DURING THE CAR RIDE to practice, Benji announced that he wanted Jaden to pitch in to the effort. “You need to ask Swanson where Sheridan’s birth certificate is. I figure that’ll turn up the heat even more.”
“No way, Benji.” Jaden shook her head.
“What do you mean ‘no way’? You’re part of this team, aren’t you?”
“You don’t need me sticking my nose in,” she said. “You’ve got to tough it out.”
Benji pounded a fist into his open hand. “We gotta let Swanson know what’s what. We are the Titans. He’s a newcomer. We need to school him in the way of the Titans.”
“Josh, help me here,” Jaden said.
Josh spoke quietly, aware that Mrs. Lido was listening intently. “I think we’re gonna be fine, Benji. Let’s go have a great practice and make it impossible for him to bounce you.”
“Yeah,” Benji said, “but you be sure to let him know that if it ends up going some other way . . .”
“Death Star.” Jaden angled her head toward the back of Benji’s mom. “We know. We know.”
“Benji, I am not a Death Star.” Mrs. Lido frowned.
“Tell that to the lady at Walmart.” Benji looked back at them, glowing with pride. “This lady sasses my mom at the checkout because you’re not supposed to open the underwear to try it on; but you know I gotta make sure it’s stuff I can wear, and I don’t go for anything when the tags creep into your crack, so the lady says, ‘Hey, you opened this underwear; that’s not allowed.’ And my mom says, ‘There’s no reason to shout; my son won’t wear it if the tag crawls down his crack, so we can’t just go buying any underwear we see just cuz it looks good in the package.’ So the lady starts hollering and—BOOM—Death Star. My mom gets that look, and she’s got the manager out there, and he crumbles.”
“Well,” Mrs. Lido said, “I put up with your father’s guff for fourteen years, and I certainly am not gonna take it from the Walmart lady when I’m a paying customer.”
“Death Star,” Benji whispered to them.
When they got to the field, Benji delivered his paperwork to Martin first thing to avoid any more running.
Soon practice began in earnest. Josh whispered to Benji, “You gotta make some good moves, okay?”
Benji pointed to his chest. “When doesn’t the heavy hitter shine like a star? The heavy hitter performs best when everything is on the line. I thrive on pressure like it’s an ice cream sundae. It’s in my DNA.”
Josh wasn’t sure if it was Benji’s situation, or all the stuff with his parents, or sleeping poorly, or moving to Bricktown, but whatever the reason, he was the one who looked bad in practice, not Benji. Benji shone, and Josh thought that if Coach Swanson was going to base his decision on who to cut on that night’s practice alone, Josh would make a fine candidate. He barely nicked the ball in batting practice. Sheridan’s pitches screamed right past him, and his arms felt like lead in the field too.
So when Coach Swanson called them all in, huffing and gasping for air, with sweat pouring down their faces and hands on their knees, Josh felt a pang in his gut.
“Okay, men,” the coach said. “We’re one man heavy. I watched you all carefully tonight, and I’ve made my decision. It’s not an easy thing to do, but if we get an injury somewhere down the line, we’ll call you back up.”
Josh looked at Benji. Benji panted but gave him a confident wink as if he had it in the bag. Josh wasn’t so sure. He didn’t trust Coach Swanson.
He didn’t trust him at all.