CHAPTER 5

DISTRACTED

Because they were the home team, the Scottsville Knights took the field first.

Ian strapped on his leg guards and slid his chest plate over his head. Then he walked out to the field, crouched down behind the plate, and secured the mask over his face.

But Ian couldn’t focus. His mind was reeling as he thought about Hunter stealing his dad’s baseball and selling it at a pawnshop or something.

I’m never going to get the ball back, Ian thought. He stared out at the mound. Hunter stood there, playfully smacking a ball into his new glove.

Hunter wound up and sent the ball over the plate. His first practice pitch bounced off Ian’s mitt and skittered away.

“Sorry!” Ian called, chasing down the ball. He shook his head, trying to clear it.

Moments later, the game started. The first batter for the Crickets stepped into the batter’s box. The first pitch was a smoking fastball. The batter swung and missed. On the second pitch, he made contact. The ball dribbled just a few feet off the plate.

Ian leaped to his feet. He grabbed the ball and threw it to first. But his throw was high, and it sailed over Willie’s head.

The batter easily advanced to second.

“That’s all right!” Coach Frey shouted. “Shake it off, Ian.”

Ian couldn’t, though. The next batter connected for a hit to right field, and the base runner dashed for home. The throw to home plate was spot-on, but Ian let it bounce away from him.

The Crickets took an early 1–0 lead.

It was almost like Hunter could sense that Ian was distracted. His pitching over the next few innings was wild. By the end of the fourth inning, the Crickets were leading 4–0.

In the bottom of the fourth, Ian was the second person up to bat. He shed his catcher’s gear, grabbed a bat and helmet, and stepped into the on-deck circle. The dugout was silent.

Matt was the first batter. The speedster sent the first pitch down the right field line for a stand-up triple.

That woke up the dugout and the crowd, who cheered and clapped.

“Way to rip it, Matt!” Willie shouted.

Ian stepped up to the plate next. He’d already struck out once, back in the first inning. He needed a good on-base hit to redeem himself.

The first pitch was high, but Ian swung anyway. His hit sailed over the backstop behind him.

“Foul ball!” the umpire shouted.

The second pitch caught the corner of the plate.

“Strike two!”

Ian could feel the frustration in his gut. He never struck out. He was a great hitter. How could he possibly — smack!

The pitcher sent a fastball down the heart of the plate.

“Strike three! You’re out!”

Ian slunk back to the dugout. He threw his bat and helmet down in anger.

“Are you okay?” Willie asked.

Ian shook his head. “I think Hunter stole my dad’s baseball,” he said quietly. “I can’t stop thinking about it.”

“What do you mean?” Willie asked.

“I think he stole it, sold it, and bought his new glove with the money,” Ian explained. “Remember how he went back inside? He had the opportunity.”

“What about my new glove?” Hunter asked. He stood nearby, his hands clenched into fists at his side.

Oh no, Ian thought. He heard me.

“Dude, did you take Ian’s dad’s baseball the other night?” Willie asked abruptly.

“What?” Hunter said, shocked. “I didn’t take anything.”

“Then how could you afford such a nice glove?” Ian asked.

Hunter didn’t answer. His jaw tightened, and his cheeks burned red. He stomped toward Ian and shoved him with both hands, right in the chest.

Ian stumbled backward, tripped over the bench, and fell onto his back in the dirt.