Manny’s blood turned to ice water. For one agonizing moment, he couldn’t move or speak, just stare down at his friend’s unmoving body.
Sean sprinted up beside him. “Is he okay? He’s got to be okay! I didn’t know he wasn’t looking! I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry!” he babbled, his voice choked with fear.
That broke the spell that held Manny. “Quiet!” he said sharply. Sean’s mouth snapped shut. “Hey, Stu, can you hear me?”
There was only a faint sigh that could have been Stu or the wind in the trees. Then Stu groaned and pushed himself up.
“Take it slow!” Manny said anxiously. “Maybe you should just lie still.”
But Stu had already rolled over to a sitting position. He blinked rapidly but didn’t look at Manny or Sean. He didn’t say anything to them, either. In fact, it seemed as though he didn’t even know they were there.
Then, finally, his dazed expression started to clear. He raised a shaky hand to his head.
“Oh, man,” he mumbled as his fingers brushed the sore spot. “That’s going to leave a lump.” He looked up at Manny with a wan smile. “Did you get the number of the truck that hit me?”
Until that moment, Manny hadn’t realized he was holding his breath. Now hearing his friend make a joke, he let it out in a long, relieved whoosh. Together, he and Sean helped Stu to his feet and walked him to the bleachers.
“Where’s my hat?” Stu asked as he sat down. Manny saw it lying in the dirt by the backstop. The ball had knocked it clean off his head!
“I’ll get it,” Sean said. He seemed eager to be away from Stu—and Manny couldn’t blame him. He himself felt guilty for not convincing Stu to wear his helmet. How much worse would it have felt to have caused his injury?
Sean returned with the baseball cap. Stu took it but didn’t put it on. He just sat there looking at it.
“Guess we should call it a day, huh?” Manny finally said.
Sean nodded and stood up. So did Stu, but he’d barely gotten his feet under him when he lost his balance and listed to one side. He clutched Manny’s arm to steady himself.
“Whoa!” he said shakily. “Who moved the ground?”
Fear pricked at Manny again. He helped Stu sit down and then grabbed his cell phone and dialed the Fletchers’ home phone number. After four rings, however, the call went to voice mail.
“This is the Fletcher residence,” the recorded message said pleasantly. “No one is home right now. Please leave a—”
With a grunt of frustration, Manny hung up.
“Stu,” he said, “what’s your mom’s cell phone number?”
Stu rubbed his eyes with his fingertips, blinked a few times, and then stared at Manny. “Huh? Why do you want my mom’s cell number?”
“So I can tell her what happened!” Manny said, coming to sit beside him.
He didn’t think Stu’s face could get any paler, but it did.
“Manny, promise me you won’t say anything to her! She caught me riding my skateboard without my helmet last week and hit the roof! She said she’d ground me for weeks if she found out I wasn’t using safety gear—and that includes my batting helmet.” He put his head in his hands. “If I get grounded, I won’t be able to play baseball. You know the Grizzlies need me if we’re going to win. And think of how angry Coach Flaherty would be if he found out why I couldn’t play.”
Manny’s stomach twisted into a tight knot at the thought of the coach’s anger. And Stu was probably right: The Grizzlies did need him. Manny had filled out enough scorecards to know that Stu was the best second baseman in the league and a consistently strong hitter as well. With Jason out sick, the Grizzlies were already down one starter. How would they fare if they lost Stu, too?
Then Manny eyed Stu’s head. He was certain he could see a lump starting to swell where the ball had hit him. “Don’t you think your mom is going to find out anyway, when she sees that goose egg?”
Stu touched the spot and grimaced. “So I’ll just make sure she doesn’t see it.”
Using his fingers, he combed his sweaty hair forward until it nearly touched his eyebrows. Then he put his cap on.
“There,” he said, “how’s it look?”
“It looks fine,” Manny said. “But you don’t!” It was true. Stu’s face was still pale, and his hands had been shaking when he put on the hat. “Please let me call your mom or dad!”
“No!” Stu practically shouted. When Manny pulled back, he lightened his tone. “Being in the championship game is really important to me. You know that. Promise me you won’t tell!”
Sean cleared his throat. He’d been silent up until then, but now he put in his two cents. “I didn’t throw the ball that hard, Manny.”
Manny bit his lip and looked from one boy to the other. Both were regarding him with expressions that were half anxious, half hopeful.
“Okay,” he said at last. “I won’t say anything, but on one condition. You have to promise to wear a helmet from now on.”
Relief crossed his friends’ faces. “You got a deal.” Stu stuck out his hand.
Manny shook it and then used it to pull Stu to his feet. This time, Stu didn’t lose his balance.
“Need any help getting home?” Sean asked.
Manny replied that they’d be fine. He hoped he was right.
Sean lived in the opposite direction and was soon out of sight. Manny and Stu walked slowly toward their neighborhood. Every so often, Manny cast a sidelong glance at his friend. He was sure he was being sneaky about it—until Stu caught him.
“Cut that out, will you?” Stu grumbled. “I’m fine!” Then, as if to prove his point, he turned to Manny with a wide smile. “At least, I’ll be fine once this headache I’ve got goes away!”
Manny smiled tentatively. “Does it hurt a lot?” he asked.
“Know those cartoons where the anvil falls on the cat’s head?” Stu said. “Well, picture an anvil the size of Texas hitting my head. That’s what it feels like!”
“Yeah, ouch,” Stu agreed. “But it’s just a headache. It’ll be gone by tomorrow, I bet.”
“So long as you’re okay…”
“ ’Course I’m okay,” Stu said. “If I weren’t, don’t you think I’d know it?”