And Don't Bring Jeremy

by Marilyn Levinson

  But I had no problem with pitching. I tried out my new curveball and walked the first man up. Then I struck out the next two batters. The fourth man up was a mean-looking seventh grader who swung at everything I threw. On the count of 0 and 2, I threw him a fastball and he bounced it back to me. Holding my mitt low, I scooped up the ball and threw it to Eddie on first. He reached for it, but not far enough, and the ball sailed over his right shoulder, landing close to where my father was sitting. Eddie jerked around and ran after the ball, then threw it to second. Too late. The runner was safe. Mark threw it to me, a disgusted look on his face.

  Eddie came running over to me, his face red with fury. “Thanks for the wild throw, Krasner.” His voice was loud and sarcastic.

  I was embarrassed, flustered, and sore. “But I didn’t throw wild. You just didn’t catch it.”

  “Yeah, we know. That’s what you say. You’re as dumb as your brother.”

  “Just keep my brother out of it. You’re not so smart yourself if you have to blame your mistakes on other people.”

  At that, Eddie’s face turned red. Before I could move he hauled off and punched me on the shoulder. Hard. I reeled from the pain. An arm reached out to steady me. It was Mr. Gordon.

  “Are you all right?” he asked, concerned.

  I nodded, afraid that if I spoke I’d say something stupid.

  The umpire, a short, fat man, was glaring at Eddie. “Any further incidents like that and you’re out of the game.”

  Mr. Gordon looked at Eddie. “I’ll deal with you later. Now get back on base right now or I’ll bench you myself.”

  Eddie headed for first base. Then he turned and gave me a strange smile. My hand formed a fist. Boy, did I want to get him back. Mr. Gordon cleared his throat. “I apologize for my son,” he said. “Do you want to finish out the inning?”

  “I sure do,” I answered, sounding braver than I felt. I walked to the mound and Mr. Gordon returned to his coaching position near first base.

  “Play ball,” called the umpire.

  I wound up to throw my first pitch, still shaky. I was positive that my throw to Eddie was good. And even if it wasn’t…

  “Ball two,” the umpire called out.

  I gritted my teeth and tried one of my fastballs.

  “Ball three.”

  I looked around. Eddie was still smirking. Everyone else just stared back at me. Everyone but Danny. He gave me the all-right circle with his thumb and finger. What the heck, I thought, feeling a little better. I’ve nothing to lose. I concentrated and pitched a curveball.

  “Strike one.”

  Another curveball. The batter decided to swing. He hit a fly ball near second and Mark was under it for the third out. Thank God the inning was over.

  We won 4–2, our second win in a row. Boy, did our team cheer and yell—everyone, that is, except me. Mr. Gordon gave us a good pep talk, about how we worked together to win as a team. He spoke about “the unfortunate incident” that had better not happen again, all the time giving Eddie a dirty look. Eddie looked down at the ground while his father was talking, but the minute we were dismissed he grinned at me strangely, just as he had after his father had reprimanded him.

  Dad offered to take me to Friendly’s for an ice cream soda, and I said okay. We didn’t talk in the car; Dad must have known I didn’t feel like it. He always knew things like that.

  We sat down in a booth and I ordered my usual—pistachio ice cream with hot fudge sauce and nuts. Dad ordered a cup of coffee.

  “You’re some pitcher,” he said. “I’m really very proud of you.”

  “Thanks,” I mumbled, suddenly shy. Dad wasn’t one for compliments.

  “I mean it.” He smiled. “And just for the record, your throw to first base was good.”

  “Was it? I thought so, only—”

  “Only that Eddie came on so strong, you began to wonder. He’s some nasty kid, punching you like that. No wonder Jeremy doesn’t like him.”

  “I can’t understand why he’d do a thing like that,” I said, shaking my head. “It’s almost like he can’t admit he’s not Superman on the baseball field.”

  “Forget about it and eat your sundae. Your ice cream is beginning to melt.”

  I smiled, appreciating Dad’s tact. But I couldn’t forget about it. Eddie had changed. Everything had changed.

  CHAPTER 5

  I kept pretty close to home the next few days. Monday morning I dreaded going to school, but I couldn’t turn into a complete hermit, could I? I expected everyone in school to look at me like I had two pairs of eyes. I mean, they must have heard about what happened between Eddie and me on Saturday. And although Danny and Mark didn’t have a high opinion of Eddie, I could tell lots of kids thought he was pretty terrific. But no one said a word about it, not even Danny.

  “I won’t be able to work on the sets the next few days,” he told me during lunchtime. “My sister and I have to stay at Mark’s house this week because our parents went on a cruise.”

  “Oh,” I said. I shrugged my shoulders as if I didn’t care, but I really felt as though Danny were deserting me.

  “I’ll see you at the softball game,” he said airily.

  The softball game! I sure wasn’t going to play in that game and let Eddie have another swipe at me. That strange grin he gave me twice let me know he didn’t care what the umpire or his father had said. He’d get back at me. “I—I can’t play this week. I have to help Jeremy with his work.” Since we were in the same class, I couldn’t very well tell Danny that I had too much homework.

  Danny looked at me in a funny way, as if he knew I was lying. I could tell I was blushing from the way my face felt warm. Thank God the bell rang, marking the end of recess. Danny and I walked into the building, neither of us saying one word.

  After school I walked home slowly, thinking that maybe I was making too much of what had happened Saturday. But I couldn’t help it. Whenever some kid other than my friends Billy and Kenny from my old neighborhood started in on me, I just crumbled. Oh, sure, I said all the right things and even got into a few fistfights and held my own, but inside I always felt that the other kid came out ahead. That soon all the other kids would turn on me and make fun of me—like they made fun of Jeremy. I guess that’s what came of having a brother like Jeremy. If someone hurt my feelings, I withdrew. Like a turtle, my mother always said.

  The house was unusually quiet since Jeremy didn’t come home until three-thirty. I took some chocolate chip cookies and a glass of milk, then started on my homework.

  “Oh, you’re home,” Jeremy said when he walked through the door.

  I grinned. For some strange reason I was glad to see him. He looked sloppy as usual—his polo shirt half out of his pants.

  “Boy, do I have a lot of homework,” he said, dropping his books on the kitchen table. “Review, review, review. That’s all those teachers know.”

  “I’ll help you,” I offered, glad to have something to do.

  “How can you?” Jeremy asked, suddenly suspicious. “You’re only in the sixth grade, remember?”

  I goofed. Jeremy knew I could read and do math better than he could, but he hated to admit it. “Well, you show me what you have to do,” I said, “and we could do it together. Like a game.”

  His face brightened. “Yeah, that would be nice. Too bad Mrs. Dawson doesn’t come today. She’s never here to help me when I really need her.”

  Jeremy put a cookie in his mouth just as the phone rang. He ignored the ring as he always did. But I didn’t want to answer the phone. What if it was Eddie? It rang again.

  “Answer it,” I told him.

  “You answer it,” he mumbled through his half-chewed cookie. “I’m eating.”

  The phone rang again.

  “Please,” I said. “I won’t help you with your homework if you don’t.”

  “Oh, all right.” Jeremy picked up the phone at the end of the fourth ring. “Hello,” he said angrily into the receiver.

&
nbsp; “I’m not home,” I whispered, but he was too busy listening to the caller to hear me.

  “Just a minute,” he said into the receiver. Then he turned to me. “It’s for you. Eddie Gordon.”

  “I told you, I’m not home,” I said through clenched teeth.

  “Just a minute,” he repeated into the phone. At least he had the sense to put his hand over the receiver. “What do you mean,” he asked me, “you’re not home?”

  “Just tell him I can’t talk now.”

  I left the kitchen, not wanting to hear what he said to Eddie. After he hung up he followed me to my room.

  “He said he’d call back later. Why didn’t you want to talk to him? I thought he was your friend.”

  “I just didn’t, that’s all,” I snapped. “Look, if you want me to help you, let’s get started. And if Eddie calls again, tell him I’m not home or I’m busy or something. Understand?”

  Jeremy shrugged. “It’s your life,” he said.

  I reviewed some math with him, which was easy because it was really fourth- or fifth-grade level and this was the subject I was particularly good in. Then I got on my bicycle and went riding around the neighborhood. From a distance I could see the kids playing ball in the school yard. I wanted to stop and get into the game, but I didn’t. What if Eddie was there? He usually came down to play. I didn’t want to see him or speak to him. I was sick and tired of his insults and angry that he hit me, but as far as I could see, there wasn’t very much I could do about it except keep away. I didn’t know how Danny and Mark managed to play ball with him and not get in the way of his temper. It was probably because Mark was bigger and stronger than he was, and Eddie knew he would stick up for Danny, too.

  When I finally got home Jeremy told me that Eddie had called again, to see if I was going to play ball that afternoon.

  “What did you tell him?” I asked.

  “That I didn’t know. That you were out riding your bike.”

  “Good.”

  “I still don’t get what’s going on here.”

  “That’s all right,” I told him. “Don’t worry about it.”

  Thank goodness Eddie didn’t call back that night. I mean, what could I say to him? Keep away—you hurt my feelings and I don’t want to be your friend anymore? Naw. That was silly. I’d just avoid him as best I could.

  * * *

  The next afternoon, Mrs. Dawson came to tutor Jeremy. She was a small, plump older woman who smiled a lot. From the sounds coming from the kitchen, I could tell she was making a game out of his reviewing—just like I did yesterday. Jeremy must have gotten fidgety toward the end of the hour because I heard her say, “You’ll have to pay attention if you hope to learn anything.” By the time she left, at four-thirty, she wasn’t smiling anymore.

  Jeremy let out a big sigh as he closed the door behind her. “Thank God that’s over. But at least I got my homework done.”

  “Me, too,” I said. I suddenly realized that I didn’t know what I was going to do with the rest of the afternoon.

  Jeremy’s face lit up. “Let’s get out of here. Let’s go visit Tommy.”

  “Who’s Tommy?”

  Jeremy was hurt. “Don’t you remember? Tommy Stein. He’s that little kid I met the first time you went over to Danny’s house.”

  “I didn’t know you still see him.”

  “Sure. Whenever I ride my bike I stop over there. He’s usually reading outside his house. And now he waits for me, to see if I’ll come.”

  I didn’t say anything because I didn’t want to hurt Jeremy’s feelings, but who wanted to go and play with some little kid?

  Jeremy tugged at my arm. “Come on and meet him. He’s a nice kid.”

  I started to shake my arm loose and tell Jeremy to stop acting crazy, but I saw his face. He was all excited. He looked the way he did when he worked in his vegetable garden.

  “All right. Let’s go and see Tommy,” I agreed. “I sure don’t have anything better to do.”

  Tommy was sitting on his front steps reading comic books. He was skinny and small, small even for a kid in third grade, and his glasses kept sliding down his nose. As soon as he saw Jeremy he jumped up and ran toward him. I’d never seen anyone so happy to see my brother before.

  “Hey, Jeremy,” he shouted, hopping up and down, “I just knew you’d come today. We can finish our game of ghosts in the castle.” Then he noticed me and began stammering. “Who—who’s this? How come—I mean, I didn’t know you brought someone with you.”

  “This is my brother, Adam,” Jeremy said. He sounded proud of me. “He’s a pitcher on his Little League team.”

  It was my turn to be embarrassed. “Yeah, well—hi, Tommy.”

  Jeremy laughed. I’d never seen him so delighted. “I finally got you two together. My two brothers.”

  Shyly, Tommy looked me up and down. “Does he like to play make-believe games, too?”

  “He used to,” Jeremy explained. “But now he likes sports.”

  “Not like us?” Tommy asked seriously.

  “No, not like us.”

  We stood there, not knowing what to do next. Finally I said, “Why don’t you two go play your game? I’ll stay here and read these comic books.”

  Jeremy looked at me questioningly. “You sure you don’t mind?”

  “Naw,” I said, sorry I’d come with him in the first place. I couldn’t help thinking about the softball game going on this very minute.

  Jeremy looked relieved. “We usually play in Tommy’s backyard. He has lots of trees and bushes to hide behind.”

  I sure didn’t want to watch Jeremy making a fool out of himself, hiding behind bushes with this little kid. “I’ll stay right here on the front steps,” I said.

  “Okay.” Jeremy took off in his funny run, Tommy right behind him. Two strange ducks, I thought, and one of them has to be my brother.

  I read the two Archie comics quickly. Again I had nothing to do. I decided to walk around to the back and tell Jeremy I was leaving.

  My brother was standing over Tommy, his arms outstretched. He spoke in deep, ominous tones: “I will throw you into my dungeon and tear you apart, limb by limb, if you do not tell me where the jewels are hidden.”

  I almost burst out laughing. Thirteen years old and still acting like a clown.

  Tommy was down on his knees. With his hands clasped together and his sad expression, he looked like he was about to cry. “Oh, please don’t hurt me, Morgan,” he whimpered. “I cannot tell you where the treasure is. It isn’t mine and—” He broke off when he realized I was standing there watching.

  “Sorry,” I apologized. “I just came to tell you I’m going home.”

  “All right,” Jeremy said in his normal voice. “See you later.”

  I rode home thinking about Jeremy and Tommy. Jeremy sure was weird, playing make-believe games with a little kid. But looking at it from his point of view, I couldn’t blame him. He had no friends his own age. He didn’t like sports or computers or board games. And there was little Tommy Stein, crazy about him. Even I could see that. Tommy actually looked up to my brother. He had to be the only person in the whole world who did.

  Since I had nothing to do when I got home, I figured I’d tackle something Mom had been after me for weeks to take care of—cleaning out my junk. I started on my desk drawers, throwing out old pencils without erasers, last year’s baseball cards, and other things. The wastepaper basket was half full, and I was about to start on my bookcase when I heard a noise behind me. I spun around. Mom was standing in the doorway.

  “Hi,” she said, smiling. “Whatever are you doing?”

  “Cleaning out my room.”

  “Finally.” She glanced at the junk I’d thrown out. Then, instead of being pleased like I thought she’d be, she frowned.

  “Is everything all right, Adam? I mean, you don’t usually stay home on a sunny afternoon to clean your room. Why aren’t you outside playing ball?”

  “I—I just didn’t feel
like it.”

  She looked at me closely. “Does it have anything to do with Eddie Gordon?” she asked. “Dad told me what happened during the game on Saturday.”

  “I guess. A little.”

  Mom made that funny sound through her nose that always meant she was exasperated. “I think you’re being too sensitive. Kids always blame the next one when they’ve made a mistake.”

  I just nodded. Mom didn’t know Eddie, how he could be nice one minute and nasty the next. “I’ll probably play ball tomorrow,” I said, just so she wouldn’t go on about it.

  “Where’s Jeremy?” she asked.

  “Out riding.”

  “Do you know where he went? I hate when he just rides aimlessly around. I worry that he won’t watch out for cars.”

  “Don’t worry,” I said. “He’s safe where he is.” Too late. By trying to make Mom relax I got Jeremy into trouble.

  “So he’s over at little Tommy Stein’s house again,” she said, sighing. “And he knows how we feel about it, too.”

  “He’s a nice kid, Mom,” I said, trying to make up for squealing on Jeremy. “I met him today. He really likes Jeremy.”

  Mom looked me straight in the eyes. “Don’t you think that your brother is too old to be playing with third graders?”

  I blushed. My thoughts exactly. But I had to help Jeremy. “They like to play the same games.”

  Mom bowed her head and put her hand on her forehead. “You don’t understand. With Jeremy’s difficulties, he needs someone who will teach him to behave appropriately. Not encourage him to act immaturely.”

  “Tommy’s smart,” I said.

  “Thank God for that,” she said, and left the room.

  * * *

  That night we were just finishing dinner when Mom dropped her bombshell. She turned to my brother and said in her sweetest voice: “Jeremy dear, I really don’t want to have to forbid you, but you must know that your father and I are not at all happy about your playing with that little boy. What’s his name? Tommy?”