CHAPTER 9

That night Mr. Gordon called to tell me that I’d made the All-Star game.

“Gee, thanks,” I told him, tripping over my words. “I’ll make you glad that you picked me!” Ick! I could have kicked myself for saying such a dumb thing.

“I’m sure you will, Adam,” he answered kindly. “The game’s scheduled for next Thursday. At five o’clock at your school field. The play-offs are Monday and Tuesday evening. Hope it doesn’t rain, because if it does, everything gets thrown off schedule.”

I was all set to say good-bye when Mr. Gordon cleared his throat. “I couldn’t help noticing the fracas at practice today. You and Eddie looked pretty angry. I—er, hope you two are still friends.”

“Sure we are,” I answered quickly.

“Eddie’s a good kid,” Mr. Gordon said with a forced laugh, the kind adults make when they say something that really isn’t true, “but he gets upset too easily. Then he opens his big mouth and tells people off. He’s lost enough friends that way. But I know he really likes you, Adam. He’s told me so many times.”

“Yeah, I know,” I said politely. I couldn’t bring myself to tell him about the squirrel. “Well, good night, Mr. Gordon.”

“Good night, Adam. See you on Saturday.” I hung up wondering about Eddie and his father. That afternoon Eddie was definitely afraid of him. Mr. Gordon was the sergeant type, always serious and tough. I knew he was always hardest on Eddie during practice, but I’d never thought anything of it. Now that I thought about it, Eddie would cringe whenever his father told him to step into the pitch or hold his mitt lower. I wondered if Mr. Gordon expected too much from Eddie, the way Mom sometimes expected too much from Jeremy, thinking he’d be all right with time and tutors. Then I thought of all the bad things Eddie had done and wondered what his father would do if he found out about them.

* * *

Saturday’s game was the crucial one for us. If we beat the Starlight Delis, it meant that we’d be in fourth place and in next week’s play-offs. Our team got to the field early so we’d be warmed up and ready to play our best.

I was pitching to Richie when I heard a girl call out: “Hi, Adam.”

Then a familiar laugh.

I looked over to where the other team’s parents and friends were gathering and saw Patty waving. I don’t know why I was amazed to see her. Kerry, her brother, was the Starlight Delis’ catcher. I waved back, then threw a fastball to Richie. It was wide.

“Good luck!” she called out just as Richie yelled to me to watch what I was doing. I felt nervous, yet more determined than ever to pitch well today.

To make a long story short, we lost the game 5–4. We all felt bad but, as Mr. Gordon said afterward, we’d played a good game. I knew I’d pitched well, but the thing I was happiest about was that I didn’t let Eddie get to me. When he razzed me for walking two men in a row in the second inning, which I did, and for throwing wild when I was shortstop and he was pitcher—covering first on a play—which I didn’t, I just ignored him. Each time he shut up quickly when he saw he couldn’t get a rise out of me.

So this is the way to do it, I thought. How did I ever let him get under my skin the other times? I was too busy concentrating on the game to give it much thought, but I knew it had something to do with the fact that before his opinion meant a lot to me and now it didn’t. Still, it made me feel kind of sad. Like I’d lost something.

Since it was our last game as a team, we all decided to go for ice cream at Friendly’s with our families. Everyone was for the idea. Everyone, that was, but Jeremy.

“I don’t want to go,” he whined like a five-year-old. “They’re not my team and I don’t care about them.”

“Well, it’s my team and I want to go.” I turned to Dad, who had left work early to watch my last game. “We can go, can’t we?”

“I’m not going,” Jeremy insisted. “Take me home first.”

Dad tried to cajole him. “Come on, Jeremy. Since when do you turn down an offer of ice cream? I thought you loved the stuff.”

“I do, but not when that creep Eddie Gordon goes along.”

“But he’s part of the team; you know that,” Mom said patiently. She still couldn’t bring herself to believe that he’d do a thing like that—not a well-brought-up boy who’d been to her house.

“Well, I’m not going,” Jeremy screamed at the top of his voice.

“Shut up,” I yelled back, ready to hit him. “You ruin every good time for me.” Everyone was heading for the parking lot. As usual, I was going to be left out because of my stupid brother.

Dad grabbed my arm to stop me from punching Jeremy. It was then that I noticed Eddie watching us from a distance, grinning. I felt sick.

I ended up going to Friendly’s with Danny and his family. Our group took over the whole place. It looked like everyone was having a good time laughing and talking. Not me. I just sat there, feeling awkward and strange. Whenever Jeremy threw one of his tantrums I was forced to own up to the truth—because of him my family was different from everyone else’s. You never knew when he’d get upset and carry on. Actually, it didn’t happen very often anymore. The trouble was, there was no predicting when it would happen. But when it did and other people were around, I wanted to murder him and disappear at the same time. Being Jeremy’s brother was a royal pain in the neck.

* * *

There were only two more weeks of school. We hardly did any work anymore, which was a good thing since none of us could concentrate with all the great activities coming up: the All-Star game, the play, the class party, and graduation. Now that the sets were finished, Danny and I fell into the habit of watching the play rehearsals after school. We didn’t watch, really, but talked with Patty and Michelle until it was time for them to say their parts on stage. Monday and Tuesday evenings Danny and I went to watch the Little League play-offs. The Lawson Cleaners won, beating the Starlight Delis 7–5 in a very exciting game.

Wednesday afternoon we played softball after school. Eddie was there, too, but it was no problem. We simply avoided each other. Silently, I complimented myself for acting so “maturely,” as Mom would say. We both lived in the same neighborhood, didn’t we? I couldn’t very well tell him to get lost and he couldn’t tell me to, either. Once I caught him staring at me, a sneer on his mean little face all covered with freckles. Well, let him, I thought.

After dinner that evening Mom called to Jeremy to come and talk to her and Dad out on the terrace. He walked past me in the den, a funny expression on his face. I turned the TV down low so I could hear what was wrong. Dad was sitting in a lounge chair, looking sad. But Mom was boiling mad. She started lacing it into Jeremy for playing with Tommy Stein, after being told not to so many times. It seemed she happened to turn down Tommy’s street and caught them playing out front.

Even from a distance I could see that Jeremy had turned a bright red. “Aw, Mom, I had nothing to do so I went bike riding. Tommy just happened to be there so we started playing.”

“You shouldn’t be out bike riding. You should be home studying for your finals. You know that.”

“I did study. With Mrs. Dawson. I just needed a break.”

“I distinctly told you not to play with Tommy Stein, didn’t I? He’s much too young for you.”

Jeremy stood there with his head hanging. I felt kind of sorry for him. He had no friends besides Tommy. Just his garden and his Beatles records.

“If I find out that you’ve gone there again, you’ll be grounded. For a month.” She shot out the last three words like bullets.

Jeremy jerked up his head in surprise. “But Mom, I have—”

“That’s enough, Jeremy,” Mom broke in sharply. “I don’t want to hear another word about that child.”

Jeremy nodded. He looked like he was about to cry. Then he walked toward the glass doors. I turned quickly so he’d think I’d been watching TV all this time, but he didn’t even notice me as he passed through the den on his way to his room. I braced myself for the bang of his door but none came. Funny. Jeremy always slammed his door when he was mad.

The next day, Thursday, the temperature hit the mid-nineties. It was the hottest day of the year so far. The sun was still broiling in the late afternoon when I put on my uniform. I hated having to wear a baseball uniform in 90-degree weather. But it was worth it, to be in the All-Star game, even though I’d found out the day after Mr. Gordon called that the only reason Danny and I were in the game was because both Richie and Jeff couldn’t make it. Of course, Eddie and Mark, our team’s best players, would be there.

As soon as I got to the school field, Mr. Gordon saw me and handed me a new baseball cap for the game. Proudly, I put it on. Mom and Dad had promised to come and watch the game as soon as they got home from work. That was fine with me, since if I ever got to pitch it would be late in the game. I had no idea where Jeremy had disappeared to. I certainly didn’t expect him to show up at the game.

It was a different experience playing in the All-Star game. First of all, all the boys on both teams were good players. In fact, I sat out part of the game. But, as it turned out, I got to pitch two innings and managed to get two strikeouts in a row each inning. The crowd cheered, especially Danny and Patty and my parents, who arrived just as I’d started to pitch, so everything was great—as far as I was concerned. Our team lost the game but I didn’t care. Just playing in the All-Star game was an experience I’d never forget.

After the game ended, a little after seven o’clock, we went home to get Jeremy and then went out to have dinner at a diner. I just loved walking into the diner in my All-Star cap. The place was pretty full. I spotted a kid wearing an All-Star cap sitting with his family. I hardly knew him, except that his name was Darren and he was in seventh grade.

As soon as we sat down at our booth, Dad started telling me what a great pitcher I was. The waitress brought our menus but he didn’t stop praising me. He mentioned the possibility of my going to baseball camp in August. I really ate it up, since Dad didn’t usually get this excited, and the idea of getting away for two weeks sounded great, until I noticed Jeremy staring at me. Glaring at me, I should say, with something like hate in his eyes.

“I’m hungry,” he announced loudly, “and I’m sick and tired of hearing how wonderful Adam is.”

“Let’s order,” Mom said, trying to be a peacemaker, but Dad got annoyed.

“Wait a minute,” he said. “Adam just pitched in an All-Star game and he did a darn good job of it.”

Jeremy flung out his hands, almost knocking over his water. “But how many times do you have to say it? It’s really very boring, you know,” he practically shouted. The man behind us turned to stare at him.

I cringed. Not again, I prayed. Just then the waitress walked over. “Are you folks ready to order?” She seemed to be about college age and had a real smile on her face.

Before Dad had a chance to tell her to come back in a few minutes so he could lecture Jeremy, I spoke up.

“I’ll have a cheeseburger and a Coke. And fried onion rings.”

Jeremy ordered the same. Then Mom ordered roast chicken, so Dad said he’d have his usual—the fisherman’s platter. By the time the waitress left, Dad and Jeremy had cooled down. But instead of leaving things be, Mom had to go ahead and make matters worse.

“Let’s get something straight, Jeremy,” she said firmly, looking my brother in the eye. “We’re proud of Adam for playing well. Just as we’re proud of you when you do something well. Like getting a good grade on a test.”

“Come on,” Jeremy groaned. “When are you going to let up? I told you I studied for that science test. Yesterday with Mrs. Dawson and all afternoon today.”

I looked at Jeremy. That didn’t sound like him, studying all afternoon, but I didn’t make a joke about it, or even mention that he wasn’t home when I’d left for the game. From the way he’d been acting these last couple of days, all excitable and irritable, I figured he’d only explode. I glanced at the kid who’d been in the All-Star game with me. He was sitting a few booths away. We could do very nicely without another of Jeremy’s outbursts.

He behaved himself for the rest of the meal, although I was sure he was going to let loose when Dad reprimanded him for smearing tons of ketchup on his hamburger. We were allowed to pick whatever dessert we wanted. I chose blueberry crumb pie with vanilla ice cream. Jeremy got some gooey chocolate cake that kept him happy while he was eating it. Of course Mom and Dad both said no at the same time when he asked for another piece. I sighed as we got back into the car. Eating out with Jeremy wasn’t much fun.

The phone was ringing when we walked into the house. Since I was the first one in, I raced into the kitchen and picked up the receiver.

“Adam? It’s me. Danny.”

Something was wrong.

“Joe, the school custodian, just called me. The sets are ruined.”

He wailed out the last word and sobbed for a few minutes before I could get anything else out of him. What could he mean, the sets were ruined? They were in the auditorium, on the stage. I didn’t know if anyone bothered to actually lock the auditorium, but people were in and out of it all day. Besides, Joe was there after school.

“Are you sure?” I asked, certain he was mistaken.

“Of course I’m sure. Joe noticed all the lights on on the stage, so he went inside to turn them off. Somebody threw the sets down and spilled red paint all over them. Every one of them.” He started wailing again.

I felt sick. All those hours of work. Why, it took Danny days just to draw each of the sets.

“But who would do such a horrible thing?” I asked.

“I don’t know,” he said, “but just let me get my hands on him. I’ll kill him, that’s what I’ll do.”

I hung up, shaken. What would they do about the play? It was less than a week away. I turned and noticed my parents and Jeremy staring at me.

“What’s wrong, Adam?” Mom asked.

“Someone destroyed the sets. Poured red paint on them.”

“That’s despicable!” Dad exclaimed. Mom put her arm around me.

Jeremy had a little smile on his face. “Those are the breaks of the game,” he said. He went upstairs to his room.

I felt like smashing his face in.