The Best Friend Battle
Page 7
“I never thought of that,” I said, because if a fire happened at my house, I’d have to rescue the new baby and the twins. So we talked for a while about breaking in to houses in the middle of a fire or a robbery or a murder, and all of a sudden, it was time to leave.
“Want to play some ball tomorrow?” Georgie said. “Down at the park?”
“Sure,” I said with a shrug. “Miranda and I can walk over together.”
“Miranda?” Georgie said with a “Huh?” kind of face. Then he shrugged. “I thought she didn’t play baseball. But I guess that’s all right. She can come too.”
* * *
The next day, Josh, Georgie, Miranda, and I were at the baseball diamond with some of Georgie’s baseball friends. Georgie split us up into two teams, and I was not on Georgie’s team.
Then he told the guys on my side that I should pitch. They nodded, like they’d been expecting this, but I was suspicious. Georgie probably thought his team would win if I pitched.
Georgie was first up to bat.
Luckily, my ankle was pretty much better. You can do it this time, I told myself as I stepped onto the pitcher’s mound. You can beat the pants off him. Strike him out.
“Come on, Scruggs,” Georgie said as he stood at home plate. He swung the bat back and forth in front of him. “Let’s see what ya got. Not much in the way of pow-a, I’d say.”
Nobody laughed at this, and a few of the guys on my team groaned like Georgie said that joke all the time, so I straddled the pitcher’s mound as if his words didn’t bother me. In one smooth motion, I pulled my legs together, the ball and glove coming up to my chest. “You’d better close your eyes,” I told Georgie. “Or this throw’s going to make them both fall out.”
Then I raised my arms up over my head and threw. The ball soared out of my hand, zooming in a perfect line toward the plate.
Georgie’s eyeballs fell out. Okay, they didn’t really fall out, but they almost did. He swung with all his strength —
And missed.
“Strike!” Josh called, even though he was on Georgie’s team.
Georgie dug his bat into the ground. He scratched his head. Then he said something I thought he would never, ever say. “Nice pitch, Scruggs.”
“Go, Sylvie!” Miranda cried. She was standing by the fence with the rest of Georgie’s team, last in the lineup. “Great pitch!”
“She’s not on our team,” one of the boys said to her.
“I know,” Miranda said. “But I can still cheer for her, right? You can cheer for both sides.”
I looked at Josh, next up to bat. He shrugged. I looked at Georgie, who was already cocking up his bat for a second try. I looked at the other guys on the field, who were really pretty nice, for boys. They were mostly scratching their armpits.
I looked at Miranda and smiled so big you could probably see lots of my teeth. “You can cheer for everybody,” I said.
Sylvie would still be fishing Muffin out of a goldfish pool if it weren’t for the help of my family and friends.
My particular thanks go to the people at the Vermont College of Fine Arts (the best MFA writing program in the universe, as Sylvie would say). Martine Leavitt, Leda Schubert, Tim Wynne-Jones, Shelley Tanaka, and Margaret Bechard, my glorious advisors, your wisdom will forever be in my head.
Thank you to my dear friends who read multiple (multiple!) versions of this book: Skila Brown, Erin Hagar, Maggie Lehrman, Stefanie Lyons, Kristin Sandoval, Amy Zinn, and Quinn Silcox.
To my extended family on both sides — thank you for your constant, fervent support.
Tremendous thanks go to Caitlin Blasdell, my wise and tenacious agent, and Cheryl Klein, my gifted and careful editor. Thank you for loving Sylvie and reining her in when her antics spin out of control!
Mary, Lucy, Calvin, Shaemus, and Flannery — thank you for listening to version after version of this book. Thank you for loving to read, thank you for being the best kids a mother could have, and thank you for loving me.
Thank you, Sam, for being my best friend, my biggest cheerleader, and my number-one best reader/advisor/suggestion-giver ever (the baseball bit was your idea!). You are my Georgie (and that is a very good thing).
And most important, thank you to my Father in Heaven for guidance, patience, and this wonderful chance at life.
Lindsay Eyre is a mother of five, a graduate of the MFA program in Creative Writing at the Vermont College of Fine Arts, and a fanatical lover of books. The Best Friend Battle is her debut novel. She lives in the grand but sweaty city of Cary, North Carolina. Please visit her website at www.lindsayeyre.com and follow her at @lindsayeyre.
Charles Santoso is a concept artist and illustrator who loves to draw very little things in a very little journal. He currently resides in Sydney, Australia. Please visit his website at www.charlessantoso.com and follow him at @minitreehouse.
Text copyright © 2015 by Lindsay Eyre. Illustrations by Charles Santoso copyright © 2015 by Scholastic Inc. All rights reserved. Published by Scholastic Inc. SCHOLASTIC, the LANTERN LOGO, and associated logos are trademarks and/or registered trademarks of Scholastic Inc.
First printing, April 2015
Cover art © 2015 by Charles Santoso
Cover design by Jeannine Riske
e-ISBN 978-0-545-62094-9
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