by Tim Green
“Now, are you sure?” the man asked.
Jalen was sure. He was sure he didn’t want that kind of attention for something as stuffy as math. He didn’t intend to end up at a desk crunching numbers for the rest of his life. He intended to be outdoors, smacking doubles and home runs and snagging jaw-dropping line drives.
He liked Mrs. Boehr, and it hurt to disappoint her, especially when she sat him down and explained what a great gift it was to be different. But Jalen already knew better than that. Being different was only to your advantage if it was because you were tremendously better than everyone else at sports.
Still, there it was, all those numbers floating in his brain, all coming together with the certainty of two plus two equaling four when he was out there on the baseball diamond.
He put the newspaper down and went through the signals he and Yager had devised. He only needed four for Holton: slider, sinker, changeup, and four-seam fastball. He went over the others, too, for whatever relief pitcher they’d see, but he focused on Holton’s toolbox. Four-seam was easy, four fingers. Sinker was a thumb pointing down, a pitch that came in flat only to drop at the last moment. Changeup was two thumbs-up. And the slider was a throat-cutting motion, because that was Yager’s least favorite pitch to hit, even though he could hit them all.
The five a.m. train wailed, approaching fast. The crossing bells began to clang, and the house shook a bit. Jalen plugged his ears until things quieted down and then made some breakfast as the train left Rockton behind in a powerful silence.
School was a blur and before he knew it, Jalen was stepping off the bus with Daniel and Cat shadowing him. Yager’s car already rested outside the empty diner at an angle that took up two parking spots.
“He’s early.” Jalen fretted more to himself than his friends. He sniffed the air and his stomach turned at the ripe smell of garbage. “You’ve got to be kidding me. I’d like to strangle that garbageman.”
Daniel sniffed as well. “It’s not too bad.”
Jalen checked himself from reminding Daniel that he lived over a stable, but he was so mad he felt he had to say something. “The only thing worse could be a clogged toilet.”
“Or Chris Gamble’s breath.” Daniel burst into a smile Jalen just couldn’t return.
They went through the front door and found Yager at table seven, with a plate of stuffed calamari drowned in steaming red sauce. Jalen’s father stood beside him, wiping his hands on his apron, obviously eager to see the star’s reaction.
“Ahhh! There you are!” Jalen’s father welcomed them with open arms. “I told Mr. Yager you’d be getting off the bus any second. Who’s gonna take the picture? Cat?”
Cat stepped forward with her phone, and Yager picked up his knife and fork, cutting into a piece of squid. Cat began snapping pictures. Yager let the bite cool, and he blew on it a couple of times before he put it in his mouth and began to chew. He chewed and chewed, and Jalen got nervous.
Yager closed his eyes and swallowed. Then, keeping his eyes shut, he opened his mouth to speak.
Jalen had no idea what was going to come out.
47
“DELICIOUS.” THE YANKEES STAR SPOKE so softly that Jalen had to look at Daniel’s face to see if he’d heard it correctly. Daniel’s face lit up, and he gave Jalen a high five.
“Let me see a thumbs-up.” Cat was working the phone, moving all around for different angles. “That’s it, big smile. Now cutting into it.”
Yager ignored Cat. He continued to eat, closing his eyes as he swallowed each bite until nothing was left. Finally he set the silverware down on his plate. “How are you going to choose? You must’ve taken a thousand pictures.”
Cat looked at her phone. “No, only ninety-seven.”
Yager laughed, and Jalen’s dad joined in.
“So,” Jalen’s dad said, “you like?”
“No.” Yager looked at Jalen’s dad with a straight face. “I love.”
“Ha-ha! Jalen! He loves my nonna’s stuffed calamari!” Jalen’s dad clasped his hand, pulling Jalen into a hug. Jalen wanted to say something about the bank, but he didn’t want to jinx everything. Nothing was guaranteed; Jalen had to deliver. Yager had to go four-for-four at the plate, and then he’d tweet about the Silver Liner. Yager had been firm on that.
“I’ll get more for you kids. Everyone’s gonna have lucky calamari!” Jalen’s dad disappeared into the kitchen.
The three friends sat down around Yager. Cat scrolled through her pictures, showing the Yankees player the ones she thought he should use until Jalen’s father reappeared with four smoking plates. Jalen swallowed. He wasn’t hungry in the least.
Yager held up a hand. “No more, Fabio. I have to play, and I’m going to be late to batting practice.”
“You come later then,” Jalen’s dad said. “Is just as good when I heat it up. Some say better. Jalen likes the calamari the second day even better.”
Yager stood up, and Jalen’s dad offered him a linen napkin. “For you face. The red sauce, she’s a little spilled.”
Yager wiped his face and sighed heavily, looking at Jalen. “Okay. You ready?”
“Sure.” Jalen wished he was half as ready as he sounded, and he didn’t think he sounded all that ready. The pressure was already killing him.
“My mom won’t be here until four.” Cat looked at her watch.
“Yeah, I know.” Yager looked worried. “I wish I could take you with me, but I don’t want Foxx to think you all are anything but fans. Ideally, he won’t even know you’re there, but I think he’s pretty observant.”
“Guy’s a genius, from what they say,” Daniel piped up. “So that would make sense.”
“He’s not a genius like Jalen.” Cat seemed offended, and Jalen remembered the GM’s angry red face and bow tie.
“No, I didn’t mean that,” Daniel said. “No one’s like Jalen.”
Jalen warmed with pride.
“Speaking of Foxx,” JY said, reaching into his pocket, “I got these for you.”
Yager held out a pair of mirrored wraparound sunglasses. “I think they’ll fit, and they’ll keep people from seeing you focus nonstop on the pitcher. It’s a little thing, but little things make the difference between winning and losing.”
Jalen took the glasses and tried them on. “Thanks.”
“Okay, so . . . here we go.” JY held out a hand to Jalen, and as Jalen shook it, he realized the star was nervous. “I’ll see you guys at the stadium. You got the signals?”
Jalen nodded. He set his fork down and ran through them quick and clean. Yager seemed at a loss for words. He stared at Jalen for a moment and muttered something to himself before saying, “Good.” Then he turned and walked away.
Jalen removed the sunglasses and pushed his food around on his plate, not hungry at all.
“That was weird,” Daniel said.
“He’s at the edge of the abyss.” Cat followed Yager with her eyes, watching until his car pulled away.
“That sounds like something out of a book,” Daniel said. “What’s it mean in English?”
“The abyss is an endless nothingness,” Cat said, “like dark space.”
“What’s that have to do with baseball?” Daniel took a sip from his water glass.
Jalen spoke up. “The end of life as he knows it. If he doesn’t turn things around, he won’t be a baseball player anymore.”
“JY’s still got his mansion and his dogs,” Daniel said. “And he was talking about getting a place on a beach somewhere. That doesn’t sound like the end to me. I mean, gosh. I want to play pro ball too. Don’t tell me when it’s over your life is an abyss. That stinks.”
“Despite what you think,” Cat said, “it’s true. Anyway, Jalen is gonna fix it, aren’t you, Jalen?”
Jalen stood up and automatically began to clear the table. “That’s the plan.” He didn’t want to tell them that there was more at stake than Yager’s career. He didn’t want to talk about how he needed that tweet to s
ave the Silver Liner from the bank. The pressure was building inside him, and he didn’t want Daniel reminding him about what was in the balance.
Jalen cleaned up, then helped his dad in the kitchen while Daniel and Cat argued among themselves until Cat’s mom pulled up in her white Range Rover. They rode without talking much, and before Jalen knew it they were pulling into a parking garage beside the stadium. The streets were crowded with Yankee fans, almost everyone wearing navy blue and white. Many wore their favorite player’s number on pinstriped jerseys. Jalen felt like he and his friends stuck out in their school clothes. Only Cat’s mom had the right colors, with her dark jeans and a blue sweater. They wove their way through the crowd to the will call gate and waited in an area blocked off by velvet ropes.
Jalen trembled with excitement and nerves as they stepped up to the window behind Cat’s mom. He tried to focus on the opportunity, not what he might lose. He had to think positive.
“Hewlett.” Cat’s mom spoke loudly through the speaker in the glass as she slipped her driver’s license into the metal tray beneath it. “Victoria Hewlett. Four tickets.”
The balding man behind the counter worked on his computer and frowned. “You said Hewlett? With an H?”
His voice buzzed coming through the speaker.
“Yes,” Cat’s mom said.
The man nodded and got up. There was a file folder on a shelf behind him. A supervisor came over to the man, and Jalen watched them talking through the glass. They went through the folder but took nothing out.
Finally the supervisor came to the window. “Did you say Hewlett?”
“Yes,” Cat’s mom said. “Victoria Hewlett. With an H.”
“Could it be under another name?” the man asked.
Cat’s mom looked at Jalen. “Maybe DeLuca?”
“Okay, we’ll try that.” The man returned to the folder file and went through it.
Jalen had that sinking feeling he got when a teacher announced a pop spelling quiz. He couldn’t help thinking of Jeffrey Foxx, the GM, a man Jalen knew was smart enough to figure things out and who he could imagine was devious enough to do something with the tickets so they couldn’t get in. Jalen didn’t like to predict things in real life as he did on the baseball field, but sometimes that happened too.
Other people came and went to the windows on either side of them. Finally the supervisor returned to the window and said, “Sorry, ma’am. We don’t have any tickets for you.”
48
DESPITE EVERYTHING THAT WAS ON the line, Jalen felt strangely relieved.
“That’s impossible.” Cat’s mom wasn’t backing down, and she set her feet like she was there to stay.
The supervisor looked at the line of people behind her. He ran a hand through his hair and it stuck out like a madman’s. “What credit card did you use to buy these tickets?”
“We didn’t buy these tickets,” she said. “James Yager left them for us.”
The man’s face relaxed. “Ohhh. You’re at the will call window, ma’am. You want the VIP window. That’s near Gate Four.”
The man pointed. “Go out and around. They’ll have your tickets there.”
Jalen took a deep breath and followed Cat’s mom through the crowd again. The VIP line was short and flowed quickly inside to the entryway where Jalen had been with the police. Babe Ruth, wearing his enormous crown, smiled down. Cat’s mom surrendered her purse for inspection and a man swept a wand over them one at a time. There was a counter that Jalen hadn’t noticed the last time. A woman behind it quickly produced their tickets, then fixed paper wristbands onto each of them.
They boarded the elevator with a handful of other people, some dressed in Yankees gear, some in nice clothes. Daniel’s eyes were wide, and he looked like he was eager to say something. Cat and her mom, though, were cool and calm. They went left instead of right out of the elevator and into the VIP Club’s large dining area. Buffet stations had more food than people. Carved meat steamed beneath bright lights, and bowls of colorful side dishes waited for people with inviting silver tongs beside them.
“Can we eat this stuff?” Daniel’s whisper was laced with awe.
“Of course. Are you hungry?” Cat’s mom asked.
“No, but I could put some in my pockets for later.”
“Uh, no. There’ll be plenty of food later on, too,” Cat’s mom said. “Jalen looks like he’d rather sit down.”
“We ate at the diner,” Cat said. “Jalen’s dad made us calamari.”
“Then sit down it is,” Cat’s mom said.
“Outvoted, as usual,” Daniel said.
Cat’s mom turned to someone in a uniform and asked directions to their seats. She was as comfortable as if she were in her own home, and Jalen wondered if that was something she’d learned or if some people were just born that way.
Jalen choked with discomfort in the strange and fancy place, but when they walked through a doorway, then up some steps where the fading daylight washed over them along with the bright-white lights of the stadium, he seemed to be able to breathe again. The players were already out on the field, warming up. An usher directed them to the seats Jalen had been in on Sunday. Daniel’s groan of joy barely registered as they sat. “Look at this! I died and went to heaven.”
Jalen’s eyes were on Yager, and it wasn’t twenty seconds before he glanced over and gave Jalen a thumbs-up.
Jalen returned it and sat down between Daniel and Cat.
Daniel kept looking around. He nudged Jalen. “Can you believe this?”
“Yes,” Jalen said.
“I can’t.”
Cat nudged Jalen. “Don’t forget your glasses.”
“Right,” he said, putting them on. Even though it was getting dark, the glasses cut the glare from the lights and actually helped him see better.
A woman appeared with small menus and asked if they wanted anything. Cat’s mom leaned forward and said to Daniel, “Pick out what you want, and we can order it later when you’re hungry. Get whatever you want. It comes with the seats.”
“What’s that mean?” Daniel asked. “Like, it’s free?”
“Yes,” Cat’s mom said. “Anyone want a drink?”
“Strawberry smoothie, please,” Cat said.
“Yeah, make it two,” Daniel said. “Please.”
“Jalen?”
“Huh? No, I’m fine, but thank you.”
Daniel leaned into him and whispered. “It’s free, amigo. If you don’t want one, order a blueberry for me.”
“Blueberry,” Jalen said, then turned his attention back to the field. He wanted to take it all in, not because he was savoring it, but because he wanted to make sure he was in the zone. Yager had to get a hit every time he got up, and Jalen had to be ready.
He focused on the action, willing time to slow down, but it didn’t. Before he knew it, the White Sox took the field but jogged off before Jalen had gotten a good look at Derek Holton’s strange throwing motion. Everyone stood for the national anthem.
Masahiro Tanaka took the mound for the Yankees and didn’t do Jalen any favors when he sat down the first three batters with just twelve pitches. The crowd roared its approval. Jalen watched Yankees manager Joe Girardi slap high fives with his team as they entered the dugout. Jalen caught Yager’s eye as he went by, but they said nothing. Jalen might have been a stranger, and that made the whole thing seem like a dream. He realized he hadn’t even tried to predict Tanaka’s pitches and wondered if he should have.
The Yankees didn’t help slow things down. Ellsbury and Gardner both got on before Reuben Hall grounded out. Jalen watched Holton carefully. He knew why they called him “the Condor.” He looked like a giant bird. The thin, six-foot-six lefty had thrown ten pitches in all, and Jalen had only gotten a handle on the last three. Tegan Tollerson stepped up, and Jalen expected a changeup but saw it was a fastball and that flustered him, because he was rarely wrong . . . and this was no time to be wrong. Tollerson went down swinging as well, and Jalen’s
genius felt like a loosely screwed lightbulb, flickering on and off. The pressure and the excitement were messing with his brain.
Tyler Hutt went to the plate.
“Sinker,” Jalen whispered under his breath.
It was a sinker, out of the strike zone, and Hutt passed on it.
“Slider.” Jalen spoke without moving his lips. No one could hear him.
Holton threw his slider and Jalen breathed a sigh of relief. Hutt popped it over the second baseman’s head for a single that scored the speedy Ellsbury and put runners on second and first. Yager moved to the on-deck circle, loaded his bat up with a doughnut, and began to swing as Joe Ros stepped up to the plate. Jalen wanted to watch the pitcher, but he couldn’t keep his eyes off Yager.
Cat put a hand on Jalen’s leg. “Jalen, you’re shaking. Are you all right?”
Jalen felt his head shake the way you might flick away a housefly, because he wasn’t all right. He was all wrong. He felt the urge to just get up and run. It was cowardly, he knew, but he couldn’t help it, and it made him think of his mother.
She ran.
Somehow, he stayed put. He wasn’t rewarded for his effort, though. Holton threw three pitches, and Jalen knew only one of them. Part of the reason might have been Yager standing right there in front of him. Jalen tried to convince himself that was the problem and that he’d be fine when Yager got up.
It was a 1–2 count when a fastball came in that Jalen hadn’t seen coming. Joe Ros reared back and blasted it. Jalen held his breath.
49
THE WHITE SOX RIGHT FIELDER leaped at the wall and snagged Joe Ros’s hit. The cheering crowd deflated. The runners slowed and jogged back to the dugout. Ahead 1–0, but it should have been more. Yager held his bat in what looked like a death grip. He gave Jalen a grim look and returned to the dugout for his glove. The White Sox had given Jalen some time, but that was all. Yager would be up in the second inning no matter what happened.