Kristy and the Walking Disaster (6 page)

"Darn, darn, double, double darn!" he shouted.

The other kids laughed, but not rudely.

At the start of the second inning, I let Jackie be the catcher. Like Karen, he loved wearing the mask and mitt. You could tell he felt professional.

Buddy Barrett was pitching now. He pitched to Jamie. Jamie concentrated, tried not to look scared, and ducked at the last minute. The ball slammed into Jackie's mouth.

"Jackie!" I cried. "What happened to the mask? You were just wearing it."

"I had to take it off, Coach," he replied. "I got my gum stuck on it. I wanted to see if I could make it look like a waffle by pressing it against the mask. You know, like you can do with Silly Put - Uh-oh!"

"What?" I asked.

"My mouth's bleeding! I think I knocked out my tooth. . . . No, it's just loose. Very loose."

I may make comments about food to gross out my friends, but I'll tell you one thing that

grosses me out: very loose teeth. Especially bloody ones.

Claudia knows that. She stepped over to look in Jackie's mouth. "It's so loose it could practically fall out," she said. "Do you want me to pull it for you, Jackie? I've got a Kleenex right here."

Oh, oh, ew.

"All right," agreed Jackie.

The entire team crowded around to watch the proceedings. Not me, though. I stood as far away as possible. I pretended to check on our equipment.

A few minutes later, I saw the kids disperse. Jackie held up a tissue. "My tooth's in here, Coach!" he announced. He ran over to me and smiled a gap-toothed, slightly bloody smile. "I just love losing teeth."

Ew. I never liked losing teeth. I'm glad I'm past that stage. "Put the Kleenex and your tooth in your pocket," I told Jackie.

We played another inning, and I must say that everybody played harder than before. The kids tried hard, too, just like Mallory and Claudia said the four Krushers had done in the game against the triplets.

But it was getting late.

"I think this game is over," I said at the end

of the inning. "How many of you guys have bought T-shirts and iron-on letters?"

Most of the kids raised their hands.

"Good," I told them. "Try to wear your shirts to our next practice. Then we'll really look like a team, and everyone will know we're the Krushers."

The kids began to leave. Charlie arrived to pick up Karen, Andrew, David Michael, and me, and take us to our homes. (Karen and Andrew were going to their mom's house.) After they'd been dropped off, I began to daydream. I daydreamed about Bart. I'd been doing that a lot lately.

An idea came to me.

"Hey, David Michael," I said, "want me to walk Shannon for you tonight?"

David Michael loves Shannon, but he also loves getting out of his chores.

"Sure!" he replied. Then he narrowed his eyes. "What do I have to do for you?" he asked suspiciously.

Do for me? I hadn't thought about that, but what an opportunity.

"Umm ..." I replied slowly, "learn five signs you need to know to play ball with Matt Braddock. Call Nicky Pike and ask him for help, okay?"

"Okay!"

David Michael thought he'd gotten the better part of the deal, but I knew that (with any luck) I had.

When supper was over that night, I found Shannon in the den, chewing on a rubber toy that looked like a steak.

"Want to go for a W-A-L-K?" I asked her.

We started spelling walk so Shannon wouldn't get all excited and think she was going out every time she heard the word. But we spelled it so often that Shannon has figured out what W-A-L-K means.

She abandoned the toy, leaped to her feet, and bounded to the back door, where I clipped on her leash. Then I told Mom and Watson that I was going to walk Shannon, and I set off. I wasn't just walking Shannon, though. I was walking Shannon by Bart Taylor's house. Pretty clever, huh?

I thought so. So I was totally surprised when, only halfway over there, who should I see coming toward me, but Bart! He was walking a rottweiler on this chain that could have tethered a lion. (In case you don't know, a rottweiler is your basic, gigantic dog. Next to Bart's dog, Shannon looked like a mouse.)

Bart and I spotted each other at the same time and called, "Hi!" Then we both slowed

down. We weren't sure how our dogs would behave.

"This is Twinkle," Bart said. "He looks fierce, but he wouldn't hurt a flea."

"And Shannon," I replied, "won't believe that Twinkle wouldn't hurt a flea . . . but let's see what happens."

Poor Shannon approached Twinkle with her tail tucked between her legs. The dogs circled each other and sniffed, and Shannon discovered she was so little she could walk right under Twinkle, which Bart and I thought was pretty funny. When we realized that the dogs were going to be okay, we stood there on the sidewalk as night fell, and began to talk.

I told Bart how the Krushers were doing.

Bart laughed.

"What?" I asked.

"I don't believe it. My team's called the Bashers. The Bashers and the Krushers!"

It was funny.

Then I said, "Have you ever run into a kid who's afraid of balls and ducks them?"

Bart looked thoughtful. "I don't think so. But most of my kids are a little older than yours. They're about seven to nine. They're pretty much past being afraid of the ball and stuff. They're not great players, but they aren't babies."

"The Krushers aren't babies!" I cried.

Bart flushed. "Lighten up," he said. "I didn't really mean that. I was just pointing out that the Bashers are older."

"Sorry," I said, and then practically melted as the streetlights came on and caught Bart's hair, giving it a sort of glow.

Bart was the cutest guy I had ever seen.

"Hey," said Bart, "I've got an idea. Just to show you that I think your team is as good as mine, even if the kids are younger, how about a game? Bart's Bashers challenge Kristy's Krushers."

A game? A real game? Against Bart's team? I didn't know if the Krushers were ready for something like that, but I wasn't about to say no. I couldn't let Bart think I was afraid of his team. Besides, if we set up a game, I'd be sure to see him again - soon.

"Sure," I replied. "How about two weeks from Saturday? Is that enough time for the Bashers to get ready?"

"Of course! But what about the Krushers?"

"Oh, they'll be ready."

I grinned at Bart and he grinned back.

As I walked Shannon home a few minutes later, I felt as if there were cotton balls under my feet instead of concrete. And I'm sure my eyes were shining.

Chapter 9.

Boy. Thanks to me, Jessi really did have an easy sitting job. But I'm not complaining. After all, coaching a softball team was my idea. Jessi couldn't help it if Buddy and Suzi were on the team.

I have to admit that Jessi saw an unusual practice, though. I mean, a more exciting one than most. The kids gathered at the playground right on time - and every last one of them was wearing a Kristy's Krushers T-shirt, even the kids who hadn't yet bought shirts and letters when I'd asked about that before. I was wearing a Krushers shirt, too. After all, I was the coach.

You could almost taste the excitement in the air.

I got to the playground early. Watson had driven David Michael and me over and was going to stay to watch the practice. He headed

for the stands, saying he would keep out of our way.

David Michael beamed as he helped me check the equipment. "We're a real team now," he said at least three times. "And everyone will know you're our coach. I like that. Red letters."

It was true that my shirt was lettered in red while the kids' shirts were lettered in black, but I was hoping a few other things might be clues that I was coach - like, I was thirteen instead of 5.8, and taller than the players.

The kids began to show up, all wearing T-shirts over sweat shirts or other shirts since it was a cool day.

"Hi-hi!" called Jamie, arriving with Gabbie, Myriah, and Mr. Perkins.

"Look at us, Coach!" shouted Suzi, as she and Buddy ran onto the playground, followed by Jessi pushing Marnie in her stroller.

Five more Kristy's Krushers T-shirts.

"We're here!" cried Karen as she and Andrew climbed out of their mother's car and their mom drove off. (This was not one of their weekends at our house.)

Andrew was wearing his Kristy's Krushers shirt.

Karen was wearing her shirt, too. It said Kristy's Crushers.

"Whoa, Karen!" I exclaimed. "How did that happen? Did your mom iron the letters on your shirts?"

Karen nodded.

"Well, she spelled our team name wrong on your shirt."

"My shirt is spelled correctly," said Karen. "It'll be the only one, too. Crushers. C-R-U-S-H-E-R-S. Crushers/Karen sounded like she was in a spelling bee. I knew there was no changing her mind. She takes her spelling very seriously. Anyway, I didn't see why I should discourage that.

Kids kept pouring onto the playground. Soon all the Krushers had arrived, as well as some more onlookers. There were Jessi and Marnie, of course. And Mr. Perkins. He was sitting in the stands with Watson. Haley Brad-dock, Vanessa Pike, and Charlotte Johanssen (another kid our club sits for) had shown up, too. I guess just to watch the action. Plus, a couple of little boys I didn't recognize were hanging around.

I looked over at Jessi and she waved to me. She was giving Marnie Cheerios from a baggie. When you go places with a two-year-old, you have to bring along an awful lot of equipment - toys, munchies, baby wipes, extra clothes, you name it.

"Okay, Krushers!" I shouted. "Everybody over here! I've got news!"

Watson and I had decided that I should tell the kids about our game against the Bashers as soon as possible. Since I wasn't sure how some of them were going to react, I wanted to make the whole thing sound as exciting as possible. I called Haley over to sign for Matt.

"You guys look great!" I exclaimed when we were all sitting down.

"A real team, like I said before," added David Michael.

I'd never seen so many happy faces in one place.

"What's the news, Coach?" Jake Kuhn wanted to know.

"The news," I said, dragging the surprise out tantalizingly, "is that we . . . the Krushers . . . are going to play a real game . . . against another team."

A murmur ran through the crowd. If it was possible, the kids' faces lit up even more. (A good sign.)

"Who are we playing?" asked Jackie.

"A team called the Bashers."

"Bart's Bashers?" squeaked Max Delaney.

I couldn't tell whether he sounded excited or terrified.

"That's right."

"Are they good?" asked Jackie.

"I've never seen them play," I replied honestly, "but I know that they're a little older than you guys. I mean, just on the average, so - "

"But they're not Little Leaguers?" said Nicky Pike.

"Nope."

There was a moment of silence. Then Hannie Papadakis said, "This is going to be so, so cool." I think she got that from me.

And Matt Braddock raised his hand to attract my attention, then signed that he couldn't wait for the game and that the Bashers better get themselves ready for it.

"When is the game?" Haley asked me, signing for Matt at the same time.

"Two weeks from today," I answered, "so we better start working. We need to practice, and I also want to assign positions to some of you. We've got to have a really good pitcher, a really good shortshop, and really good basemen. We won't be switching around so much anymore. The pitcher is the most important position, though, and everybody will need to work on hitting, okay?"

"Okay!" yelled the kids.

"Are we ready to get to work?"

"Yes!"

"Are we going to work hard?"

"YES!"

"Are we going to beat the Bashers?"

"YES!"

And right at that moment, I got another one of my ideas. Cheerleaders! Boy, could we use them! And I bet the Bashers wouldn't have cheerleaders.

"Haley," I said. "I know you don't want to play ball, but how would you like to be a cheerleader? Maybe Vanessa could cheer, too. And Charlotte."

"Wow!" cried Haley. "Hey, Vanessa! Charlotte! Come here for a sec!"

The girls left the stands and ran to us. I told them my idea.

Vanessa was so excited she practically burst out of her skin, but Charlotte began to look guarded. "I don't know," she said. "All those people watching. ..." Charlotte is really shy.

"Oh, please?" said Vanessa and Haley at the same time.

"Well, maybe I could help you make up some cheers and you guys could do them," said Charlotte slowly.

"That'd be great," I told her. I didn't want to force her into anything. Once, Claudia had

kind of pressured her into being in a beauty pageant, and Charlotte had ended up running off the stage in tears.

"Two cheerleaders and one helper would be perfect," I told the girls. Charlotte is very smart, and I knew she'd write good cheers.

The girls grinned at each other excitedly.

"Boy!" exclaimed Myriah. "Cheerleaders and everything!"

"Yeah," said Jackie. "If we're going to have a real game with team T-shirts and cheerleaders, maybe we should sell refreshments."

"Mallory could help Nicky and Claire and me bake cookies," said Margo Pike.

"We could sell lemonade," suggested Suzi Barrett.

I thought for a moment. Refreshments sounded like a lot of fun - and a lot of work. "Who's going to sell the refreshments?" I asked. "We'll all be busy playing or cheering or coaching."

"Our brothers and sisters," said Max Delaney. "I bet Amanda would help."

I doubted that, but Charlie and Sam might help. The Pike triplets might, too. "Well, okay. But what are we going to do with the money we earn?" I asked. "Remember, it will be team money."

"Buy team hats," Jackie replied immediately.

"We really need them. Only some of us have hats, and they don't match."

So that was all settled.

"Great," I said. "But now we better do the most important thing of all - practice."

I got the kids all worked up again, then divided them into two sides for a game. They really needed to improve their teamwork.