COACH SWANSON HAD THEM bring it in for their chant. “No guts, no glory” took on a new meaning for Josh. Fall ball without Benji knotted his stomach. As nutty as Benji could be, they really were like ice cream and cake. Josh didn’t want to face fall ball—and the push for the home run derby—without him.
Benji was so upset, he began muttering in the dugout about having his parents call Nike to lodge a complaint about their new coach.
“Hey, your dad must know someone, right?” Benji asked Josh. “No way the new pitcher is thirteen.”
Benji bent down to pick up his glove, and Josh saw that Sheridan was sitting at the end of the dugout, possibly listening. Josh tried to signal Benji to be quiet, but that was never easy.
“What? A call from your dad, and I bet we can end this guy’s career with Nike. They don’t like age cheats.” Benji lowered his voice but not as much as Josh would have liked. Still, the new kid went about his business, and Josh felt like maybe he hadn’t heard Benji.
They gathered their things and piled into Benji’s mom’s car.
“What’s wrong, Benji?” Benji’s mom put the car into gear and pulled away.
Benji shook his head. “I’m about ready to call Nike and have this guy fired.”
Josh gave Jaden a look. She squeezed her lips tight.
“He’s not a good coach?” Benji’s mom was instantly concerned.
“He’s terrible. He thinks baseball is the Boston Marathon. Baseball is baseball. To win, you throw the ball, catch it, and hit.” Benji reached into his bag, pulled out a blue Gatorade, and chugged half of it down before stopping to burp. “Man, Josh, your dad really burned us.”
“Well, he wanted to move up.” Josh felt odd defending his dad, but he meant it.
“Yeah, but Swanson? He thinks he’s still in the marines. And what about Bricktown?” Benji chugged the rest of his Gatorade and graced them with another loud burp. “You can’t be loving that.”
“What? Where did that come from? What does that have to do with baseball?” Suddenly, Josh didn’t feel so bad for Benji. “Lots of people live there, Benji. Shari Ann Harbaugh lives there, and she’s fine.”
Benji chuckled. “Changed your tune? Okay by me. At least I won’t have to hold your hand and walk you to the bus when school starts next week; you’ll have Shari Ann to protect you.”
Josh opened his mouth to say something mean, then realized that Benji just might know he was in trouble with the Titans and that maybe he was trying to distract himself and them from thinking about it by being difficult.
“And how about that Sheridan kid, huh?” Benji crumpled the plastic bottle in his hand. “Tell me that kid is really thirteen, and I got some swampland I wanna sell you. Thirteen? C’mon. More like sixteen. Kid’s got a mustache, I swear.”
“Coach Swanson’s not going to have someone who can’t qualify.” Jaden patted the folder she kept with the team paperwork in it.
“Yeah? Show me that kid’s birth certificate. Let’s see it.” Benji spun around in the front seat.
Jaden dug into the file she kept for the team. She flipped through all the copies of birth certificates, then went through them again before she looked up. “I can’t find it.”
“Because it’s not there.” Benji gave a short nod. “Like I said, that kid is not thirteen. No one on our roster’s going anywhere except Coach Swanson when my mom gets done reporting him.”
Josh looked at Jaden. “Benji, just ’cause he’s big doesn’t mean Sheridan is older than us.”
Benji just shook his head.
“Report him to who?” Jaden asked.
“That BARF or whatever they call that league we’re in.”
“Whatever you need me to do, Benji.” Benji’s mom reached over and patted his knee.
“It’s ‘Y-bell,’” Jaden said. “‘Y-B-E-L.’ Where’d you get BARF?”
Benji waved his hand impatiently. “Whatever it is, Barf, Y-bell, High-bell, I don’t care. Why are you always getting bogged down in the details?”
“Well, I’m a journalist,” Jaden said. “Details are important. And this could be exactly what I’ve been looking for.” Jaden clapped her hands and rubbed them together. “This could be perfect. You win your house, and I win the Young Journalist Award. College scholarship, here I come. If I can prove—with some serious investigative reporting—that Jack Sheridan is fourteen, I can’t miss. It’s my ticket, guys. It’s just perfect.”
Benji nodded. “Women are devious. My dad told me.”
Jaden frowned. “I think your dad got hit in the head too many times. You can’t just say women are devious.”
“What about free speech?” Benji asked. “Miss Smarty-Pants journalist.”
Josh looked at Jaden to see how she’d respond. He’d heard plenty of lectures from her about the freedom of speech.
She twisted up her lips. “Yup. Free to say something, even if it’s totally nuts.”
Benji fought back a victory smile. “And, while I know I said devious, I also gotta admit, you’re smart. Very smart.”
“Glad you think I’m smart,” Jaden said.
“You know I do. I just have to keep your head from getting overinflated,” Benji said. He turned to Josh. “Josh, ask your dad the best way to report a crazy coach with an illegal player to the league, will you?” Benji asked.
“Before or after I tell him how you said he burned us?” Josh couldn’t help tossing out the barb.
“Me and your dad are alpha males. We can take criticism from the pack. I don’t expect you to understand, buddy, but trust me. Me and your dad?” Benji thumped his chest. “We’re tight.”
“You shouldn’t say ‘illegal player,’ Benji. You don’t know that at all,” Jaden said.
Benji held out his hand. “Talk to the hand. My instincts are like a ninja’s.”
Benji’s mom took the corner sharp enough to dump Benji in her lap. She patted his head. “You just tell me who to call.”