhawk (3 page)

“Chico!” yelled the first-base coach. “Play it safe! Watch that throw-in!”

The left fielder pegged the ball in to second. A perfect throw!

Chico, two thirds of the way to second, came to a sudden stop.
What have I done?
he thought. The second baseman ran Chico back, then tossed the ball to the first baseman. Chico was caught in a hot box.

Back and forth the first and second basemen passed the ball, trapping Chico. Then suddenly the first baseman’s peg went wild!
The ball hit the ground and bounced to the right of the bag. Chico raced to the keystone sack. Safe!

“Wow!” murmured Chico. He bent forward and rested his hands on his knees.
That
was sure close!

Meanwhile, Kenny had breezed into home, tying the score at 2 to 2.

Dale was up next. He popped out. Two outs. Then Don socked one over second. It was just out of reach of the second baseman,
and Chico scored as the Royals fans cheered and applauded. His run pulled the Royals ahead, 3 to 2.

The team’s last chance at bat came to an end when Ray Ward struck out.

“Hold them!” yelled the Royals fans. “Hold them!”

“Three men to get, Don!” yelled String. “Just three!”

Don’s hook fanned the first batter. The next hitter clouted one over short, a clean hit. The batter slid in to second safely
for a double.

String called time. He went to the mound and talked with Don. Then he returned to first. Time in was called.

Don stepped on the rubber and delivered. A hot one-bouncer came right back at him! Don caught it and tossed it to first. Two
away.

One more to get!

A right-hander stepped to the plate. Don pitched.
Crack!
A long drive to left field. Chico started back, then turned and watched the white pill come down from the sky.

Suddenly it was lost in the blinding sun! For an instant Chico had a glimpse of it again. He put out his hand.
Whoosh!
The ball struck the glove’s little finger, hit the ground, and bounced past him.

Chico ran after it, picked it up, and pegged it in. The throw was too late. The hitter was running home from third. He crossed
the plate before the ball reached Dale.

The game was over. The Colts were the winners, 4 to 3.

“How did you miss it?” stormed String, his face twisted. “You should have caught it easily!”

“It was the sun,” murmured Chico lamely. “I lost it in the sun.”

String just shook his head and walked away in disgust.

F
our days after the loss to the Colts, the Royals were on the field again, this time playing against the Lions. The stands
were full of fans, including Mr. and Mrs. Romez and many other players’ parents who weren’t usually at the games. It was the
Fourth of July, which meant most people had the day off from work. A brass band played in the park, adding an air of festivity
as both teams warmed up before the game.

A few minutes before the game started, both teams walked out to the field. The Lions stood along the third-base line and the
Royals along the first-base line. In front of them, standing near the mound, were the coaches of both teams. They all faced
center field.

Chico was about to ask Buddy what was going on when the brass band began to play “The Star-Spangled Banner.” The coaches and
the players took off their caps and held them against their chests. A flag was slowly raised up a pole behind the center field
fence.

Chico watched it while the music filled the park. He wasn’t sure of all the words to the national anthem. But there was something
about the song and the flag raising that made a lump appear in his throat.

When the ceremony was over, Chico cheered with the rest of the team and ran back to the dugout. But his good mood was shattered
when he caught a glaring look from String. As a matter of fact, he wasn’t
sure anybody on the team, except Buddy, gave him a glad-to-see-you look. He worried that they were still holding him responsible
for the loss on Thursday. That he had lost the ball in the sun was no excuse.

As he was picking up his glove, he heard Dutch ask String if he was going over to the pool after the game.

“Nah,” String replied. “Swimming and diving are for sissies.” He glanced over at Chico and smirked.

Chico felt his face flush. He was about to turn away when Buddy piped up. “Well, I’m going. I can’t imagine spending the Fourth
of July anywhere else but poolside. Hey, Chico, don’t forget, you promised you’d show me how to do that back dive today!”

Chico knew he had never made any such promise. But there was nothing he would have rather done today than swim with Buddy.
“You bet!” Chico replied.
And
thanks for sticking up for me,
he added silently.

The game started. The Royals took the field first, with the lineup the same as last time. Only today, southpaw Frankie Darsi
was on the mound.

Frankie blazed the ball in overhand and had no trouble getting the Lions out that first inning.

The Royals came up and scored two runs. In the third they scored three more to put them in the lead, 5 to 0.

“We’d better take this game,” muttered String in the dugout, loud enough for everybody to hear. “We can’t give it away now.”

Chico felt that String intended those words especially for him.

In the top of the fourth, the Lions threatened to put across some runs. Two hits in a row put men on first and third. Then
Frankie walked a man, and the bases were loaded.

The heavy hitters of the Lions were up. Frankie reared back and threw.
Crack!
The pitch was smacked to deep left. Chico went after it. He knew what it would mean if he failed to catch this fly ball.

The ball curved toward the left-field foul line, but it was still well in fair territory. Chico ran as hard as he could, put
up both his hands, and caught the ball. He stopped quickly and pegged the ball in to third. Dutch caught it and tagged the
runner bolting in from second.

The runner on third had scored though, after tagging up.

“Nice throw, Chico!” Dutch yelled to him.

Five to one. Then a pop-up ended the Lions’ threat.

Chico singled in the bottom of the fourth. He ran partway to second before the firstbase
coach’s cries registered in his mind. “Get back here, Chico! Get back here!”

Chico got back to first.
Almost played it foolish again,
he thought.

Dale Hunt came to bat and blasted the first pitch. The ball streaked in a clothesline drive toward short. Chico took off.
As he neared the keystone sack, he heard shouting behind him. He looked out to left field, expecting to see one of the outfielders
fielding the ball.

But the ball wasn’t out there!

Chico looked at the smiling face of the Lions’ second sacker and knew instantly that something funny had happened.

He turned and saw the Lions’ first baseman standing on the bag, the ball in his hand.

Chico’s eyes widened. “What happened?” he murmured.

“What happened?” The Lions’ second
baseman laughed. “You’re out, that’s what happened! Our shortstop caught the line drive and doubled you off at first!”

Chico stared. He slapped his helmet angrily against his thigh and ran across the diamond to the dugout.

“Chico!” said Coach Day. “Why didn’t you watch it? That ball was in the air!”

“I’m sorry,” said Chico. There was nothing else he could say. The coach just shook his head and walked a few paces away.

“Messes up practically every time!” Chico heard String say in a low voice. “We’ll probably lose this game yet.”

But the Royals, including Chico, played airtight ball after that and went on to win, 5 to 2.

After the game, Chico saw his mother and father waiting for him. They gave him their permission to join Buddy at the pool.
Chico
and Buddy arranged to meet there after they’d gone home and changed.

“You played a good game, son,” Mr. Romez said as they walked home.

Chico shrugged. “It would be better if I didn’t mess up so much.”

His parents laughed.

“Everyone makes mistakes,” his mother commented.

T
wenty minutes later, Chico and Buddy were splashing in the pool along with many of their teammates. Chico felt his worries
leave him as he climbed the ladder to the diving board.

“Do a somersault, kid!” he heard the lifeguard call. Chico nodded and walked to the end of the board. He knew everybody was
watching him. He took a deep breath, bounced once, then flung himself into the air and curled into a tight ball. Once, twice
around! He hit the water with barely a splash.

When his head popped through the surface, he heard cheering and applause. Buddy swam toward him and playfully tried to duck
him under. But Chico turned the tables and ducked him instead.

Sputtering and laughing at the same time, the boys swam to the edge to catch their breath. Buddy poked Chico in the ribs.

“Look who’s here!” he said in surprise.

Chico looked where he was pointing and saw String. He was sitting at the edge of the pool, his long legs dangling in the water.
His hair was still dry.

“Hey, String!” Buddy called. “I thought swimming was just for sissies!”

String looked uncomfortable, and then he shrugged. “Nothing wrong with wanting to cool off a little.” He stood up. “Besides,
I’m just here to see who wants to come to a cookout at my house later on. We can see the fireworks from my backyard.”

Chico glanced at Buddy. Was String including him in the invitation, or was it just for Buddy?

“We’ll be there, won’t we, Chico?” Buddy said.

String shrugged again. “Yeah, sure, bring him along.” He turned and walked away.

Chico felt his face redden. Darn that String! Why does he always make me feel like an outsider?

A call from one of his teammates interrupted his thoughts. “Hey, Chico! Bet you can’t do a back dive!”

Chico smiled. At least here he felt like he belonged.

He and Buddy stayed at the pool for another half hour. Chico performed jackknife dives, both forward and backward, and then
a few more somersaults. He felt happy now. He was doing something he could do well.

Perhaps someday he could do as well playing baseball.

After they left the pool, Buddy and Chico stopped first at Chico’s house to get his parents’ permission to go to String’s
barbecue, then at Buddy’s. Buddy grabbed a package of marshmallows from his pantry to bring over.

“Should I get something to bring, too?” Chico asked anxiously.

“No, I’m sure there’ll be plenty of food. I just like toasted marshmallows so much I’m likely to eat a bag of them by myself!”

Dutch Pierce, Frankie Darsi, Ray Ward, and Joe Ellis were already eating hot dogs and hamburgers when Buddy and Chico arrived.
String directed them to where his dad was standing next to the grill. “Hurry up, or you’ll miss out on all the food. Marshmallows
again
this year, huh, Buddy?” String glanced at Chico’s empty hands but didn’t say anything.

String’s father filled their plates with hot dogs, hamburgers, and potato salad. “Plenty more where that came from, boys,”
he said cheerfully.

The sky gradually darkened, and the boys all found places to sit on the lawn. Craning their necks backward and munching on
marshmallows and watermelon, they oohed and aahed at the fireworks display. Chico was spellbound at the colors and laughed
with the others at the loud bangs that thundered through the sky after each display.

Later, he and Buddy walked home together.

“Hey, Chico, I was wondering if you could do me a favor,” Buddy said. “Mom, Dad, and us kids are going to visit my uncle for
a couple of days. Would you mind delivering my papers for two mornings? You’d get to
keep all the money you earn those two days. You could come with me on the route tomorrow morning and I could show you the
ropes. How about it?”

“Sure,” said Chico. “I’ll do it.”

Chico had answered before giving it any thought. After all, Buddy was his best friend. He would help Buddy no matter what
it was.

But — deliver papers? Suddenly he was worried. Would just one day of going around with Buddy be enough to help Chico remember
all the customers?

“How many customers do you have, Buddy?” asked Chico.

“Sixty-four,” said Buddy.

“Sixty-four!” Chico’s eyes went wide.

Buddy laughed. “Some kids have seventy or eighty! It’s not too bad. They’re all within a few blocks of each other. You won’t
have any trouble, Chico. Then you’ll do it?”

Chico smiled. “Of course!”

“Thanks, Chico! Oh — you have to be up early! We pick up our papers at seven o’clock.”

“I’ll be up,” promised Chico.

The next morning, Buddy was at the front door at ten minutes of seven. Chico was up, waiting for him. They walked two blocks
to the corner of Hanley and Lincoln Streets. Four boys were there already, newspaper bags slung over their shoulders. They
spoke to Buddy, but looked strangely at Chico.

“This is Chico Romez,” said Buddy. “He’s going to deliver my papers for me the next two mornings. I’m going to be gone for
a couple of days with my family. We’re leaving really early tomorrow morning — even earlier than this!”

The guys laughed and said hi to Chico. Chico felt better.

A few minutes later, a station wagon drove up. A man got out, greeted the boys, and hauled out several piles of newspapers.
The papers had a peculiar smell. Buddy said it was the ink.

Buddy explained to the man why Chico was with him, then piled the newspapers into his bag. Chico watched carefully.

Then the man took several tickets out of his coat pocket and gave one to each boy. Except Chico.

“For the Jay Jam Circus tonight,” he said. He looked at Chico. “Sorry. These are only for our regular carriers. We don’t have
any extras.”

Chico shrugged. “That’s all right,” he said.

Chico and Buddy crossed the street. Buddy took the ticket out of his pocket. “Here, Chico,” he said. “You take it.”