Detours and Designs

by Matt Fazio

  “Almost,” Jeff said excitedly. “I need two hundred forty dollars and I have two twenty-five. And my neighbor said she’d give me fifteen bucks to help her clean out her basement next week. And then I’ll have a brand new bike.”

  “How’d you save up all that money?” asked Caleb.

  “Bunch of ways. I traded in some old video games, and I got extra money for Christmas from my Pap.”

  Drew could see the pain in Jeff’s face as soon as he said the words. It was as though Jeff, for just a second, forgot his Pap was gone.

  The next few cycles of throwing were silent. Drew figured it was best to stay quiet – resuming the conversation or changing the subject seemed like it would be disrespectful to Pap – but Tommy picked up right where they left off.

  “I always spend money as soon as I get it,” he said.

  To Drew’s surprise, Jeff answered quickly and unoffended: “And that’s why I’m gonna have a cooler bike than you.”

  “Yeah, yeah,” Tommy said as he whipped the ball to Caleb.

  “Ya know,” said Caleb, “you might have a cooler bike, but so what? You’re still not better at baseball.”

  “I’m just as good as you, Caleb,” Jeff contended.

  “Yeah, right. I guarantee I could strike you out.”

  “No way!” said Jeff. He fired the ball to Tommy much harder than before. The mitt popped like it was an exclamation point to Jeff’s response.

  “Yes huh! You’re lucky we’re on the same team, or I’d be striking you out all the time.”

  “No, I could definitely crush one off you!”

  “Okay, prove it,” said Caleb.

  “How?”

  “I’ll pitch to you right here in the street.”

  “Yeah, right.”

  “Yeah. What’s the matter? You scared I’ll strike you out?” Caleb sneered.

  “No. You still mad Zobby struck you out?” Jeff bit back. It was unlike Jeff to be so aggressive, but he seemed to have gained some mettle since his Pap’s death.

  “Man, you gotta be kidding me,” said Caleb. “We’ve been over this. It was one time …” Now he shot venom with his words: “Plus, I’m a better athlete than all of you.”

  All three other boys’ eyes widened, and a moment of stunned silence passed.

  “Stop being a baby and get up to bat. I’ll show you up right now,” Caleb continued.

  “No,” said Jeff, clearly agitated. “We’re not even on a field. And the field at the park is still too muddy. We don’t even have a mound, or a catcher, or an ump!”

  “So? Here, this’ll be the plate …” Caleb grabbed Jeff’s mitt off his hand and slapped it on the pavement. Then he walked several paces up the street. “I’ll pitch from here. This is about the space from the mound to home plate. Tommy can catch and Drew can be the umpire.”

  “But we don’t have catcher’s equipment,” Jeff argued.

  “Yeah, I’m not catching without a mask … or a cup,” said Tommy. “I guess I shoulda looked harder for a tennis ball, huh?”

  Caleb thought for a moment. “Okay, so Drew and Tommy can stand like ten feet behind the plate and call balls and strikes. And they can catch the pitches that get past. ‘Cause trust me, they will get past. Three of ‘em, right in a row. And when I strike you out, no more Zobby jokes. If you even hit one off me, I’ll admit you’re better than me – unless you just wanna admit now that I’m better than you.”

  Jeff was fuming. “Fine! Let’s do it!” He grabbed the bat and got into his batting stance.

  Caleb peered over the top of his mitt, trying to intimidate his opponent.

  “Pitch it,” Jeff demanded.

  Drew and Tommy stood about 15 feet behind Jeff.

  “Maybe this isn’t such a good idea,” said Drew.

  “It’s not a good idea for him ‘cause I’m gonna smash one right over his head!” Jeff bellowed.

  Caleb was already in his wind-up. He turned, reached back, and threw the ball as hard as he could. It landed a foot in front of the plate, but Jeff swung anyway. It bounced past him and into Tommy’s mitt.

  “Ha, that’s strike one,” Caleb boasted.

  “C’mon, Jeff, that was way too low,” said Drew. He forgot he had been opposed to this challenge, and he now found himself rooting for his best friend to blast one over Caleb’s head.

  Tommy tossed the ball back to Caleb.

  “Pitch it again,” Jeff growled, wringing the bat.

  Caleb had a sly smile on his face. He wound up and pitched the ball. This pitch was a little faster than the first, but it was right down the middle. Jeff swung hard, but again the bat made no contact with the ball. It flew past him, bounced once, and Drew snagged it.

  “Steee-rike two!” Caleb roared.

  “Shut up. You’re not the umpire,” said Jeff.

  Caleb laughed. “One more strike and you’re out.”

  “Count’s nothing and two,” said Tommy.

  Caleb took off his hat and ran his hand through his hair. With his glove tucked under his arm, he put his hat back on and rubbed the ball hard with his bare hands. “Sorry, Jeff, this will only take a sec. The ball’s all scuffed up since it hit the street … you know, ‘stead of your bat.”

  Jeff waited in the invisible batter’s box with the bat held high.

  “What, no comeback?” said Caleb.

  “Just pitch.”

  The next pitch was Caleb’s attempt at a curveball. Just like when he threw to Drew, the ball bounced several feet before its intended destination. Jeff let this one pass him.

  “Ball one. One ball, two strikes,” said Tommy.

  “That was my curve,” said Caleb.

  “Oh, good one,” Jeff said sarcastically. “You might wanna stick to hockey.”

  “Shut up. I won’t waste my time anymore. Here comes strike three.”

  Caleb wound up and delivered the pitch.

  “C’mon, Jeff, you got this,” Drew whispered to himself. He found himself rooting against Caleb just as much as he was rooting for Jeff.

  The ball sizzled toward the plate. Jeff swung. Ping! The ball jumped from the bat and towered over Caleb’s head and above the treetop horizon. The bat dropped from Jeff’s hands. Each boy stood and watched, helplessly frozen by the soaring white dot. It descended toward a red-brick house up the street.

  The unmistakable sound of shattering glass filled the air. Drew felt certain the entire neighborhood must have heard it.

  ****

  “Oh, crap!” Caleb shouted.

  Each boy’s eyes darted around, first at each other, then at their surroundings. They ran toward the house but stopped as soon as they were close enough to see the damage. A rectangular window on the right side of the red-brick house was broken. Only jagged shards around the edge remained.

  “Look what you did, Jeff,” said Caleb.

  Jeff’s lips quivered, but no words escaped. His face was a mask of shock, fear, and guilt.

  “We gotta get outta here,” said Tommy.

  Finally Jeff spoke. “I … This is your fault, Caleb.”

  “Me? You hit it. And Tommy’s the one who made us use a hardball.”

  “What? You can’t blame me,” said Tommy.

  “You can’t blame me either,” said Caleb. “If I get in trouble for this, my parents will seriously ground me forever.”

  “But …” Jeff started. He looked like he was going to be sick. He turned his pale face to Drew in desperation, and Drew knew exactly what he was thinking. If Jeff got in trouble for this, his parents would make him use his bike money to pay for the window.

  A pair of headlights emerged from the end of the street.

  “Someone’s coming,” said Tommy.

  “Run! We’ll go to Tommy’s house,” said Caleb, taking off down the street.

  Without hesitation, Tommy picked up the remaining evidence – his bat – and followed Caleb.

  “Come on, guys!” Caleb shouted back to Jeff and Drew.

  Jeff look
ed to Drew. He gave an apologetic shrug of the shoulders, picked up his mitt, and took off after Caleb and Tommy. The car slowed down and pulled into a driveway several houses up the street. A woman got out of the car and walked into her house without even looking in Drew’s direction. And those guys ran away as if –

  “Hey!” Mr. Kaminsky had emerged from his front door. He lumbered toward Drew, clenching the baseball in his meaty hand.

  “Drew? My kitchen window – did you see who did this?”

  “I … I …”

  He looked back, hoping his friends had decided to return to the scene of the crime and turn themselves in, or at least admit some fault, but no one was there. He was all alone. The only thing he could think to say was, “It was me. I broke your window.”

  Tommy brought the hardball, Caleb made the challenge, and Jeff hit the ball that smashed the window. So how did I end up taking the fall?

  ****

  “Let’s go talk to your mom,” said Mr. Kaminsky.

  When they walked through the front door, Penny was on the phone with a potential home buyer.

  “If you want to put in an offer, I’d do it soon. There just aren’t many houses like it in the North Hills area, so it won’t be available much longer. But something just came up. Think it over, and I’ll give you a call back first thing tomorrow morning. … Okay, Nicole, sounds good.”

  “Hi, Penny.”

  “Hey, Mike. Everything okay?”

  “Well,” said Mr. Kaminsky, “my kitchen window is broken to pieces, and, well, your son apparently knows how it happened.”

  Why did Mr. Kaminsky say it like that? Drew wondered. Why didn’t he just tell her I broke the window?

  “Drew …” Penny said with sudden anger in her voice. “What happened?”

  “Well, we were playing baseball in the street, and –”

  “But you were using a tennis ball, weren’t you?” She hadn’t noticed the baseball in Mr. Kaminsky’s hand.

  “We couldn’t find one, so we used a baseball. But we were being careful.”

  “So how did Mr. Kaminsky’s window happen to break?”

  Drew thought one last time about telling the truth. He wanted to tell them exactly what happened: Tommy brought the hardball, Caleb initiated the confrontation, and Jeff hit the ball. He also wanted to tell them he was the only one who said using the baseball was a bad idea. But, for some reason, he found himself telling a different story.

  “Um, the other guys went home, and I just wanted to hit one more pop-up to myself. I thought it would go straight up in the air. But I hit it too hard, and it ended up going through Mr. Kaminsky’s window.”

  Drew had lied to his dad about The Shack, he lied to everyone about Trevor, and now he was lying again. Each time, it seemed to be the only option he had. Lying was the only way his friends would be safe and Jeff could still get his bike.

  “So, is that how it happened?” said Mr. Kaminsky.

  Penny shook her head side to side.

  “Mike, we will obviously pay for the window,” she said. “Let me know how much it costs and we’ll take care of it. Drew, did you tell Mr. Kaminsky how sorry you are?”

  “I’m really sorry, Mr. Kaminsky. It really was an accident, I swear.”

  “I know, Drew. Accidents do happen,” said Mr. Kaminsky. He looked over at Penny as she sighed and rubbed the side of her face. He turned to walk out the door but stopped and said, “You like to paint, right, Drew?”

  “Yeah, I guess.”

  “Well, the fence in my backyard needs painted. I’m not sure I’ll have time to do it, and the arthritis in my hand has been acting up. I was gonna pay someone to do it next weekend, since this sunny weather is supposed to hold up for at least another week. But here’s an idea – you could paint the fence for me, and then we’ll call it even. Of course, I’d still expect you to do a good job.”

  Mr. Kaminsky was looking at Drew but seemed to be talking to Penny. “Of course, this is only if it’s okay with your mom.”

  “Oh, Mike, are you sure about this?”

  “Sure I’m sure. I got to see the mural Drew painted on the swing set at the park before the storm hit. I saw how hard he worked on it. If he puts that same effort into the fence, he’ll do fine.” He turned back to Drew. “I know it doesn’t sound like as much fun, but whadda ya say? Do we have a deal?” He extended his hand toward Drew.

  Drew looked at his mom. Her expression seemed to indicate approval. Feeling like there was no other option, Drew accepted the gesture and said, “All right, Mr. Kaminsky. It’s a deal.”

  “Good. Be at my house Saturday at nine a.m.” He stopped before he was out the door and turned back. “And Drew …” He smiled and tossed the baseball to him. “Don’t be late.”

  ****

  While Drew waited for his mom to start yelling at him, he wasn’t thinking about the painting, the swing set, the window, or even the picture on page 139. Instead, he was thinking about Jeff’s bike. Jeff had run so he wouldn’t have to spend his bike savings on a new window. But, as it turned out, he never would’ve had to pay the money anyway. And now Drew was still left to bear the blame.

  “Andrew, go to your room now.”

  “But just –”

  “No, none of that. I am furious with you.” Penny picked up the phone from the table next to the couch.

  “Who are you calling?” Drew asked.

  “Your father.”

  “Oh, why?”

  “Drew, enough. Get to your room.”

  Drew slunk out of the living room and grabbed the phone from the kitchen on his way. When he got to his room he turned it on, covering the end with his hand and breathing lightly so his eavesdropping couldn’t be detected.

  “I’ve told him a million times not to use a hardball in the street. It’s like he doesn’t get it,” Penny was saying.

  Drew heard what he recognized as a frustrated sigh from his dad.

  “All right, how much is it gonna cost?”

  “Well, actually …” Penny explained Mr. Kaminsky’s suggestion.

  “I don’t know about that, Pen.”

  Drew knew his dad would be unsure about Mr. Kaminsky’s idea. Mr. Daley never liked to take shortcuts that would leave him feeling like he owed something to somebody.

  “I think it would be good for him,” said Penny.

  “Do you think he learned his lesson?” Mr. Daley asked.

  “I just don’t know anymore. I thought the whole thing with the woods would have calmed him down. He seemed to be fine, but now this. It’s starting to feel like one thing after another. And before you know it, it’ll be summer, which is always difficult because then he has even more free time.”

  “He’ll be all right.”

  “I know he’ll be all right, Ryan. But I want more than that for him. Drew’s a good kid, but he gets into some bad situations.”

  “Think that has anything to do with that Caleb kid?” Mr. Daley asked.

  “I don’t know, he seems harmless. Maybe just a little more outgoing.”

  “I dunno, Pen, he seems kind of like a schemer. I –”

  “So are you saying you don’t want Drew to paint the fence?”

  After a pause, Mr. Daley said, “No, it’s fine. He can paint the fence. I know Kaminsky’s a good guy. If that’s what he wants to do, that’s fine. Wait, hold on … yeah, that’s my boss on the other line. I have to take this.”

  “All right.”

  “Tell Drew I’ll catch up with him later.”

  Drew wished he’d never picked up the phone in the first place. He shouldn’t have heard all that. The disappointment in his mom’s tone. The irritation from his dad. It was too much to take.

  For the first time ever, Drew resented his friends, even Jeff. Drew did nothing wrong, but he had to pay. It was his Saturday that was wasted, not theirs. It was his parents who were disappointed, not theirs. After all he had done for his friends, he felt betrayed.

  He had trouble falling asleep
that night. His head was filled with the sound of shattering glass, and he was still bothered by his parents’ conversation. He turned on his light and opened his science book to page 139. The drawing of the ocean shore hidden away inside the book was a lot like Mrs. McGrath’s dandelions – neither belonged. But Drew didn’t care for Mrs. McGrath’s theory.

  Who gets to pick where something fits in?

  After studying the picture for a few moments, the sound of breaking glass was replaced by the sound of breaking waves.

  ****

  Monday morning began with a lecture. Penny admonished Drew about using a hardball in the street just as she had done many times before, but this time she spoke in the “I told you so” tone adults seem to relish.

  “And you understand why I’m upset, right? It’s okay to play baseball with a hardball at a field, but not in the street. The same way it would be fine to scream and yell at a ball game but not in school.”

  It was one thing to be punished for going to The Shack – he knew he deserved that. But Drew didn’t have much interest in being scolded for something he didn’t do, so this lecture fell on deaf ears.

  To make matters worse, when he got to school he didn’t receive the hero’s welcome he had expected. He thought Jeff, Tommy, and Caleb would be grateful for his sacrifice, but none of them mentioned the incident at all. And, because no one brought it up, the others didn’t even know Drew had gotten caught, or that he’d be painting a fence on Saturday.

  Instead, most of the conversation all week (especially during lunch) was dominated by the big birthday party Tia Cardiff was having on Saturday. The entire fifth grade was invited, along with many other kids. Tia’s family lived in the biggest house in Emerson. On Monday everyone was talking about how they had a basketball court and a heated indoor swimming pool. On Tuesday everyone was talking about how a magician would be at the party. On Wednesday Skylar told Drew she was going to be there, which meant Drew would miss out on spending time with the only other person he had found who appreciated the ocean shore drawing.

  By Thursday Drew couldn’t take it any longer. He quickly ate his packed lunch and asked Mr. Frye, who was on cafeteria duty, if he could go to his locker to get his lunch card. He couldn’t sit and listen to everyone talk about a party he wouldn’t be able to attend.