LET ME TELL YOU how things turned out. The vote passed. The leprechauns turned Dodger back into himself, so Lizzie didn’t even have to kiss him to break the frog spell. Beeks, Beeks, Beeks, and Son traded the forest to the town in exchange for the square block of valuable downtown real estate. The town promised to leave the forest undeveloped forever, and named the area the Beeks, Beeks, Beeks, and Son Blue Frog Preserve. The Great Lasorda got to keep the money he got for selling the forest. The leprechauns got a free, safe place to live. The student council got a huge blue plaque from the mayor and the town council. Mrs. Starsky was really, really proud. I have a feeling she didn’t erase the webcam recording, though—just in case.
And that’s not all. Amy got to keep her title as Queen of the Leprechauns. That might not seem like much, but it comes with some cool benefits. Here’s the best one: Every once in a while, when Amy runs a little short on cash, she leaves a pair of shoes under her bed. And I’m not going to tell you that the leprechauns fill her shoes with fairy gold or anything—that would just be too crazy. But all I know is that I have the only little sister in town who can afford her own state-of-the-art detective lab. Plus some pocket money for ice cream.
The Great Lasorda is doing all right, too. He argued and complained a lot about having to share his forest with the leprechauns for all eternity, but really, I think that ever since everybody stopped arguing about who owes what, he and his new partners, Rodger and Dodger, enjoy the company.
Speaking of company, one day in early spring, I was walking home alone through the forest, and suddenly found that James Beeks was walking along next to me. “You know,” he said, “I guess you and Lizzie were right: The woods are kind of cool after all.” There was a red-and-white fast-food bag blocking the path in front of us, and Beeks started to step around it. Then he looked at me sheepishly, bent over, and picked up the bag. “Still,” he said, “having my own private place to practice baseball would have been awesome.”
That was when I got a crazy idea. It was nutty to even think about, because Beeks and I had always been enemies. But on the other hand, he had kind of helped us to save the forest. And he had admitted Lizzie and I were right about something. And he had even picked up trash in the woods without being ordered to. Before I could think twice, I said, “You know, James, I know a field where we can practice baseball all we want.”
He looked at me like I had suddenly grown a pair of bug antennae from my head. “You mean, together?”
I nodded.
“Really?”
I nodded again.
He thought this over and said, “Is the field any good?”
I didn’t reply, because I didn’t have to. I just turned down the little side path that led to the Field of Dreams. James might have muttered a little under his breath, but he followed me. When we broke out of the trees and into the clearing, he looked around in awe. “How—” he started to ask.
“It’s a really long story, James.”
Beeks rubbed his eyes, looked around again, and said, “And this is really all yours?”
“And yours, whenever you need a place to work out. I mean, if you want to. We could get ready for the season together.”
“I guess I can give it a try,” James said. “But, um, does this mean we’re, like, friends?”
“Believe me,” I said, “stranger things have been known to happen.” With that, I walked over to the equipment locker behind the backstop and threw him a glove. He caught it and smiled.
Lizzie and I are still best friends, of course. She’s trying to convince me to run for president of the sixth grade when we get to middle school. I tell her we’ll see what happens. But she knows as well as I do that I’ll probably give in.
My dad is still waiting for my book notes about the quest to save the forest. I told him I’m still polishing them up, but that I’ll let him know when they’re ready for the world to read them.
Yeah, right.
In the meantime, if you aren’t sure you believe me about all of this, you can come visit the Beeks, Beeks, Beeks, and Son Blue Frog Preserve. If you’re brave enough, and your heart is pure enough, you can start picking up any pieces of litter you see there. Then, if you listen very, very carefully, you might just be lucky enough to hear the strange sound of the blue frog calling out to his missing queen: Du-u-ude! Du-u-ude!
Or maybe that’s just Dodger playing baseball.