Alex had read about interventions. But they involved addicts—people who drank too much or were addicted to drugs.

“Aren’t interventions for people with addiction problems?” he said.

Steve smiled. So too, Alex noticed, did Christine.

“An intervention can be about almost anything,” Stevie said. “It just means that a group of people who care about someone get together to tell that person they think he or she needs help dealing with a problem. Matt has a problem that he didn’t create—except in the sense that he’s a very talented baseball player. But based on what Christine’s told me, he needs help with all that’s happening to him right now. Anyone his age would need help.”

“But who can help him?” Christine said. “We’re all teenagers too. Doesn’t this need an adult?”

“Adults, yes—more than one,” Stevie answered. “I know his dad’s not around and his mom doesn’t know much about sports.”

“And, like you said, Christine, if we involve Coach Birdy, Matt can brush him off, saying he just wants him back to pitch next season,” Alex said.

Stevie nodded. “Right. You need someone who is an expert on gifted athletes and what they deal with and has no agenda.”

“Any ideas?” Christine asked.

“Yup,” Stevie said. “Bryce Harper.”

“Bryce Harper?” they both said together.

Then Christine, speaking for Alex, added, “How are you going to get Bryce Harper to come and talk to Matt?”

“I’m not,” Stevie said. “I’m going to take Matt to talk to Bryce. The Nationals are coming to town next week to play the Phillies. We’ll do it then.”

“Before I even ask how you plan to pull that off, tell me why Bryce Harper,” Christine said.

“He was such a phenom that he graduated from high school two years early. Went to junior college for a year because he wasn’t draft-eligible yet. Then he was the number one pick in the draft, and five years later, he was one of the best players in baseball—the National League MVP.

“The difference is, his father’s been involved every step of the way. They dodged most—if not all—of the pitfalls of being a phenom. I can’t think of anyone better to tell someone like Matt that he needs to be careful who he gets involved with.”

“Okay, that’s a great why,” Alex said. “But how?”

“Getting Matt and Bryce together?” Stevie said. “Not that hard. I’ve dealt with Bryce a couple times. He’s actually a very good guy. When the Nats come here, I’ll arrange to get credentials for Matt, and I can take him to the clubhouse a few hours before a game so he can talk to Bryce.”

Alex couldn’t resist. “Can we go too?” he asked.

“Alex!” Christine said. “This isn’t about us.”

Stevie smiled. “I’m sure I can arrange for another student reporter and one of Matt’s teammates to come too. You guys will have to follow my lead when we get there. You can’t start asking for autographs or stuff like that.”

That was a little disappointing for Alex. He would have loved to have gotten an autograph from Daniel Murphy or Wilson Ramos or Ryan Zimmerman—even though he was a Red Sox fan. But Christine was right. This wasn’t about them.

Stevie Thomas’s presence at lunch meant that Alex and Christine never really got a chance to talk. She mentioned while they were eating that her dad was picking her up and she was spending the rest of the weekend with him. That eliminated any possibility of a movie or any discussion about whether their “break” was over. Alex figured he shouldn’t try to force anything.

“Give her space” was his new mantra.

On Monday, Christine told him she’d gotten an update from Stevie. The Phillies were playing an afternoon game on Saturday against the Nationals. Stevie had made arrangements for Matt, Christine, and Alex to get press passes so they could go see Harper in the clubhouse at Citizens Bank Park at ten in the morning.

“Stevie said Saturday is good because it’s a day game after a night game, so the Nationals won’t be taking batting practice,” she said. “Bryce should have time before the game to talk.”

“So what do we tell Matt?” Alex asked.

“Basically, I’m going to tell him the truth: Stevie knows Bryce and thought he’d want to talk to him since he left high school early.”

“You think Matt will buy that?”

“What’s to buy?” she said. “It’s the truth. Besides—who wouldn’t jump at the chance to talk to a major leaguer?”

Alex decided there was no point debating with her since he was fairly certain she’d be able to talk Matt into going. But he suspected Matt might have a more complicated reaction than she expected.

The conference home opener against Bryn Mawr Tech brought out masses of people—fans and the media—especially since Matt was scheduled to pitch.

He didn’t disappoint. He gave up two hits all afternoon—a bunt single in the first inning and a long home run in the fourth by Bryn Mawr’s cleanup hitter, Malcolm Folley, whom Alex remembered as a linebacker from football season. Folley timed a fastball perfectly and hit it way over the left field fence. Alex started back when the ball came off the bat but quickly realized he would need a jetpack to get anywhere close to it.

But Chester Heights scored three runs in the first inning—two on a long double by Matt that drove in Cardillo and Alex, both of whom had walked. And then in the fifth, Matt—as if to prove he could match anything that anyone else did on the field—hit a home run of his own that also went way over the left field fence.

Matt was still pitching in the seventh, and he ended the game by striking Folley out on three pitches. The first two were fastballs—one a called strike, the other a foul ball straight back. The third pitch was a classic “twelve-to-six” curveball—a pitch that started as if it was going to hit the batter in the head, then broke down and away, crossing the strike zone at about knee height. Folley almost broke his back flailing at it.

The final score was 4–1, Chester Heights. Alex knew that Bryn Mawr had finished third in the conference the previous season behind Chester and Haverford Station, so this was a good win to start the conference season.

Alex noticed that Matt’s postgame session was now divided into not one, not two, but three different groups. First came TV and radio—one of the cameras said ESPN. Apparently Matt was going national.

Jonas, who never missed anything, nudged Alex. “ESPN. What do you think about that?”

“Better ESPN than CNN,” Alex said, thinking back to the fall. “As long as the story is just about Matt’s pitching and hitting, it’s fine.”

After TV and radio finished, the print guys would close in—no doubt wanting more detailed answers than Matt had given on camera.

And, finally, the acolytes—scouts and agents—would get their turn with the new prince of Philadelphia baseball.

Alex and Jonas were walking past the dugout on their way back to the locker room when Alex noticed Bailey Warner standing on the top step. Alex hadn’t seen Warner at all—not even in the hallways—since Coach Birdy had first told them about his shoulder problems. Warner’s arm was in a sling.

“Bailey, what’s with the sling?” Jonas said. “Where have you been hiding?”

Warner smiled wanly. “I’ve been around,” he said. “I’ve gotten a couple cortisone shots in the shoulder. The doctor wants me to wear the sling so I’m not tempted to use it and hurt myself. He’s hoping that if I rest it completely for about a week, then rehab it, I won’t need surgery.”

“What kind of surgery?” Alex asked.

“Rotator cuff,” Warner said. “They did four different MRIs and still aren’t sure why it’s hurting me. The doctor finally said that a couple of my rotator cuff bands are probably just worn down from throwing.”

“Rotator cuff bands?” Jonas asked.

“Yeah, you’ve got four in each shoulder that make up the cuff,” Warner said. “Sometimes they just wear down, and sometimes they pop. When they pop, you have no choice but to have surgery.”

“So does that mean you can’t pitch again?”

Warner shook his head. “Means I have to rest. The doctor said give it two, three weeks and then see how it feels after rehab. Meanwhile”—he nodded in Matt’s direction—“it doesn’t look like you guys need me much anyway.”

Alex laughed. “Oh no, we need you. We’ll especially need you as the season goes along.”

Warner rubbed his left arm against the sling for a moment.

“I thought this was going to be my year to be the number one starter,” he said. “Even if I can get healthy, I’ll probably be no better than number three. Matt’s a star, and from what I’ve heard, Alex, you aren’t that far behind.”

“I’m way behind,” Alex said, not being modest. “And I’m behind you too when you’re healthy.” On that, he was being modest. He thought he might be a better pitcher than Warner based on what little he’d seen. Then again, Warner had probably been pitching with a sore shoulder all spring.

“Thanks for that, Alex. But right now, I just want to pitch,” Warner said. “Give me an inning out of the bullpen and I’ll be happy.”

Someone up in the stands was calling Warner’s name.

“Gotta go,” he said. “I can’t drive with the sling, so my mom’s waiting.” He paused like he wanted to say more but just said, “Keep it going, guys. Keep winning.” Then he turned and walked away.

Alex and Jonas were both quiet. “It’s not fair, you know,” Jonas said.

“You mean about him being hurt?”

“Yeah, that’s part of it,” Jonas said. “But it’s also not fair that he’s been completely forgotten because he’s hurt and Matt’s now everybody’s hero again.”

“Bothers you?” Alex said.

Jonas paused. “Yeah—a little bit, at least. Matt cheated. I know why he cheated, and he showed guts admitting it—even though he was gonna get caught anyway. I’m not saying he’s a bad guy, but…”

“But a cheater shouldn’t be a hero?”

“Do you think he should?”

Alex looked back at Matt. The print media had started moving away, and he could see the guys in the business suits and sweat suits—the agents and the scouts—moving in.

“You know, he’s been through a lot too,” Alex said. “His father’s out of his life, and even though he might be a jerk at times, it’s tough losing your father.”

“You can relate, huh?” Jonas said.

“Yeah,” Alex said. “I can relate.”