Barry looked up and saw T.V. Adams motioning Tootsie Malone to back up toward the fence. T.V. did that a lot. He seemed to have a real knack for predicting where the opposing batters were going to hit the ball.
As usual, he was right on the button. Arnie Nobles, the Junk Shop’s leadoff batter, had blasted a home run his first time up, and it looked as if he was ready to do it again. He was a tall kid and had a lot of power in his swing.
Crack! He connected a two-two pitch for a long drive toward deep left field, just as T.V. had figured he might. If Tootsie hadn’t played deep, the ball would have gone over his head for at least a triple. But Tootsie only had to take two steps back, raise his gloved hand, and catch it.
Neither team scored again. The game went to Belk’s Junk Shoppers, 6 to 5.
“Well, it made no difference anyway,” Susan said as she and Tommy walked home with Barry.
“What made no difference?” Barry asked.
“That you missed the ball,” she said. “We lost anyway.”
He glared at her. “Will you stop saying that?” he snapped. “You weren’t there; I was. And the ump called the guy out. That’s it.”
“I saw you drop it,” Susan said evenly. “And I know you like to cheat.”
“I do not!” he almost shouted. “Why do you say that?”
“Because it’s true,” Susan said. “Whenever we play board games, you —”
“Okay, okay!” Barry cut her off short. “Maybe I do cheat sometimes, but not all the time. And I don’t do it to hurt anybody.”
“Maybe not. But you hate to lose,” Susan argued. “And if you can cheat a little, and make up your own rules —”
“You sound like Coach Parker,” Barry interrupted her again. He tried not to let her arguments get under his skin, but he couldn’t help it. “He said something to me about making up my own rules, too. What’s wrong with liking to win, anyway? Everybody likes to win, don’t they?”
“Yes. But not by cheating.”
His face burned. Cheating. He was really beginning to hate that word. “Just don’t say anything about it to Mom and Dad,” he said gruffly. “I don’t want them jumping on my back, too.”
Susan shrugged. “Okay by me. It’s your problem, not mine.”
Barry looked at her a long minute. He thought he’d feel better after she said that, but he didn’t. He felt worse.
At dinner, Barry’s father didn’t lose any time asking about the game. “How’d it come out?” he wanted to know.
“They lost!” Tommy yelled.
Everyone laughed. Tommy didn’t talk a lot, but whenever he did he made a point.
“You’re pretty quiet, Barry,” Mr. McGee observed. “Didn’t you get any hits?”
“Two singles and a walk,” he answered.
“Great!” His father beamed.
“And I made a tough catch,” Barry went on. He thought he could feel Susan’s eyes on him, but she was calmly eating. Suddenly Barry didn’t have much of an appetite.
“Well, that’s good work, son,” Mr. McGee said proudly.
“There’s more. I dropped it …, ” Barry confessed. “But I pretended I didn’t.”