Home Run Page 15

  Their final game—the championship—would be played that evening, and as they got on the bus to head back to the hotel, Josh couldn’t even speak, not to Benji, not even to Jaden. He hid beneath an angry scowl with his hat brim pulled low and ear buds jammed home with music from his iPod so loud others could hear it.

  Not stopping in the lobby, Josh hurried to his room, kept his music on, and buried his nose in The Return of the King. Benji knew to leave him be. Jaden tried to get him to text her back, but he ignored her and read, losing himself in the story. He was almost there, caught up in Frodo’s scary encounter at the gates of Mordor, when someone started hammering the door without stopping.

  Josh yanked the buds from his ears and shouted, “What! Leave me alone, Jaden!”

  Silence for a moment before he heard a voice that wasn’t Jaden’s. “It’s me. Josh! Answer!”

  It was a voice Josh didn’t recognize. He rumpled his brow and got off the bed, approaching the door slowly. He put his eye up to the peephole.

  When he realized who it was, he took in a sharp breath.

  CHAPTER FIFTY-FIVE

  JOSH HAD NO IDEA what Jack Sheridan was doing there. He’d changed out of his uniform and was wearing jeans and a T-shirt. His dark hair was matted and wet, like he’d taken a shower.

  He was carrying his bat.

  “What do you want?” Josh asked through the door.

  Jack rattled the handle and knocked with the bat. “Let me in. I gotta talk to you.”

  Even as upset as he was, Josh couldn’t resist. He opened the door. Sheridan looked up and down the hall as if checking to make sure the coast was clear, then stepped inside, closing the door behind him.

  “Why are you here?” Josh kept his eyes on the bat, nervous now for some reason.

  Jack walked past him and sat down in the chair by the curtains. Josh didn’t sit down but stood at the foot of his bed.

  “Where’s the big guy?” Jack looked around and planted the bat on the floor in front of him like he was staking a claim.

  “Probably at the pool.”

  “Probably at the snack bar.” Jack smiled.

  Josh didn’t smile. “Could be. Why are you here?”

  “You don’t like me, do you?” Jack leaned forward with both hands on the end of the bat.

  “I don’t even know you.”

  “True.” Jack raised and eyebrow and pointed at Josh with the fat end of the bat. “But you and I got a lot in common.”

  “We do?”

  Jack nodded. “This—the game—is important to us. I mean, it’s important to everyone, but you and me? It’s something more. It’s like life or death.”

  “Not quite.” Josh swallowed.

  “I don’t believe you. Look at you.” Jack jiggled the bat at him. “You’re a mess.”

  “I’m fine. I’m in a slump.”

  “With time running out, right?” Jack thumped the floor with the bat. “We just played about ten percent of our fall ball season already, and you’ve got a goose egg in the HR department. Coach told me that you want that house.”

  “It’s none of your business, Sheridan.” It felt like the coach’s favorite was in complete control, and Josh didn’t like it.

  “You’re doing it wrong.” Jack’s dark eyes sparkled. He stood up and reared back with the bat in both hands now, ready to take a swing. “Yeah, I can help you. It’s easy.”

  Josh stuttered. His insides were doing flips and twists.

  All he saw was a threat.

  CHAPTER FIFTY-SIX

  “EASY?” JOSH SAID ANGRILY. “Because that’s how you roll, right? Everything’s easier if Jack Sheridan’s involved.”

  Sheridan lowered the bat just a bit. “Look . . . I see where you go wrong.”

  Josh’s face softened. “Sorry. I’m going out of my mind. I thought you were going to hit me with that.”

  Jack looked at the bat in surprise, then laughed at Josh. “Hit you? Bro, do I look like a killer?”

  Josh let go a nervous puff of a breath, not quite laughter. “I said I’m going crazy.”

  “That first night of practice, I couldn’t believe your bat. I’ve seen some serious hitters. I’m a serious hitter. But you? Your swing packs a punch like you see in the majors. Your speed . . .” Jack looked at him, almost embarrassed. “Anyway, you’ve got it all—timing, the eye—you know this. But now, all of a sudden, you’re uppercutting. I’ve been watching you. You’re trying to jack every pitch out of the park, but you don’t need to try.”

  “What? You’re saying I can do better if I don’t try?” Josh shook his head.

  “Yes,” Jack said. “I’m serious. Don’t give me that look. Let me show you.”

  Jack got into a batter’s stance and in slow motion mimicked Josh’s swing. “Your wrists break just here, perfect. Your bat comes through level as a balance beam. You connect with so much power it drives the ball right out of the park. But what you’re doing now is this.”

  Jack brought the bat back again and bent his rear knee just slightly before lowering his back hip down, then up, down, then up again. “You’re dropping your back leg, just a fraction. You’re dropping your leg to get that upward motion on your bat so it comes through like this. Not flat. More like the upward line of a seesaw, so everything is off. You’re striking out, or if you do hit it, you’re connecting with the bottom of the ball and sending it up like a mortar.”

  Josh thought about what Jack Sheridan was saying, and it didn’t take him more than a few seconds to realize he was exactly right. Josh let out a gust of laughter. “This is crazy.”

  “It’s not crazy.” Jack handed him the bat. “You gotta just be you. Let it happen, you know?”

  Josh took a swing, his old swing, and felt its level trajectory.

  “That’s it.” Jack pointed at the bat. “That’s all you gotta do.”

  Josh took a couple more swings, then looked questioningly at Jack.

  “Yup.” Jack nodded and smiled. “You got it, bro. I can get with you at the park too. You’re golden. Back to the real you.”

  Josh handed him the bat. “I . . . thanks, Jack.”

  “Hey, I want to win these things. We don’t win, and people stop paying attention. Half the reason we came here is because of you. You draw a crowd, and that crowd just might notice me.”

  “They will for sure,” Josh said, happy that in some way he’d be helping Jack too. “Hey, can I ask you something?”

  “Sure.” Jack smiled.

  “Why did Coach tell you about me and the Home Run Derby?”

  Jack shrugged. “Everyone wants to win. The better you do, the better it is for all of us, me and Coach included.”

  “You guys are pretty close, huh?” Josh asked.

  “Coach and my dad served together. Look, I don’t want to talk about it.” Jack tightened his grip on the bat and began to smack it into his hand.

  “I’ll see you on the field,” Jack said, leaving.

  Josh knew how it felt not to want to talk about things.

  That was for sure.

  CHAPTER FIFTY-SEVEN

  JADEN CAME WITH BENJI to get Josh for the game.

  “He helped me,” Josh said.

  “What?” Jaden said.

  “Who?” Benji asked.

  Josh explained how Jack helped him with his swing. “He’s right too.”

  Benji bit at his thumbnail. “I don’t know about that. You hit home runs by not trying to hit home runs? Heavy hitters just do it. It’s natural. I guess I can’t get into the technical details of how I do it. It’s like a snake slithering through grass or a cheetah chasing down an antelope and tearing it to pieces.”

  “Or a hippo just flopping into a mud hole.” Jaden spoke with such seriousness and looked right at Benji so that he was confused into silence.

  Jaden clapped Josh on the back. “So, you ready?”

  “I think so.” Josh blocked everything else out of his mind. When he boarded the bus, he gave Sheridan a thumbs-
up but didn’t stop to talk. He couldn’t get distracted. He couldn’t worry about anything. He had to focus. He sat in the back corner by the window and closed his eyes. Over and over he imagined himself taking the perfect swing. It was his own swing, so it wasn’t hard to do; he just wanted to repeat it over and over. Josh wanted to see himself hitting the ball out of the park, his way, in his own mind.

  Time worked against him. The harder he pushed, the more it resisted; and instead of carrying him along to victory like a swift canoe down a gurgling brook, it oozed along like mud. With Jack Sheridan playing shortstop and Esch pitching, the Titans took the field first, and Josh considered it a good sign when he snagged a soft line drive near second base to end the inning.

  The opposing team, a group from Charleston, South Carolina, had a good pitcher too, and he sat down the first three Titan batters, leaving Benji standing in the on-deck circle with a frown. The top of the second inning dragged on, with Esch battling the first two batters, throwing nearly ten pitches to each before striking them out. The third batter got on base with a ground ball that Sheridan fumbled, and the fourth battled it out with Esch before banging one over the fence. Esch showed no signs of weakness, but after a dozen more pitches, he walked the fifth batter.

  Josh caught Esch’s eye and saw his teammate bite his lower lip, not a good sign. The man on first tried to steal second after the first pitch. The catcher fired a wayward bullet, but Josh leaped up, grabbed it, and slapped the runner’s leg to end the inning. Esch jogged over and gave Josh a hug, just how it was supposed to be.

  In the dugout, Martin was grinning. “It’s back,” he said.

  “What?” Josh had no idea what he meant.

  “Your mojo.”

  Jaden, looking up from her stats book, agreed.

  Josh pushed “mojo” out of his mind and stepped into the on-deck circle. He worked his swing between pitches, studying the action of the ball and visualizing himself hitting it out of the park. Benji struck out and brushed past Josh with a lower lip the size of a small state. “Guy’s got a wicked King Felix changeup. You see that thing? Better than King Felix, I swear.”

  “It’s not that good.” Josh adjusted the brim of his helmet and started toward home plate, breathing deeply and letting it out slow.

  “You okay?” The catcher was a heavy, freckle-faced kid with a Southern accent, and he was trying to get into Josh’s head.

  “Real good.” Josh looked right at him and smiled. “You?”

  That shut the kid up. Josh took a practice swing and stepped into the box. The pitcher wasted no time. He wound up like he was throwing to save his own life. Josh watched it, anticipating a hot pitch. It slowed. Josh swung.

  “Strike one!” barked the ump.

  The catcher snickered.

  Josh kept breathing. He knew the kid was going to throw heat, and when he did, Josh was going to kill it, not hit under it but kill it.

  The pitcher wound up and threw another changeup. Josh whiffed.

  He knew the kid couldn’t throw three changeups in a row. That would be crazy. Josh gritted his teeth and forced himself to think about the swing. That was all, a nice level swing.

  In came the pitch, fast, high, and on the outer half of the plate.

  Josh swung and blasted it over the opposite field fence.

  He tried not to laugh out loud, but happiness filled him like helium in a birthday balloon. His feet barely touched the bags as he rounded the bases, and a chuckle sprang loose at the way the catcher tried to look like he didn’t care. Josh slapped Sheridan, Esch, Preston, and his other teammates high fives. He was so happy.

  He had it back: his swing, his rhythm, and his confidence. He was going to get into that Qwik-E-Builders derby.

  He just knew it.

  CHAPTER FIFTY-EIGHT

  JOSH DIALED UP HIS dad on the bus ride home. He got nothing but voice mail, and then a few minutes later a simple text from his dad promising a call later on when he got free. Josh could only imagine that he was on the road somewhere, entertaining players and parents. He wondered where. Some small Texas town, he imagined.

  Josh nodded off, and before he knew it they were back in Syracuse. Mrs. Lido was there at the parking lot, waiting for Benji and Josh and Jaden. There were groggy good-byes and congratulations all around. Josh shuddered when he got out of the car on the dark, dreary street and Mrs. Lido pulled away. He scampered up the steps and let himself in. The light in the entryway was out, and Josh’s heart galloped until he was safely inside their apartment. His mom was asleep on the couch with a book in her lap, head tilted back and mouth wide open, snoring lightly.

  Josh tiptoed around her and got ready for bed. He had just laid down when his phone buzzed.

  “Dad?”

  “Hey, buddy.” His father sounded exhausted. “Sorry, it’s an hour earlier here, and I had a dinner.”

  “How’s that going?”

  His father exhaled. “Not easy.”

  “You’ll do it.”

  “I hope so,” his father said. “I’ve never had so many nachos in my life, and I never thought I’d know so much about structural engineering.”

  “Engineering?” Josh said.

  “The grandstands,” his father said. “They had to tear them down and start over. Set us back three months at least. Man . . .”

  “Well, I’ve got some good news.” Josh tried not to sound too excited, because his father was talking about really big things, a Division One baseball program. “I got my mojo back.”

  “Your . . . Hey, that’s great. Tell me about it.”

  Josh recounted his struggles and then his breakthrough earlier in the day.

  “That’s really good. Yeah, relaxing is the key, but I want you to get with that training bat every day. Now that you’ve got that rhythm back I don’t want you to lose it, see? Lock that groove in your mind and keep your bat speed up. Can you do that?”

  “Sure.” Josh felt a surge of excitement and also a pang of regret. He loved being coached by his dad. He trusted him completely. He also missed him terribly.

  “Good. Well, I hate to say good-bye, but I’m ready to fall asleep on my feet.” His father yawned into the phone.

  “Dad?” Josh felt his eyes welling with tears, and he tried to keep the emotion out of his voice.

  “Yeah?”

  “I miss you.”

  His father said nothing for a moment, then cleared his throat. “I miss you too, buddy. More than you can know.”

  Josh said good-bye. He felt warm all over. Life seemed suddenly good, not perfect but good, and he dropped off to sleep.

  The next day Josh got his Speed Hitter going before breakfast. He went right out on the sidewalk, surprised at how quiet the neighborhood was. It was a warm, lazy summer morning, and the only sound was the thwack of Josh’s practice swing. He actually had a sweat going by the time his mom came out on the steps.

  “What are you doing?” she asked.

  He smiled and shrugged. “Just getting some hits in.” They hugged, and went inside where she fixed him breakfast while he told her about everything that had happened. She set two fried eggs and some whole wheat toast in front of him, and she seemed to glow. “I’m glad you’re happy, Josh.”

  “I’m going to win us that house, Mom.” He picked up his fork and dug into his eggs.

  She sighed and poured herself a cup of coffee before sitting down across from him. “If you do, I sure won’t complain.”

  Josh grinned at her, happy she wasn’t knocking the whole idea. That seemed like a sign to Josh, his mom going along with the whole thing.

  It made him feel like it was a mission he was destined to accomplish.

  CHAPTER FIFTY-NINE

  SCHOOL HAD BEGUN THE day after Labor Day and with it came a flurry of homework, quizzes, and tests. Summer fizzled. The September weeks went by fast, with school and practice and traveling to tournaments every weekend.

  Josh got back into his cleanup batting position. His home run c
ount grew and grew, as did his worry over walking down Woodrow Street day after day. If he saw the Skulls gang in anyone’s doorway, he’d cross over to the other side of the street and ignore their shouting as he hurried his pace. His mother had a couple near misses with a job. Nothing worked out, and sometimes they ate cereal for dinner while she wrung her hands, fretting.

  Josh tried not to be mad at his father, and it wasn’t too hard because they didn’t get a chance to talk all that much. Between training his college players and recruiting on the road, it seemed they shared more voice messages and texts than they did real conversations. So when they did connect, Josh let the excitement and the love he felt for his dad—despite the bad money situation—win out.

  The nights grew cooler and longer, and by late September the Titans were practicing at the Mount Olympus indoor sports facility. Rain turned chilly. Josh and Jack were getting more and more attention. The two of them drew stares and whispers as the word spread about the seemingly unbeatable Titans U13 team.

  They got closer too. They talked about upcoming opponents and shared ideas on the pitchers they faced. With Jaden and Martin adding their knowledge, the whole thing felt like the big-time. Josh felt for certain they had a mini-version of the way things went in the majors, where strategy was as important as skill.

  His father’s life on the road recruiting, the construction delays, and weekend practice sessions with some fairly lame talent at Crosby seemed to be wearing him down. He sounded older and more tired than Josh ever remembered him being, but he loved to hear how well Josh was hitting and kept proud track of the home run count. By late October Josh had seventeen homers in his column and had also secured the promise that if he made it to the derby, his dad would get to Houston to do some recruiting and come watch him for sure.

  Jaden got a story into the Post-Standard when the Titans won the renowned Atlanta Young Sluggers tournament. She was excited that Josh got two home runs, bringing him to a total of nineteen, but she didn’t seem to care much about getting her story into print.