by Clay Cormany
Stick’s frown vanished, and his eyes opened wide in bewilderment. "What would give you a crazy idea like that?"
Jace hesitated, but then realized that Stick could be trusted not to make his story an item of gossip. So he recounted how he had noticed the name "S.J. Thornapple" on his mom’s softball team roster when he copied it at the library.
"Of course I thought it was Stephanie’s name."
"Makes sense to me," Stick said.
"Did you know that Stephanie has a sister, about a year younger than her?" Jace asked.
Stick thought a moment before shaking his head. "I’d heard somewhere she had a much younger sister, maybe ten or eleven."
"Yeah, that’s Tina. She’s around Phoebe’s age," said Jace. "But she has another sister named Sylvia. She’s the one who’s coaching the team."
"What does she look like?" Stick inquired.
"She’s not as gorgeous as Stephanie," Jace said, "but there’s some resemblance. In fact, when I saw Sylvia from way off, I thought it was Stephanie for a second."
"No big deal," Stick replied. "But I’m surprised I haven’t at least heard of her or seen her at school."
Jace was, too. Stick’s network of acquaintances included jocks and babes, of course, but also wallflowers, nerds, bullies, and kids who cut class so much they were almost strangers to their teachers. But somehow he missed Sylvia.
"Anyway," Jace continued, "since I thought Stephanie would be an assistant coach for my mom’s team, I talked my mom into letting me be an assistant, too. It seemed like a great chance to get to know Stephanie better without Carson or other guys butting in. But now I’m stuck on this team with her sister."
"No you’re not," Stick said.
"What do you mean?"
"Your mom didn’t expect you to be an assistant coach, did she?" Stick said, cocking an eyebrow. "It’s not like you promised to do this, is it?"
"No."
"So just quit. Let Sylvia be the assistant coach all by herself. That will let you come to the pool — and get better acquainted with the S.J. Thornapple that you want."
As his friend’s advice soaked into Jace’s mind, Martha shouted from inside the idling station wagon.
"Come on, Jace! We need to go!"
Jace waved an acknowledging hand over his shoulder. "I got to run."
"No problem," Stick said with a sly grin. "See you at the pool.”
Chapter Seven
When they arrived home, Martha called Grigoro's Pizzeria and ordered a large pizza — half pepperoni and half double cheese. She hung up the phone in the den and went into the kitchen where Jace sat at the counter, reading the Ridgeview News. His mother came up next to him and put her arm around his shoulder. "You did great out there today."
"I didn’t do that much," he said, pushing the paper aside.
"But you showed that you care about this team and every player on it."
"Yeah, well –"
"And you’re right. This is an inexperienced team that will need all the help it can get."
"I guess it will," he said, tilting his chair and glancing into the den. Phoebe — her softball glove beside her — was sprawled in front of the television. This seemed a good time to follow Stick’s advice.
"And I know that you’re disappointed that Stephanie isn’t –"
"Mom," he interjected, "I want to quit the team."
Martha dropped her head. "I was afraid you’d say that."
"I’m sorry," Jace said. "I'll pay you back for the jersey you bought me, but like you said, the softball season lasts clear through July. If I coach, work at Farrell’s three days a week, read those books for senior English, and try to get in shape for cross-country, that’s not going to give me time for much else this summer."
"Are you still hoping to spend time with Stephanie?"
"Yeah, she told me she’d be at the pool sometimes. I’m hoping to run into her there."
Martha looked him in the eye. "Phoebe is going to be disappointed."
"I know and I’ll try to make it up to her."
"How?"
"I can still practice with her in the yard. Play catch or something."
Martha sighed. "I guess that’s better than nothing."
"Don’t worry,” Jace assured her. “Your team will come around. Just give them a few games, and they’ll be as good as most of the others. Besides, Stephanie’s sister will be a great assistant. You saw that fielding demonstration she did with Tina, didn’t you? She knows what she’s doing, so you don’t need me that much, do you?"
Martha frowned — but it was a frown of thought rather than displeasure. "Jace," she said, "I’d like you to stay with the team a little while longer."
"How long?"
"Until our first official game. That’s less than two weeks from now."
"I don’t know."
"It would mean a lot to me, and I think it would mean a lot to your sister, too. You may not realize it, but she looks up to you."
Jace gazed again into the den where Phoebe had switched off the television and was reading Island of the Blue Dolphins. She was a pest. That was standard for all sisters, especially younger ones. But this kid had been through quite a bit in her eleven plus years. When she was four, she underwent an emergency appendectomy. At seven, she and several other children were whisked away to the ER after a dump truck rear-ended their school bus. And then a year after that, their parents split up. Phoebe took that hard. Jace still remembered how calm she was when their mother told them about the divorce and their father moving out of town. But the sobs that he heard coming from Phoebe’s bedroom that night — and many nights thereafter — belied her outward composure.
"Okay, you’re on.”
Chapter Eight
At ten-thirty Saturday morning, the Valkyries once again assembled at Diamond Number Two for practice. Martha started with a hitting drill this time. With Jace and Sylvia taking turns pitching, each girl stood at the plate and received ten pitches. The results were mixed at best. The experienced players swung the bat easily and often made contact, but the novices enjoyed much less success. Some of them just rested the bat on their shoulder and watched pitches sail by. Others flailed at the ball as if it were an annoying insect. Nancy had the bad habit of letting go of the bat after swinging. When it flew from her hands, her teammates would scream or gasp, as if a hand grenade were coming toward them.
The first round of batting practice did disclose one interesting fact. Lauren, like most of the other new players, usually missed the ball when she swung. But on those occasions when she did connect, she could hit the ball quite far, even over the heads of the outfielders. One ball she clubbed went so far that it rolled into a neighboring diamond where a different team was practicing. A girl from the team — a possible future opponent — picked up the ball. Time for a little psychological warfare, thought Jace, as he ran over to the youngster.
"Oh, thank you so much," he said, holding out his hand. "That ball went so far we didn’t think we’d ever find it."
"Huh?" said the girl, handing him the ball.
"You mean you didn’t see our player hit this thing?" Jace asked in feigned surprise.
The child shook her head, and a braid tucked under her oversized cap tumbled down to her shoulder.
"Oh, that’s too bad," Jace responded in mock dismay. "It was a great hit, almost knocked down a bird."
As the girl’s eyes widened, Jace noticed a man walking briskly in their direction. He was probably the girl’s coach, wanting to know why one of his players was conversing with a stranger. Time to go, he thought, but the urge to make one final comment proved irresistible.
"Don’t worry," he said to the girl. "You’ll get a chance to see Lauren hit when our team plays yours."
Hurrying back to rejoin the Valkyries, Jace glanced over his shoulder and saw the girl talking to the man, perhaps warning him that the team on Diamond Number Two had their own version of Babe Ruth.
Martha put her players through
a second round of batting practice and then huddled with her two assistants. "I’m going to try a few girls as pitchers, starting with Corey," she told Jace and Sylvia. "The two of you take the rest of the team behind second base and work on fielding."
"Should we hit them some balls this time?" asked Sylvia.
Martha thought for a moment. "Start off by throwing the ball like you did before," she instructed. "If they can handle that, then try using the bat. Nothing too hard. Just some easy grounders and maybe a few pop-ups."
So Jace and Sylvia repeated the procedure that they used in the first practice, throwing the ball along the ground or lofting it into the air.
"I think they’re doing a little better," said Jace after following this routine for a few minutes.
"You’re right," Sylvia said. "Why don’t we switch to the bat?"
He gave her a thumbs-up and then faced the ten players spread out forty to fifty feet in front of him. Bedecked in different outfits with different colors, they looked like pieces of a large patchwork quilt waiting to be sewn together.
"Say, girls!" Jace shouted. "You’re doing pretty good out there! How about we start using the bat?"
A few heads nodded cautiously. "Don’t hit it too hard," warned Dana.
"We won’t," Jace vowed. "But back up a little bit. Give yourselves more room to move around."
"Why don’t I start off?" Sylvia volunteered. "Then you can take over in a few minutes."
"Suits me," Jace said, offering her the bat. Sylvia took it from him and went to work.
Jace watched her as she swatted balls to the waiting fielders. Graceful and poised, Sylvia obviously felt at home on a softball diamond. She probably did well in school, too. But what about at a dance or a party? He didn’t know how she would be on a date, but he suspected Sylvia didn’t think of herself as pretty — even though she was. More than that, she didn’t try to look pretty, as if any effort to appear attractive would violate some unspoken rule.
After about ten minutes, Sylvia paused and wiped some perspiration from her forehead.
"Want me to take over?" Jace asked.
"I feel okay," she said with a shrug. "But I could use a drink of water." She handed the bat to him and then headed to the bench on the first base side where she had placed her water bottle.
He took a couple of practice swings before shouting, "Get ready!"
"Don’t hit it too hard," said Dana, repeating her earlier plea.
Jace first punched out a soft roller that Angela scooped up. "Nice job," he said, as she heaved the ball back to him.
Again he hit the ball on the ground — somewhat harder. Kay reached for the ball, bobbled it, but kept it in front of her.
"Good, at least you didn’t let it go under your legs," Jace said.
"Hit it in the air," barked Lauren, pounding her glove.
"Yeah, hit it in the air," chimed in Phoebe.
"In a minute," Jace answered. "You still need practice with these grounders."
His third hit ball was harder still, and it changed direction after striking a clump of grass. But it posed no big problem for Tina, who snared the spinning sphere with ease and threw it back with laser-like precision.
"Nice one, Tina," Jace said.
"Yeah, great job, little sis," a female voice exclaimed behind him.
Jace needed just one second to realize that although this voice was familiar, it did not belong to Sylvia, his mother, or any member of the Valkyries. It took another second for him to spin around and much less than a second for his heart to do a somersault as his eyes fell on the exquisite figure of Stephanie Thornapple. She carried a canvas tote and wore a blue-and-white two-piece bathing suit that accented every alluring feature of her body.
Tina stared at her sister in surprise. "Are you going to watch the practice?" she asked.
"Maybe later," she said. "I have to go over to the pool first." She looked at Jace for a few seconds before walking away.
Whether it was the surprise of Stephanie’s appearance or the surge of desire from seeing her in that bathing suit, a blast of adrenaline shot through Jace, and the next ball he hit came off the bat like a howitzer shot. It dipped, struck the ground, and then flew up and caromed off Heather’s knee. From there, it went toward Dana’s head and smacked her above the nose, splitting her glasses into two parts. Even after wreaking such havoc, the ball still had enough momentum to strike Lauren in the shoulder and bring tears to her eyes. The other two girls were also wailing. While Dana groped in the grass, trying to locate her smashed glasses, Heather pointed an accusing finger at him.
"You stupid dope," she said between sobs. "You hit it too hard."
"I — I — I’m sorry," Jace stammered. "I wasn’t thinking."
"That’s because you’re a big booger," said Lauren, who rubbed her wounded shoulder.
The commotion caught Martha’s attention, and she and the girls with her came over to where Jace stood.
"What happened?" Martha asked.
"It’s my fault," said Jace. "I hit the ball too hard."
"Yeah, he sure did," said Phoebe unhelpfully.
Jace gave her an icy stare and then searched for Stephanie. She continued to walk toward the pool, giving him hope that she hadn’t seen the mayhem he caused behind her.
"My poor glasses!" cried Dana in despair, holding the two pieces aloft. "They’re ruined."
Martha quickly took charge. She sent Phoebe to the station wagon for the first aid kit and then examined Heather’s knee. A bump had formed and a bruise would probably follow, but a trip to the ER wasn’t necessary. An examination of Dana similarly revealed nothing more serious than a small scratch on the bridge of the girl’s nose.
Once Phoebe came back with the first aid kit, Martha sprayed Heather’s leg with pine oil pain killer and put antibacterial ointment and a small bandage on Dana’s scratch. She sprayed Lauren’s shoulder, too, although it wasn’t cut or bruised. Repairing Dana’s glasses proved trickier, but a few well-placed strands of medical tape seemed able to hold the lenses together at least for a little while.
"Let’s continue with the practice," Martha announced after tending to her wounded players. "Those of you who were hurt don’t have to play anymore today if you don’t want to."
Heather and Lauren rejoined their teammates, and after about five minutes, Dana did too, jury-rigged glasses and all. The remainder of the practice continued without incident. To be safe, however, Martha put Jace to work with the pitchers, while she joined Sylvia in hitting grounders and pop-ups to the other girls.
In his new role, Jace caught pitches from Corey and later Denise and Tina, sometimes commenting on whether they were getting in the strike zone. During this routine, he saw Stephanie come back from the pool and take a seat in the bleachers on the first base side. He noticed that while Stephanie shouted encouragement to Tina from time to time, she didn’t say anything to Sylvia, even when Sylvia took a break from batting.
At noon, Martha motioned for her players to come off the field. Sensing an opportunity, Jace strode over to where Stephanie sat with a towel around her neck and the tote bag by her feet. He tried to put a little bounce in his step, hoping it would make him appear confident. But inside his body, confidence was nowhere to be found. His stomach twisted itself like a contortionist, and his mouth felt drier than cactus. By the time he stood next to Stephanie, he wasn’t sure he could speak, but knew he had to try.
"Hi Stephanie, I'm Jace Waldron. We were in Mr. Buchanan's history class together."
She nodded. "I thought I recognized you. So how did you do in that class?"
"Oh, I got an A," he said, hoping he didn't sound conceited. "Just lucky, I guess. How about you?"
"I got a C, but then American history's never been my best subject." Stephanie paused and tilted her head to one side. "Are you coaching this team with my sister?"
"Um, yes," he answered. He wondered if she thought him silly or weird, so he quickly added, "My mom's the head coach, but I prom
ised to help her until the regular season starts." Jace wanted to keep this conversation going, but he didn't want to talk about himself or his reason for being there. He tried to change the subject.
"So what do you think of the Valkyries?" he asked.
"The what?"
"The team that Sylvia and I are coaching."
Stephanie shrugged. "I don’t know much about softball, but I guess they’re okay." Suddenly her eyes twinkled, and she put a hand to her mouth to restrain a laugh; a little giggle escaped anyway. "They’ll be even better if you can teach them to hit the way you do."
Jace gritted his teeth. So she had seen his batting debacle after all. "I didn’t mean to do that," he said sheepishly.
"You didn't hurt anyone — at least not badly."
"Just lucky again," he said, flicking a drop of perspiration off his cheek. Speaking to Stephanie was difficult, not only because he felt nervous but also because her beauty was riveting, even overpowering. Right now, there seemed to be nothing else in Jace’s world except Stephanie. The softball diamond and the players, the nearby trees and shrubs, the pool in the distance, the wispy clouds and blue sky all meshed together in a mélange of color and motion, providing a stage on which Stephanie was the sole character.
"Mom wants you to come over behind the backstop for a team meeting."
The voice belonged to Phoebe, of course. She stood just five feet away. He had not seen her approach — wouldn’t have seen her if she had arrived in a Sherman tank. But there she was, fulfilling her life’s mission of annoying him and taking him from where he wanted to be.
"I’ll be there in a minute!" he yelled over his shoulder before turning back to Stephanie.
"I hope you’ll come to some of our other practices," he said, "and even a few games."
"Hmmm, maybe I can," she replied, crinkling her nose. "When is the next practice?"
"Next Tuesday at five forty-five."
She shook her head. "I’ll be out with Carson then." Jace’s heart took a dive. "He’s leaving the next day for Michigan, and I won’t see him for over a month." His heart halted its dive and jumped. So Stick was right.