Liam glanced at the clock. It read 1:32, two minutes later than when he’d last looked at it and thirty-two minutes past the time Melanie had scheduled the joint interview with Phillip.
Melanie paced back and forth through the living room. “Try calling him again.”
Liam dialed the DiMaggios’ home number. “Voice mail again,” he said, holding the phone out so she could hear the recording. He hung up without leaving a message. He’d already left three, after all, so what was the point of another?
“I can’t believe you don’t have his cell number,” Melanie fumed.
“Well, I don’t,” he answered peevishly. “I mean, come on, we barely talked to each other until yesterday, so why would I?”
She threw her hands up in the air and then flopped down in an oversize sofa chair. “Talk about a total bust. I—”
The doorbell rang.
“He’s here!” Melanie sprang up to answer it. She returned looking put out. “It’s just the Driscolls.”
“Great to see you, too,” Sean said, taking the seat she had vacated. He gestured to the video camera set up at one end of the room. “What’s with that?”
Liam explained about the interview.
“Huh, that’s weird,” Rodney said. “We just saw Phillip and he didn’t say anything about it.”
“You saw him? Where?” Melanie asked eagerly.
“At the Bergs. We were all visiting Owen.”
“Maybe he’s going to come here afterward,” Liam ventured.
“Doubt it,” Sean said matter-of-factly. “He and Owen were about to watch a movie. A trilogy, actually. He didn’t say anything about an interview.” He gave a lazy stretch. “So, got anything to eat? How about a plate of nachos with melted cheese and salsa and a side of sour cream and that guacamole your mom always has in the fridge? I’ll wait here while you make it.”
Happy for an excuse to hide his disappointment, Liam went to the kitchen to fix Sean his snack. When he returned, he found the Driscolls and Melanie gathered around the television. Melanie had rigged up her camera to play videos on the big screen. She gave her brother a sly smile and opened a file marked “Bloopers: Liam.”
Liam cringed, certain the clip would show him messing up during baseball games. Instead, he saw a compilation of him acting goofy—like when he answered her question with his mouth full of chewed-up bagel. She’d added voice-over commentary to some moments, which just made the video that much funnier.
“This is hilarious! Tell me Carter’s seen it,” Rodney said, wiping away tears of laughter.
“Tell me he hasn’t!” Liam said.
“Not yet,” Melanie teased.
“What else do you have?” Sean wanted to know.
Melanie scrolled through her file list. “No more bloopers, but I do have montages of each player.”
“Montages, awesome,” Sean said. Then after a pause he asked, “What’s a montage?”
She laughed. “It’s a bunch of different clips of a subject that flow into one another. Look, here’s what I’ve got for Rodney so far.”
She tapped an icon and Rodney’s image appeared.
“Oooh, who is that handsome devil?” Rodney said, preening. “Look, there he is again! And again! And—ew, gross! What am I doing?”
The video showed him standing in the outfield and examining something in his armpit. Whatever it was seemed to fascinate him, because the clip went on for several seconds, much to Liam and Sean’s delight. When it finally ended, they applauded.
“That’ll end up on the cutting-room floor, right?” Rodney asked hopefully.
“If you’re very, very nice to me,” Melanie answered, “maybe.”
The boys pestered her to share more montages, but she refused. “You’ll have to wait for the movie,” she said primly. “Now shoo. I got an idea while I was watching these and want to get working on it.”
Grumbling, the boys got up. “What do you feel like doing?” Rodney asked.
Liam knew what he wanted to do. “Let’s go see Owen.”
When the Driscolls protested that they’d already been, Liam told them they didn’t have to stay. “Just show me where he lives,” he said as he got his bike from the garage.
Ten minutes later he coasted into the Bergs’ driveway, waving good-bye as the Driscolls continued on their way. Liam knocked on the front door. A short, stout woman with dark hair piled on top of her head in a messy bun answered. Liam introduced himself and she showed him to the basement rec room. He found Owen and Phillip sitting on a sofa, watching their movie.
“Hey, guys, how are—”
“Shhh!” Owen, eyes glued to the screen, patted the air to hush Liam. “Best part.”
Phillip didn’t say a word.
Liam stood awkwardly. After a minute he slid into a chair and tried to figure out the movie’s plot. Near as he could tell, the story line featured huge explosions, fast car chases, and a deadly robot.
He tried to catch Phillip’s eye. But Phillip was apparently too engrossed in the action to notice.
Or maybe, a little voice inside Liam said, he’s ignoring you. Liam shifted uncomfortably. The longer Phillip kept his eyes on the screen, the more confused Liam became.
Where was the friendly boy who’d celebrated victory with him just the day before? He seemed to have vanished. In his place was the pitcher who had given him the cold shoulder for the past weeks.
The scene finally ended with the destruction of the robot. The movie ended there, too. Owen clicked off the television, stretched his arms over the back of the sofa, and acknowledged Liam with a jerk of his head.
Liam asked him how he was feeling.
Owen touched his abdomen gingerly. “Tired of itchy stitches. Bummed I’m out of the game. Happy I’ll be in the dugout.”
Liam blinked. “In the dugout?”
“Suiting up and sitting with you guys, yeah.” He nudged Phillip and grinned. “You and me side by side. Running commentary on the action. Just like old times, huh, DiMadge?”
Phillip flicked a cool gaze at Liam and then smiled at Owen. “You know it, IceBerg.” He stood up and moved to the television. “Now how about we plug in the sequel? I’ve got a feeling that robot isn’t really dead.”
Owen winged a DVD case to Phillip. “Do it.”
“Well,” Liam said, “since I missed the first one, I guess I’ll be going.” He waited a beat to see if either boy would invite him to stay. Neither did. Phillip didn’t even turn around from the DVD player. So Liam got up, climbed the stairs, and left. He pedaled for home slowly, mystified and a little hurt by Phillip’s behavior.
What happened? Did I do something to make him angry? Is that why he’s acting so weird? He racked his brain, turning over everything he’d done or said since the previous day’s celebration, but he couldn’t come up with an answer. Finally, he gave up.
“Did you find Phillip? Is he coming over today?” Melanie asked when he entered the house.
He shook his head.
She sighed heavily and returned to the computer. “Okay, we’ll reschedule the interview. By the way,” she added, “Mom called. She says to clean your room because, and I quote, ‘if she finds one more open bag of chips under your bed, she’s going to take away all your furniture and make you sleep on the bare floor.’ ” She tossed him a smile over her shoulder.
“Okay,” Liam said, only half-listening. He started up to his room, though, to do as his mother asked.
“One more thing,” she called after him. “I sent that blooper clip to Carter. Just thought you should know, in case he calls up laughing hysterically.”
Liam paused halfway up the stairs. Carter.
Last night Phillip had seemed surprised to learn that he and Carter were in touch regularly. Could that possibly be what was bugging him? And if so, why?
Try as he might, he couldn’t figure that out. But one thing was for sure: He had to get to the bottom of it, and soon. If not, he could kiss any kind of synchronicity with Phillip good-bye. And if they weren’t in sync…
It’ll be good-bye, postseason; hello, sidelines.