Mickey hated snitches. Tattletales, rats, squealers—whatever you called them, he couldn’t stand them.

He was steaming, angrier than he’d ever been on a baseball field. And all because of the most selfish, egotistical kid he’d ever seen in his life.

But if his dad wanted details about the pickoff fiasco and how a jittery batter who looked like he’d blow over in a stiff breeze somehow managed to get on base and score against a shutdown pitcher like Zoom, he’d have to get them from someone else.

And apparently his dad did want details.

“Zoom,” Coach said in a low voice, “step into my office for a moment.”

The two left the dugout and leaned against the chain-link fence a few feet away. The rest of the Orioles couldn’t hear what was being said. But they could see Coach listening intently, his arms folded across his chest as Zoom delivered an animated explanation.

When they returned, Zoom wore a smug look. And Coach was smiling.

Unreal, Mickey thought. Can’t wait to hear how Zoom spins this one.

He didn’t have to wait long.

A moment later, as he leaned over to loosen his shin guards, he felt a beefy hand on his back.

“Sounds like Zoom just lost his control for a moment,” his dad said. “It happens. And Ethan probably should have caught the pickoff throw, right? Anyway, no biggie. We move on.”

Mickey’s jaw dropped. He stared at his dad to see if this was some sort of joke.

Lost his control? Really? And he was blaming Ethan for the throw? When everyone on the field knew Shaquille O’Neal couldn’t have caught that ball if he were standing on a stepladder? And holding a butterfly net?

Mickey glanced at Zoom, who grinned. Then Zoom clamped a batting helmet on his head and headed out to the on-deck circle.

“Uh, that’s not exactly what happened—” Mickey started to say. But his dad was already jogging out to the third-base coach’s box with the Orioles coming to bat.

So apparently this discussion was over, too.

Great, he thought. Another good talk, Dad.

This time he grabbed his water bottle and fired it against the far wall.

“Whoa! Someone better work on his anger issues,” Gabe said, plopping down next to him. “Catcher’s mitt, water bottle—you’re two-for-two with the meltdowns.”

Mickey shook his head, but said nothing.

“Deep breaths, dude,” Gabe said, watching Zoom dig in at the plate now. “Don’t let that guy get to you.”

“Too late,” Mickey said between clenched teeth. “He got to me the first time I saw him.”

The Orioles padded their lead when Zoom hit a double down the left-field line and scored on Hunter’s single. One batter later, Katelyn smacked a towering home run over the right-field fence: 6–1 Orioles.

They were still high-fiving one another in the dugout when a clamor arose from the stands. Katelyn ran to the edge of the steps and peered out.

“Oh, you gotta see this!” she said. “Check out Tweedledee, Tweedledumb, and Tweedledumber.”

Mickey, Gabe, and Hunter hurried over and followed her gaze. There, at the top of the bleachers, was Zoom’s entourage. Only now the three boys were laughing uproariously and high-fiving one another.

“They actually show emotion?” Gabe said. “I thought they were robots. You know, like if you tore their shirts off and drilled a hole in their backs, you’d find a mass of wires and circuits instead of flesh and blood.”

“Keep watching, it gets better,” Katelyn said. “They’re doing a three-man wave! And I use the term three man loosely. It’s more like a three-dork wave.”

As if on cue, the boys sprang into action. One by one they leaped to their feet, threw their hands in the air, and shouted, “Wooooo!”

“I’m sorry,” Hunter said, “but that’s just wrong.”

“On so many levels,” Katelyn added.

The rest of the spectators were watching this strange show, too. Even the home-plate umpire was swiveling his neck between pitches to see what was happening.

Katelyn called down to the end of the bench, “Hey, Zoom, check it out! Your boys are going mental in the stands.”

With a puzzled look, Zoom sauntered over and peered up at the commotion. His face clouded. He put two fingers to his lips and delivered a piercing whistle.

When the boys looked over, Zoom made a quick slicing motion across his throat, the universal sign for Cut it out!

Immediately, the three sat down, looking chastened.

“Oooooh!” Hunter said. “Way to have major control over your peeps, Zoom!”

Zoom nodded with a satisfied smile. He sat back down without a word as the Orioles looked at one another.

“Wow, that was weird,” Sammy whispered.

“Oh, yeah,” Katelyn said. “Wonder if his dogs are that well trained.”

The rest of the game seemed to go by quickly. The Orioles added two more runs in the fourth, and Danny pitched the last three innings, allowing just two hits and one run to seal the 8–2 win.

As the two teams lined up to slap hands, Mickey did the math.

Three more wins and they’d have a shot at the league title. Which, of course, meant a shot at knocking off the Evil Empire, the powerful Huntington Yankees, who were—surprise!—undefeated and running away with their league championship again.

But once again, he didn’t feel like celebrating. All he knew at the moment was that he was hot and tired. And maybe for the first time in his life, he was happy the game was over.

Maybe a snowball will help, Mickey thought. And the truth was, it wouldn’t hurt to see Abby again. It had been fun talking to her last week. Any girl that threatened to clock you for not buying her product was definitely, well, interesting.

Mickey had to admit he’d thought of Abby often since that first meeting, even though between school and sports and his friends, he really didn’t have time for girls.

Not that a kid’s priorities couldn’t change at some point, he told himself.

As he walked toward the snowball stand a few minutes later, he could see that it was busy. Six or seven kids were scattered around the picnic tables out front, enjoying their frozen treats and the last warm rays of the sun.

As he rounded the corner, he saw that Abby was talking to someone at the counter. The person was obscured by the big cardboard floor sign that listed the flavors and prices. All Mickey could see was that Abby had her head thrown back and was laughing loudly, as if whatever she’d just heard was the funniest thing in the whole world.

Whoever was behind the sign took a step back and Mickey saw a sliver of an orange-and-black jersey and white uniform pants. Then a breeze blew the sign back and the mystery customer was revealed.

It was Zoom.

Mickey groaned. Just who I want to see…

When Abby looked up and saw Mickey, she smiled and waved.

“Look at this!” she said. “Two stars gracing my humble place of employment at the same time! Is this my lucky day or what?”

Zoom didn’t seem nearly as thrilled with the interruption.

“Well, if it isn’t my catcher,” he said in a loud voice. He walked up to Mickey and poked an index finger in his belly.

“Honest opinion, big man?” he said. “Forget the snowball. What you need is a salad, dude. With low-fat dressing.”

Abby gasped. Mickey felt his face get hot. From somewhere behind him, he heard guffaws. He turned and saw Zoom’s three buddies cracking up at one of the picnic tables.

Mickey slapped Zoom’s finger away and took a step toward him. Just then a car horn sounded and Zoom’s dad pulled up to the curb.

“Hate to eat and run, but what can you do?” Zoom said with a smirk. He spooned the last of his snowball, nodded to his buddies, and the four of them strutted away.

As Abby watched them leave, she said, “Okay, now I’m really beginning to sense a problem with your team…”

Mickey nodded slowly.

“Oh,” he said, “you have no idea.”