The Hit-Away Kid (4 page)

He saw that smirk on Alec’s face and wished he could wipe it clean off with one hot drive right at him. Or maybe one hot long
one over the left-field fence.

Alec breezed the first one by him for a called strike. Then he steamed in two pitches that just missed the outside corner.
Two balls, one strike.

Alec paused, then steamed in another pitch. “Ball three!” bellowed the ump.

Barry stepped out of the box for a moment, feeling good. Maybe Alec will walk me, he thought. At least it won’t be a strikeout.

Alex pitched. “Strike two!” cried the ump.

Barry took a deep breath. He really had to watch this next pitch. It came in. Barry swung.
Whiff!

“You’re out!” shouted the ump.

Barry walked out of the box, feeling sick. One more strikeout and he — and Tommy — would never see that dog figurine again.

Turtleneck singled, and José got on by virtue of an error. Then T.V. flied out, and Randy struck out to end the top of the
first inning.

Barry picked up his glove and ran out to left field, pulling his cap down tight again to keep the wind from blowing it off.
It was blowing from right to left, an advantage for a left-handed hitter because the wind would tend to keep his ball in fair
territory, a disadvantage for a right-handed hitter because the wind might blow it foul.

Only Tony Workman, the Bunkers’ third batter, and Alec, batting cleanup, got on base, but neither could score during the bottom
of that inning.

Nicky Chong led off for the Mudders in the top of the second inning and flied out to center. Barry stepped out of the dugout,
put
on his helmet, and leisurely picked up his bat as he waited for Alfie to take his batting turn.

Alfie struck out. Oh, man, Barry thought. Alec’s on a roll today. He’s already got three strikeouts, including me.

Left-hander Zero Ford, the Mudders’ pitcher, lined Alec’s second pitch between first and second for a single, and Barry stepped
into the batting box. Again he saw that smirk on Alec’s face, but he tried to ignore it. Just pitch it to me, Smart-Alec,
he thought.

Alec did. “Strike one!” cried the ump.

In came another. “Strike two!”

Barry’s heart pounded. He stepped out of the box, tapped the end of the bat a couple of times against the plate, then stepped
in again.

Alec pitched. It looked like another strike.

Barry swung.
Crack!
The ball left his bat and zoomed out between left and center field. Deep … deep … deep …

HOME RUN!

Barry almost knew it would be the moment he hit it. He carried the bat halfway down the baseline before he tossed it aside
and ran around the bases. He heard the fans yelling and could hardly resist the temptation to turn and look at Alec and see
the expression on his face.

But he didn’t look. He didn’t have to. He had gotten what he needed. A home run. All he needed was one more. But it’s not
that
easy, pal, he told himself. He’ll pitch differently to you the next time. He might even strike you out. You’re still in deep
trouble no matter how you look at it.

The cheers stopped after the guys slapped fives with Barry and he sat down near the end of the dugout. Zero, who had also
scored, sat beside him. Then Susan came and sat on his other side, giving him a big smile. “That was beautiful,” she praised
him.

“Thanks,” he said. She was nice to him, but he knew she’d never forget the fly he had missed in last week’s game.

Turtleneck doubled, putting him in a position for another run. But José struck out on a two-two pitch, ending the top half
of the inning and giving Alec his fourth strikeout. He’s really hot today, Barry thought worriedly as he picked up his glove
and trotted out to left field.

Dick Strom, leading off for the Bunkers, drove a hot liner between Turtleneck and Sammy that went for two bases. Barry fielded the ball and whipped it to third to keep Dick from running there. Then Judd singled,
driving in Dick.

“Close to the foul line, Barry!” T.V. yelled at him, motioning him over as Dave Apple came to the plate.

Dave blasted a long fly to deep left that went foul by inches, but Barry caught it for an out. Good ol’ T.V.! Barry thought.

Zero walked Jake Jacoby, and Fuzzy popped a fly to short. Then Ron Bush walked, and Tony grounded out to shortstop for the
third out. Mudders 2, Bunkers 1.

Only Bus managed to get on base in the top of the third inning, and that was because of an error by the shortstop. Then Alec
led off for the Bunkers and lambasted Zero’s first pitch for a homer over the center-field fence. It was, Barry thought, probably
the longest hit he’d ever seen there.

Andy Campbell kept it rolling by cracking
out a single. Dick walked. Judd popped up. Then Dave doubled to right center field, scoring two more runs. Zero fanned Jake
for his first strikeout but walked Fuzzy. Ron singled over short, scoring the Bunkers’ fourth run. Then Tony laced a grounder
to Bus, which Bus fielded for the third out. Mudders 2, Bunkers 5.

They’re really rolling, Barry thought, still worried as he and the rest of the Mudders trotted off the field to start the
top half of the fourth inning. Alfie hit a hard one down to shortstop, which Fuzzy missed. Then Zero singled over short for
his second hit, sending Alfie to second.

And Barry came up.

“Barry!” called the coach.

Oh, no! Barry thought as he glanced down toward the third-base coaching box. He’s not going to take me out, is he?

“Look those pitches over carefully,” Coach Parker advised, clapping his hands softly.

Barry nodded, took a deep, relieved breath, then stepped into the batter’s box. The first pitch was slightly low and inside.
Barry let it go by.

“Strike!” said the ump.

Barry and the tall guy in the white pants and shirt exchanged looks. Then Barry got ready for the next pitch. It came steaming
down the middle of the plate, and Barry swung.

Crack!
A shallow drive to deep left center field!

Barry dropped the bat, raced to first … to second … to third …

He missed touching second base, but he couldn’t stop now. He kept going.

Barry saw Coach Parker holding up his hands as he came running in to third base, and he stopped there, breathing hard and
sweating. He took off his helmet and cap and wiped the sweat off his forehead. Then he looked directly at the coach and nervously
wondered, Did he see me miss second base? Did the umpire see me?

The coach was smiling. “Nice hit, Barry,” he said.

“Thanks,” said Barry. “But I …” He faltered.
But I missed second base!
he wanted to say.
And no one saw me! I could get away with it, just like I got away with it the time I missed that fly ball! But I can’t do
that again! I won’t do it again! I wouldn’t be any better than Alec if I did!

He saw that Jake, the Bunkers’ third baseman, still had the ball, which had been thrown to him from left field. Calmly, Barry
stepped off the bag.

“Barry, watch it!” shouted Coach Parker. But Barry showed no reaction that he had heard. Jake jumped toward him and tagged
him out.

“Barry! Didn’t you know he had the ball?” the coach demanded.

Barry nodded. “Yes, Coach. But I hadn’t touched second base,” he said honestly, and loud enough for some of the crowd to hear
him. “I figured I should be out, anyway.”

The coach stared at him, his mouth popping open. But no words came out.

José slammed a triple before the half-inning was over, and T.V. knocked him in, giving the Mudders one more run. They kept
the Bunkers scoreless during the bottom half of the fourth, then came to bat in the top of the fifth with the score tied,
Mudders 5, Bunkers 5. Barry worried about what he was going to do the next time he went to the plate.

Randy led off with a sharp single over Alec’s head. Then Nicky, after fouling off three successive pitches, flied out to center.

“Come on, Alfie,” Barry said as he stepped out of the dugout and picked up his bat. “Knock him in!”

Alfie walked.

Then Zero hit a steaming hot grounder down to third that looked like a sure out, but Jake bobbled it and all the runners were
safe. The bases were loaded and Barry was the next batter.

He stepped up to the plate, his heart thumping. He could think of nothing but winning
that figurine back from Alec. If Alec struck him out, it was over. If he knocked a home run, Tommy would get his figurine
back. But knocking a home run was like asking for a trip to the moon. He’d had one home run already. Expecting to get two
of them was too much to expect.

“Strike!” said the ump as Alec blazed in an inside, corner-touching pitch.

Then, “Ball!”

Barry stepped out of the box, rubbed his hands up and down on the handle of the bat, and stepped in again.

“Strike two!” boomed the ump as another inside, corner-touching pitch steamed in.

Barry’s heart pounded. He waited for the next pitch. In it came. It was almost in the same spot as the last pitch. He swung.
Crack!
The ball sailed out to deep left field! But the wind caught it! It was curving … curving … !

“Foul ball!” yelled the ump.

“Oh, no!” groaned the fans.

Barry was sick. It was so close!

He popped up the next pitch. Three outs.

It was over — now Barry would never get Tommy’s toy dog back.

Turtleneck struck out, and that was it. No one scored.

The Bunkers came up for their last bats, got two men on, then scored both when Judd Koles lambasted a triple to left center
field. The Bunkers won, 7 to 5.

Barry headed off the field immediately, not even wanting to see that smirking look on Alec’s face, or that disappointed look
on Susan’s.

“Barry! Wait up!”

He turned at the sound of the voice and saw Alec running toward him. When Alec reached him, Barry couldn’t hide his frustration.
“What do you want?”

Alec suddenly seemed nervous. He stuck his hands in his pockets and said, “Uh, I just wanted to say you played a good game.”