I crunched the last of my cone. “So that’s why you were out so late every night?”
Spiro nodded. “I had to learn the whole business from the ground up, including cleaning up after closing time. And then, I did go to night school for a while. Took some classes down at the technical college. Bookkeeping and stuff like that.”
I looked at my uncle. It all made sense now, of course. The sneaking around. The excuses for not being able to work in Pop’s shop. The custard taste tests. I wiped my sticky face with a napkin. “I’m sorry I called you a shifty freeloader.”
Spiro laughed and rubbed my crew cut. “That’s all right, squirt. And don’t worry. We’ll figure out something for next Saturday.”
“Yeah,” I said. “I need to think about that.” I picked at a splinter in the picnic table.
“Well,” Spiro said, “you could always come clean.”
“I dunno. . . .”
Ace piped up. “He’ll probably find out sooner or later. And what happens if you actually win the big contest? Don’t you want your folks there to see it?” He was right. I hated that.
But I wasn’t quite ready to do it. “I’ll think about it,” I said. “Hey, Uncle Spiro. Can we try the soda fountain?”
“Sure thing, Sparky.”
CHAPTER
31
FROM THAT DAY ON, my nickname at school was Mick Sparks. Half the kids didn’t believe that was me in the newspaper, and the other half thought it was hilarious and wouldn’t call me anything else. Pete was no help. “I don’t know who this Mick Sparks fella is,” he’d say, with an evil glint in his eye, “but I’m gonna wipe the field with him on Saturday.”
And then, instead of playing Scramble, we all retreated to our opposite corners of the zoo to strategize for Saturday’s final contest. Pete was convinced it was finally gonna be traditional baseball skills. But me and Ace weren’t so sure. We knew Joe Daggett better than that. Whatever he had up his sleeve, it would probably be something you couldn’t practice for.
“I hope it has something to do with the monkeys,” said Ace as we walked home from school on Wednesday. “Maybe they’ll let the monkeys loose on the field, and whoever can wrangle the most, wins.”
“That’s what I like about you, Ace,” I told him, kicking a pebble down the sidewalk. “You’re a very optimistic person.”
When we got to Mountain Goat Mountain, Penny was waiting for us, all breathless. Her hair was even more wild than usual, and her socks were bunched down around the tops of her saddle shoes.
“Look!” she called, waving us over. “It was waiting for me when I got home from school! I ran all the way here.” She held out an envelope. “Look!”
“Hey!” said Ace. “It’s from the Mudpuppies Baseball Club!”
“It’s on official Mudpuppies stationery and everything,” she said. “And it’s addressed to me!” She opened the letter and read it out loud.
“Dear Miss Lonergan,
Thank you for submitting your essay to the First Annual Mudpuppy for a Day Batboy Contest. You were the only young lady to submit an essay.”
“They read it!” I said. “That’s great!”
“I know,” said Penny. “Listen to this.
“The Mudpuppies Baseball Club takes seriously our responsibility to preserve and protect the delicate sensibilities of our fans of the fairer sex. As a result, young ladies are precluded from entering the contest.”
“Hold it,” I said. “What the heck does all that mean?”
Penny wrinkled her nose. “It means that I’m too delicate to compete.”
“You?” Ace snorted. “Shows you what they know.”
“I don’t get it,” said Penny. “It’s not like a batboy has to lift a hundred pounds or anything.”
Me and Ace both shrugged. Penny was right: It didn’t make any sense. But apparently it was the rule, and every kid knows that some rules exist for only one reason: to make life easier for grown-ups. Nine o’clock bedtime, for example. Or “Keep out of the rhino pen.” Any way you looked at it, the “no girls” rule sounded like one of those.
“Wait, there’s more.” Penny cleared her throat and kept reading.
“However, after reading all the submissions, the judging panel unanimously agreed that yours was the best essay we received. It displayed creativity, enthusiasm, impressive knowledge of baseball, and perfect spelling, all in exactly one hundred words.”
Me and Ace both whooped and hollered when we heard that.
Penny just grinned, and she kept reading.
“In recognition of this outstanding achievement, we would like to invite you to be our guest on Saturday, May 29, to receive a special award during our pregame ceremonies. Please visit the Mudpuppies executive offices at your earliest convenience to collect free game tickets for you and a friend.
Best wishes,
J P Daggett
Joseph P. Daggett
President, Mudpuppies Baseball Club”
Penny showed us Joe Daggett’s signature. Then she folded the letter and put it back in the envelope.
“Jeepers,” I said.
“That Joe Daggett is one okay fella,” said Ace.
Penny was beaming. “I’m gonna see if Josie can come up from Kenosha for the game,” she said.
“We all get to go to the game on Saturday,” I said. “How great is that?”
“When are you gonna pick up your tickets?” said Ace.
Penny pushed her hair out of her face. “How about right now? Wanna come with me? You said you know Mr. Daggett.”
Me and Ace both held up our crossed fingers. “We’re like this.”
CHAPTER
32
WE TOOK THE STREETCAR to Orchard Field and walked straight to the Mudpuppies office. But before I could knock on the door, Ace turned the knob and busted in like he owned the place.
There was ol’ Miss Garble at her desk, jumping in surprise and dropping a lit cigarette into her lap.
“Oh, it’s you again,” she said, patting at her skirt before it could catch fire. A cloud of smoke drifted around her.
“That’s right,” said Ace, smooth as glass. “We’re here to see Joe Daggett.”
Miss Garble glanced toward the closed door of the inner office. “He’s on the phone.”
From the other side of the door, we could hear a loud voice.
“I’m sorry, Bill,” Joe Daggett was saying, “but we’re gonna have to return all these jars of mustard. Everybody knows you can’t put yellow mustard on a hot dog! It’s spicy brown or nothing. Well, it can’t be nothing. What’s a hot dog without mustard, am I right? No, Bill, I need it before the home stand this weekend. Trust me, you’ll taste a difference!”
We heard a klunk and then Joe Daggett hollered, “Miss Garble!”
She crushed her cigarette in the ashtray on her desk, rubbed her forehead, and went to open the inner office door. “Yes, Mr. Daggett?”
“Miss Garble, Bill from food service will be along shortly to switch out twelve dozen gallon-sized jars of mustard. Can you show him to the concession office when he gets here?”
Miss Garble smiled weakly. “Of course, Mr. Daggett. Oh, Mr. Daggett? There are some, uh, young gentlemen and”—she looked Penny up and down to make sure, I guess—“a young lady here to see you.”
“Show ’em in!” he said.
Miss Garble held the door open and gestured for us to go in.
“Well, howdy kids!” said Joe Daggett from behind a giant metal desk piled with papers. In the middle of all the paper sat a gallon-sized jar of yellow mustard. Joe Daggett had his feet up on the desk, on top of all the papers. He had black-and-yellow argyle socks on both feet. I guess Joe Daggett dressed up for the office.
He reached across his desk to shake our hands. “Nice to see you fellas again! Nick, am I right? And”—he snapped his fingers, thinking—“Ace! Say, what happened to your arm?”
Ace showed off his cast. “Raced a rhino. I won.”
“T
hank goodness,” said Joe Daggett. “And who’s this young lady?”
“This is our friend Penny,” I said.
Joe Daggett tipped his imaginary hat. “Hello, Penny. Glad you kids stopped by. My door is always open. Except when it’s closed, ha! But that’s just because I like to make Miss Garble wonder what’s going on in here. Keeps her on her toes. What can I do for you?”
Penny pulled Joe Daggett’s letter out of her skirt. (Apparently she had pockets in there somewhere.) “It’s about this,” she said, handing the envelope to Joe Daggett.
He scanned the letter, and his eyebrows shot up. “You’re Penny Lonergan? Congratulations, young lady! Let me shake your hand!”
He dragged his feet off his desk, sending papers sliding to the floor and almost knocking over the giant jar of yellow mustard. Then he stood up and pumped Penny’s hand. “Miss Garble!” he hollered.
Miss Garble appeared in the doorway again. “Yes, Mr. Daggett?”
“Miss Garble, this is Penny Lonergan! We were all very impressed with Penny’s essay, weren’t we, Miss Garble?”
“That’s right,” said Miss Garble. “And I ought to know. I read every single one.”
“Oh, it wasn’t that bad,” said Joe Daggett.
Ace sidled up to Miss Garble. “How did you like my seventeen-page masterpiece?”
Miss Garble took a step backward and peered at Ace over her glasses. “That was you?”
“We have tickets for you, Penny,” said Joe Daggett. He rummaged around the piles of paper on his desk. “Miss Garble, have you seen—”
“Right here, Mr. Daggett.” Without blinking an eye, Miss Garble fished a small envelope out of the pile and handed it to Penny. Then she left the room, shaking her head.
Penny opened the envelope and gasped. “Section One, Row One?”
Joe Daggett winked. “Two seats, directly behind home plate.” He perched on the edge of his desk and grinned. “And I hope you’ll take part in our pregame ceremonies too. After the zoo caravan, we’re going to announce the big winner of the batboy contest. And then I’d like to introduce our very special, honorary essay winner. What do ya say?”
“Gee, thanks, Mr. Daggett,” said Penny, but she didn’t sound as excited as I thought she’d be. “Can I ask you a question, though? I mean, this is all really nice of you, but I wonder: Do you really believe what you said here?” She took the letter from Joe Daggett and studied it. “This part here,” she said, pointing, “about preserving and protecting the . . . ‘delicate sensibilities . . . of the fairer sex’? We’re not babies. We’re girls. Why can’t girls do stuff too?”
“Girls?” said Joe Daggett, lifting his eyebrows. He rubbed his knee, thinking. “Girls,” he said again to himself. Then he snapped his fingers. “It’ll be Ladies’ Day on Saturday. Half price admission.”
Penny cleared her throat. “I was thinking that girls could actually do something, besides watch. For instance, the batboy contest.” She shifted on her feet. “How come girls are”—she searched the letter again—“ ‘precluded from entering the contest’? That means not allowed to be a batboy, right? But how come? And you can’t say it’s because the word ‘batboy’ has ‘boy’ in it,” she added quickly. “I mean, I know the finalists are already decided. But . . . maybe you could think about including girls next time?”
Joe Daggett scratched his head. “You think that’s a good idea?”
“Yes, sir,” said Penny. “Girls even play baseball, you know. Have you heard of the AAGPBL?”
Joe Daggett’s eyebrows went up. “Sure I have.”
“What’s the A-A-G-Peeble?” said Ace.
I shrugged. I didn’t know either.
“It’s the All-American Girls’ Professional Baseball League,” said Joe Daggett. “Ten teams, I think, here in the upper Midwest. I’m told they’re even pitching overhand this year.”
Penny nodded. “They’re good players too. Me and my dad drive down to watch whenever there’s a game in Kenosha or Racine.”
“Is that so?” said Joe Daggett. “You got a favorite player?”
“Josie Lonergan,” said Penny, without missing a beat. “She plays shortstop for the Kenosha Comets.”
My mouth dropped open. “Wait a minute. Josie Lonergan?”
“Your sister is a ballplayer?” said Ace.
“Yep,” said Penny proudly.
A big grin spread across Joe Daggett’s face. “Well, if that don’t beat all. Miss Garble!”
We heard footsteps, and here came ol’ Miss Garble again. “Yes, Mr. Daggett?” A fresh cigarette was in her hand, sending up a thin swirl of blue smoke.
“Miss Garble, how many times have I told you? That stuff’ll kill you!”
Miss Garble looked hurt. “But Mr. Daggett, you know what the magazine ads say. More doctors smoke Camels than any other cigarette.” She coughed.
“And I thought I was a huckster,” Joe Daggett said to me out of the corner of his mouth. “Miss Garble, that’s the fattest load of hooey I’ve ever heard. Now put out that noxious thing and make a phone call for me, will you? I need to speak to the front office of the Kenosha Comets Baseball Club, toot sweet. Ask the long distance operator for the number.” He folded his arms across his chest and grinned. “Let’s add one more feature to Saturday’s pregame ceremony. I’m going to invite the shortstop of the Kenosha Comets to throw out the first pitch!”
CHAPTER
33
HOW ABOUT THAT?” said Ace as the three of us crammed into a seat on the streetcar headed home. “Your sister’s a professional ballplayer!”
“I know that,” said Penny, but she had a big grin on her face.
“How come you never told us?” I asked.
Penny shrugged. “I never know what somebody is gonna say. Most of the time, people think it’s neat. But some people say it’s not ladylike.” Penny blushed, and she leaned close so she could whisper. “One lady told Josie that if she kept playing ball, she’d never be able to have babies.”
I have to admit: I’m not too swift on the female anatomy, though you can’t say I haven’t tried. One time I happened to find a cheesecake magazine in Uncle Spiro’s room, but I only got a peek at a leg and some garters before he walked in and hollered at me to get out of his room forever. Gee whiz. Anyhow, despite my lack of knowledge in that department, I was pretty sure that playing ball and having babies involved completely different body parts. “I don’t get it,” I said.
“Me either,” said Penny. Now she was blushing bright red. “Even my mom says it’s dumb.”
“Anyhow, me and Ace think it’s pretty swell that your sister plays ball,” I said. “Don’t we, Ace?”
He nodded. “You bet! And now Joe Daggett invited her to the game on Saturday! You’ll be on the field with your sister! And sit behind home plate! Those tickets cost a dollar fifty each!”
A smile bloomed on Penny’s face. “I never expected that to happen.”
“Now we know why you’re such a good ballplayer,” I told Penny. “It runs in your family.”
Penny shrugged. “Josie practices with me in the off-season. She’s taught me a lot. She even taught me how to pitch overhand, so she could get some good batting practice.”
Which got me thinking. Penny had been planning to enter the contest all along, but she’d still offered to coach me. Which just proves again that Penny’s okay, even though she’s a girl. “Hey, thanks for helping me with stuff. I’d never be ready for Saturday if it wasn’t for your help.”
Penny looked at me out of the corner of her eye. “You think that’ll be the final contest? Catching fly balls?”
“My money’s still on monkeys,” said Ace. “Let ’em loose, and chase ’em down.”
“I dunno,” I said, ignoring Ace. “But maybe.”
“If it is, you’ll do great. It’s all up here,” Penny said, tapping her head. “That’s what Josie says, anyway. And don’t ever take your eye off the ball.”
“That sounds easy,” said
Ace, wiggling a finger up under his cast to scratch an itch.
“Oh, sure, it sounds easy,” I said.
“You’re a good player,” Penny said. “You’re getting the hang of it.” Then she gave me a wicked smile. “Besides, you can’t let Pete win.”
“Thanks,” I said. Like I said: Penny’s pretty swell, for a girl.
CHAPTER
34
BUT WE COULDN’T PRACTICE at the zoo the next day. The whole place was crawling with zookeepers getting everything ready for the big Spring Opening, which was only two days away. That meant the animals would be officially released outside for the whole summer, so their outdoor spaces had to be cleaned. Zookeepers in big rubber boots hosed down the empty enclosures and scrubbed them with stiff brooms. Then they scattered fresh bales of hay for the elephant, and the giraffes, and the zebra. Even Tank got some fresh hay, and he slept through the whole thing. Sometimes he can be pretty calm, for a rhino.
Over at Monkey Island, we watched one fella launching a wooden rowboat into the moat, and another fella hanging up a brand new tire swing.
“Do the monkeys go in the water?” asked Penny as we watched from the edge of the moat. She was still pretty new in town, so she hadn’t seen the monkeys outside yet.
“You bet!” said Ace. “They’re really good swimmers. It’s hilarious.”
“They swim over to the rowboat and climb in,” I said. “There’s no oars or anything, but they like to float around. And then they jump into the water.”
Penny leaned over the low wall and dipped her fingers into the water of the moat. “I could reach out and touch a swimming monkey?” she said.
“You could, but trust me, you don’t want to,” said Ace. “They bite.” I won’t go into details right now, but let’s just say he knows from experience.
“Can’t they climb out?” said Penny, taking a step backward. “I mean, this wall isn’t very high. If they can climb into the rowboat . . .”
The Rhino in Right Field Page 10