My face fell, which caused Missy to look at me with concern.
“What’s wrong?” she asked.
“Sunny Skye is my official date for the dance.”
“We know that, ‘stupid boy,’” Tami chided me.
“I’d bet that you can dance with people other than just Sunny,” Missy teased me.
“Hmmm. Let me think about that.”
“Time’s up, Buster,” Tami glared at me.
“Okay, okay. Missy’s welcome to visit that weekend.”
Missy gave me an air kiss and then left the room. Before she left I yelled, “Go get Harper.”
“Okay, Buster, who’d you knock up?” Tami asked.
“Are you talking in general, or in the last few days?”
“Don’t get cute with me. Something major is up, and no one’s talking. I’ve never seen the cone of silence instituted. This has to be huge.”
This would drive her crazy.
“I’m not sure I know what you’re talking about.”
“Liar, liar, pants on fire.”
“Who, me?”
“Yes, you. Now spill it.”
“Nope, not happening.”
“Do I have to get rough with you? I still have your middle school picture when you got the perm.”
“I still have the picture of your bare butt when you were ten.”
“Damn you. Please, David, just give me a hint.”
“Tami, give it a rest. This doesn’t directly involve me, so I’m asking you to let this go.”
“Is this the way it’s going to be?” Tami asked.
“Okay, let’s just say I’m holding a friend’s confidence.”
“You evil boy. I’ll find out,” she challenged me.
Harper peeked her head into Tami’s door and saw me.
“Hey, Stud Muffin, how’s it hangin’?”
“See, Tami, this is how you should greet me. Everyone needs to know that I’m a stud, and how things are hanging,” I said, and stood up and started to drop my shorts.
Both of them screamed, “Stop!”
“Are you sure? I’m willing to show you.”
“You’re such a boy,” Harper huffed.
“Finally, she noticed. When are you dumping that boyfriend?” I asked her.
“In your dreams. You couldn’t handle all this,” Harper said, doing a slow turn for the camera.
My eyebrows went up and Tami got nervous.
“Oh, shit,” Tami mumbled.
I took my shirt off, lowered my shorts to just above my package, and waggled my eyebrows.
Harper laughed at me.
“All show and no go,” Harper taunted me.
“You might want to stop while you’re ahead,” Tami warned her.
“Pfft,” Harper responded.
That made Tami laugh. I was glad someone was amused. I would get even at some point, and Tami knew it.
Monday March 3
WHEN I ARRIVED AT SCHOOL, I went looking for Tracy. She didn’t see me come up behind her. I figured a little payback was in order, so I gave her a hip-check. Her head snapped around, and when she saw it was me, she grinned.
“Hey, Sexy Boy,” she purred.
That got everyone’s attention, and I actually blushed. She winked at me as she turned to go to her locker. It was nice to see her able to smile.
AFTER SCHOOL, I WENT to baseball tryouts. There were a lot of guys and even a few girls trying out. I was glad to see several of my friends. Eve was one of the girls. Dad had gone with me over the weekend to get new equipment because I’d outgrown everything. I had spent most of Sunday breaking in my glove. It had a long way to go, but I enjoyed getting it ready for the season. I was excited to play ball this year since I’d missed playing last summer.
Moose Donovan was our coach. He had to be in his late 50s or early 60s. This was his twenty-fifth year as the head baseball coach at Lincoln High. He was tough as nails, and you didn’t want to get on his bad side. Coach Diamond, who was also our JV Football Coach, was Moose’s assistant. Mike’s dad, Steve Herndon, was a volunteer assistant. Coach Herndon had played minor league baseball as a pitcher.
Everyone gathered around to get their assignments.
“Evening, gentlemen, I’m Moose. Just so we’re clear, I answer to Coach or Moose. Either one is fine. Coach Diamond is going to work with the outfielders. Coach Herndon has the pitchers and catchers. The rest of the infield will be with me.
“I also want to clear something up for you freshmen and first-year players: you will not be playing varsity ball. I don’t believe in throwing anyone onto the varsity squad before they have at least a year of high school ball under their belt. This is nonnegotiable. The first one of you that has his momma or daddy call me about it will be running until either they drop or quit, I don’t really care which.
“There will be two teams this year, varsity and JV. Normally, I try to put only first-year players on JV. If you are cut from varsity I will consider ... did you hear that? ... I will consider letting you try out for JV. I use the JV team to give first-year players a chance to learn. If I feel that you could develop, I’ll let you play JV ball. I know that sounds harsh, but it has worked for twenty-five years. Are there any questions before we get started?”
The hell he said. I was not a happy camper, knowing I had no shot at playing varsity ball. Moose had looked directly at me when he asked the question. They had the pitchers sign up to try out. They wanted to have each of us to throw fifteen balls. Coach Herndon only had four catchers, so we had to take turns. Of course, freshmen went last.
I went with Moose to try out at shortstop. Moose basically worked out with the varsity for the first half of practice, while the rest of us played catch. We finally got bored and one of the guys went and got a bat. We were shagging grounders and goofing off when Moose finally let the varsity go for the day.
They put us into groups of four. He would hit twenty balls and we were to throw to first. Nothing fancy was expected. He just wanted to see if you could field a grounder and make the play. We had nine freshmen, so we were put into the last groups.
I about screamed when I was called over to pitch right before my group got our turn at the infield tryouts. The odd guy out was Alan. We had begged him to try out, but his heart wasn’t in it. He gave me a dirty look when he had to take my place.
Of course there were five remaining pitchers and I was told to wait some more. I got Jeff to play long toss so I could loosen up. He then helped me stretch. By now, the infield tryouts were done and it was finally my turn to pitch. The other catchers wanted to leave, so Mike volunteered. He had to wait for his dad anyways.
Coach Herndon had me take the mound.
“David, I don’t want to see how hard you can pitch. The easiest way to mess up your arm is to throw hard, and wrong. I want you to learn to throw it right before we throw it hard.”
“Yes, sir.”
My first pitch got away from me, and I threw it into the backstop. My ribs were still not healed yet, so I wasn’t going to go crazy. Several of the guys were messing around and I scared the crap out of them. They figured a little payback was in order and started to heckle me. So I made sure my second pitch was head level with the peanut gallery. I don’t care how brave you are, when a fastball is coming at your head, you duck. They gave me the finger.
Moose came over to see what was going on. That cleared out my ‘fan club’ and got me serious.
I did as Coach said and threw easy. I concentrated on what I’d learned at Wesleyan.
On my seventh pitch, I got my footwork right. The difference in the pop of the glove caught the coaches’ attention. They quit talking to each other and Coach Herndon gave me a look like he wondered where that came from.
The next pitch was the same. Moose put me on the gun and showed it to the other two coaches. None of them were letting on as to what they thought.
“I want you to throw five more pitches, each one a little harder,” Moose told me.
I concentrated on not overthrowing. I just tried to keep my technique good. I didn’t try to throw any harder for the five pitches, because my side ached. What I was proudest of was that all five would have been strikes.