by Tim Green
“Wow,” Josh said.
“And the secret to it all,” Rocky said, pointing toward the wall behind them, where the door was, “is that stuff, Super Stax. That’s how you do it to it.”
Josh twisted his head around and looked back at the stacks of quart-sized cans he’d noticed when he’d walked in.
“It got me big,” Rocky said, pointing toward the trophies and then to the Wall of Fame, “then it got me rich.”
Rocky looked from Josh’s father back to him and said, “But when you’ve got money and success, then you want to share it, and that’s what I love to do more than anything. Your dad? A talent. I knew it the first time I saw him play. Intensity, that’s what he’s got. It reminded me of myself. And now you.”
Rocky opened a drawer in his desk, took out a can of Super Stax, and thumped it down on the gleaming mahogany surface.
“This stuff will get you everything you’ve always dreamed of,” Rocky said, staring hard at Josh. “It’s good and it’s clean. Nothing in it that isn’t found in nature, and it gives you the edge you need to train harder and get bigger and stronger and faster. This first one’s on me.”
Rocky pushed the can across his desk at Josh. Under the name it said: NEW IMPROVED BANANA FLAVOR. Josh looked at his father, who beamed and nodded for him to go ahead.
“It’s that simple,” Rocky said, standing up and turning toward the field below. “Five teaspoons of this powder in a glass of milk and you’re on your way. I saw your skills. You’ve got the raw materials. Now, if you follow me, we’ll do it to it.”
Rocky spun on them and extended a meaty hand.
“Deal?” he asked.
Josh let Rocky swallow his hand in an iron grip and did his best to keep his bones from crumbling as he shook. Josh’s dad clasped the coach’s hand, too, and they shook, grinning at each other.
Josh’s dad—normally gruff and quiet—bubbled like a giddy child on the way home.
“I saw you hit,” he said. “You were great. You reminded me of me. Better. I couldn’t hit like that. You’re twelve, but you’re big enough and good enough to play with kids two years older, and those kids are the best around. This is going to work, Josh. I know it is. It’s what I needed.”
His father looked over at him, and his face grew serious. “It’s what I never had.”
Josh sat quietly for a minute before he said, “They said it won’t be so easy after lifting weights for an hour. I don’t know about the weights thing. I never did that.”
His father waved a hand in the air as they pulled off the highway and turned up the hill into their north-side neighborhood.
“I talked to Rocky about that,” he said. “People used to think kids shouldn’t lift until fourteen or fifteen; but all the experts are saying now that kids can start a lot earlier, especially with Super Stax. Josh, if I had what you’re going to get—this kind of training—who knows how far I could have gone? I guarantee I would have been in the Majors. You don’t realize it because you’re so much better than the kids you play with, but that’s the problem. You get out into the real world—the real world of baseball—and you realize you can’t just be good. You have to be great.”
Josh said nothing until they pulled into their garage.
“I’d rather play with my friends, Dad,” he said.
His father shut off the car and stared at him. The engine ticked, and his father’s breathing filled the car. Finally, he said, “You have no idea, Josh. You think friends are important? You want to be a pro player, don’t you?”
Josh nodded.
“In the big leagues?”
“Yes.”
Josh’s dad gripped a handful of his son’s shirt and pulled Josh close.
“Then you’ll do what I tell you,” his father said in a tense whisper. “What happened to me isn’t going to happen to you. If I had someone like Rocky, I’d be in Toronto right now. No, I would have been in New York with the Mets. I didn’t have the strength. I had all the talent but none of the training.”
Josh watched his father’s eyes, the yellow rings expanding and contracting around the deep brown irises that made Josh think of the black holes in space, holes so dense and full of mass that they suck in everything—light, planets, even suns and stars—from light-years away. For a moment Josh didn’t recognize his father, so distant were those eyes. A shiver ran down his spine, and he realized his father was waiting for him to reply.
CHAPTER TWELVE
“OKAY,” JOSH SAID.
“Good,” his father said, releasing him and getting out of the car.
Josh followed his father out the garage door, across the driveway, and into the kitchen. The smell of beef stew greeted them along with the smiling faces of both Benji and, to Josh’s surprise, Jaden Neidermeyer. Josh’s mom had set out two extra places at the small kitchen table, putting him between Jaden and Benji. Benji ate dinner with them often. Since Josh’s best friend lived alone with his mom and she worked most evenings, Benji had his own place at their kitchen table. Jaden, on the other hand, hadn’t even met Josh’s mom until twenty minutes ago.
“Your friends were worried about you,” his mom explained as she bent over the high chair to put a bib on Josh’s little sister, Laurel. “Benji’s staying for dinner, so I invited Jaden, too. Benji, fill the glasses for me, will you?”
Josh’s father said hello to their guests, then plunked the Super Stax down on the counter.
“Make sure you get five tablespoons into your milk,” he said to Josh before disappearing to wash his hands. Josh washed his own hands in the kitchen sink before stirring the Super Stax into his milk glass. Jaden watched him, and he eyed her suspiciously. He’d seen her around plenty in school but had never really spoken to her until yesterday.
The pace of her involvement in his life was disconcerting. First she writes the glowing article about him in the school paper, then she sits with him at lunch, and the next thing he knows, she’s having dinner with his family. Benji wagged his eyebrows at Josh as he poured the milk. Josh answered Benji’s smirk with a dirty look. He could imagine what Benji was thinking: At this rate Josh would be married to her by next week.
Jaden sat with her hands and napkin in her lap, her back straight, and her wild, frizzy hair pulled back with a wide green ribbon.
“I came to do a follow-up story,” she said to Josh, picking up the notebook underneath her leg, showing it to him, then replacing it, “and your mom asked me if I like beef stew.”
Josh sat down and shot his mom a glance. She had her back to them, working over a steaming cauldron on the stove, then draining off a pot of noodles in the sink. His father walked back into the kitchen, kissed Laurel on the cheek, and studied Josh’s face, waiting for him to answer Jaden.
Josh knew—after years of having dinner guests of all kinds—better than to be impolite. He’d find himself grounded for a week if he did anything to make Jaden feel unwelcome.
“Great,” Josh said, sitting down beside her with his milk. “My mom makes the best.”
Josh put the glass to his lips and swallowed tentatively. His milk tasted like rotten bananas and cough medicine. Josh made a sour face.
“What’s wrong?” his father said, scowling.
“Nothing,” Josh said, forcing a smile onto his face, holding his breath, and gulping down his milk.
“Did you know Jaden’s dad is a doctor at the hospital?” Josh’s mom asked as she set a bowl of stew down on the table along with a bowl of noodles. “He works all kinds of crazy hours.”
“Wow,” Josh said.
“He’s a resident physician,” Jaden said, beaming proudly.
Her southern accent seemed more subdued than it had when she spoke in the cafeteria, and Josh wondered if it got more pronounced when she was nervous.
“When he’s done,” Jaden said, “he’ll be an orthopedic surgeon. Hopefully, he’ll work for the Yankees.”
Benji wrinkled his nose and said, “Yankees? I thought you were from South
Carolina.”
“Texas,” Jaden said, slipping into the drawl, “but my father grew up in New York, and we’re Yankees fans.”
“Dude,” Benji said, “they stink.”
“You might say that if you’re a fan of the Red Sox or one of the other lesser teams,” Jaden said calmly, “but then you’d be denying the dominance of the franchise throughout the history of baseball.”
Benji made choking noises until Josh’s dad cast him a dark look.
“Sorry, Mr. LeBlanc,” Benji said, sitting up straight and folding his hands. “Would you like me to say grace?”
Josh rolled his eyes. Benji’s clowning sometimes got him into trouble, but he always knew how to kiss up to the adults.
After grace, they dug into the stew, and Josh’s dad asked, “Jaden, I heard you say you were here for a story. Josh’s mom told me about the nice article you wrote about him in the school paper. What are you working on now?”
Jaden finished her mouthful, took a small swallow of milk, and dabbed her lips with the napkin from her lap. She looked unflinchingly at Josh’s dad and said, “The story about why he’s not going to play for the team, Mr. LeBlanc. It’s big news, for Grant Middle, anyway. You should have seen Coach Miller’s face after you left.”
“I thought he was going to cry,” Benji said just as a belch escaped his lips. “Excuse me.”
“Jeez,” Josh said, rolling his eyes and, for some reason, feeling embarrassed.
“What?” Benji said. “In Mongolia, when you burp it’s like telling the cook the food’s great, and I love your mom’s stew. You are such a good cook, Mrs. LeBlanc.”
“You’re so sweet, Benji,” Josh’s mom said.
“Good grief,” Josh said.
“Josh has an opportunity to play on one of the best U14 travel teams in the country,” Josh’s father said to Jaden.
“What team?” Jaden asked, taking her notebook back out from under her leg and unclipping its pen.
Josh’s dad glanced at the notebook, then slowly said, “Rocky Valentine’s team, the Mount Olympus Titans.”
Jaden curled her lower lip up under her teeth, then quietly asked, “Mr. LeBlanc, wasn’t he the guy whose team got asked to leave the U13 tournament in Dayton last summer? I remember Bud Poliquin wrote about it in the Post-Standard.”
Josh’s dad snorted and shook his head, forcing a smile onto his face. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“It was all kind of weird,” Jaden said, her excitement growing. “No one from the tournament would say why. All the parents were mad. Rocky Valentine never said anything to anyone, and the whole thing just went away.”
“Right, the whole thing went away,” Josh’s father said, keeping his voice pleasant but wearing a look on his face that made Josh shift in his seat. “So, why are you bringing it back up?”
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
JADEN LOOKED AT JOSH’S father’s face for a moment, and her lip disappeared into her teeth again. She replaced the pen and tucked the notebook back under her leg.
“I’m sorry,” she said. “My dad says a good reporter asks the questions other people want to know but are afraid to ask. This stew is great, Mrs. LeBlanc.”
“If you like it as much as I do,” Benji said, “let one fly.”
Laurel burped and banged her spoon on the tray attached to her chair, giggling.
“There you go,” Benji said with a grin and a nod.
“Save it for Mongolia,” Josh’s father said, his low voice rumbling.
“Sorry, Mr. LeBlanc,” Benji said, dropping his voice and his chin to his chest.
They ate the rest of the meal in relative silence. Josh’s mom did her best to spark conversation about the new hotel that was supposed to go up next to the Destiny USA shopping mall beside the lake, but no one picked up the slack. When he finished, Josh’s father excused himself, telling Josh’s mother that he had some work to do.
“It was nice to meet you, Jaden,” he said pleasantly, stopping in the doorway. “I hope you’ll come again.”
“Thank you,” Jaden said, and smiled up at him.
“Josh,” his mother said after watching his father disappear, “I’ll clean up. Why don’t you and Benji walk Jaden to the hospital? She has to meet her father there at eight.”
“Why?” Josh asked, but caught his mom’s icy glare and immediately changed his tone. “Sure. Yeah. That’d be great.”
“That’s okay, Mrs. LeBlanc,” Jaden said, getting up and taking some plates to the sink. “I’ll help you and then I can take myself. I walk by myself all the time. We live right on the corner of Pond and Carbon, so it’s not far.”
“You’re sweet,” Josh’s mom said, “but I wouldn’t feel comfortable if Josh didn’t walk you. I asked you to stay and I want to make sure you get there okay. Josh and Benji can use the exercise anyway.”
Josh wanted to tell his mom that his limbs felt like jelly and exercise was the last thing he needed, but he knew better all the way around. Besides, for whatever reason, what Jaden said to his dad had struck a nerve, and Josh knew once his dad’s nerves got struck, you were better off letting things settle down. He took his own dishes to the sink and got his coat.
Outside, Benji started in on Jaden immediately.
“Nice going,” Benji said. “The guy has his life destroyed, and you’re pumping him about Rocky Valentine.”
“Destroyed?” Jaden said.
“It’s not destroyed,” Josh said, scowling at Benji as they turned from the driveway onto the sidewalk.
“Crushed?” Benji asked with a shrug.
“He’s fine,” Josh said. “Rocky Valentine offered him a job.”
“Wait a minute,” Jaden said, stopping in her tracks. “What are you two talking about?”
“His dad got cut, dude,” Benji said.
“He kind of retired,” Josh said.
“He’s the best player on that team,” Jaden said. “His batting average is three twenty-one.”
Josh wrinkled his face, started walking, and said, “Do you have to know everything?”
Jaden caught up and raised her eyebrows. “I’m just saying.”
“’Cause it’s annoying,” Benji said, hustling up beside them. “What do you have, like, a photographic memory? Why do you even bother with that stupid pad?”
“I don’t know,” Jaden said.
“Right,” Josh said. “I believe that.”
“So,” she said, ignoring him, “your dad’s not playing anymore and he’s going to work for Rocky Valentine? What’s he doing?”
“Some kind of VP,” Josh said under his breath, “like sales or something.”
“And what was that stuff in your milk?” Jaden asked.
Josh shrugged. “Some supplement for working out. It’s all natural. Super Stax, in case you want to Google it.”
“I will,” Jaden said, marching along.
“Good,” Josh said.
“Great,” she said.
Josh stopped suddenly and grabbed her arm.
“Do you smell that?” he asked.
“What? That smoke?” she said.
“Cigarette smoke?” Benji asked, his voice quavering.
Bart Wilson suddenly stepped out from behind the bushes, blocking their path on the sidewalk.
“Going someplace, punk?”
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
BART PITCHED HIS CIGARETTE down onto the sidewalk. It rolled, burning, to the edge of the grass, filling the air with its stench.
“That’s disgusting,” Jaden said.
Bart narrowed his eyes at her, then said to Josh, “Let’s go, punk. You and me.”
“Oh, dude,” Benji said, and he took off down the sidewalk, running back the way they came, the clap of his feet sounding lonely on the empty concrete.
Josh’s insides melted. He looked from Jaden to the tenth grader and shook his head.
“Get out of here,” Jaden said, taking out her cell phone and beginning to dial. “Before I cal
l the cops.”
Bart swatted her hand, and the cell phone clattered to the sidewalk.
“What are you?” Bart asked with a sneer. “Some kind of African, Asian, Mexican, or something?”
“I’m a human being,” Jaden said, “which is more than you can say, you disgusting animal.”
Bart laughed at her.
“She’s the prettiest girl in school,” Josh said, swallowing.
Bart turned and studied him. “Want to fight about that?”
Josh balled up his hands into fists. His heart hammered the inside of his rib cage, and he thought it might explode. He slowly raised his hands.
“Get out of here!” Jaden shouted, stepping between them and putting her face just inches from Bart’s, her voice strong and southern. “You stay here a second longer and I’ll file a police complaint against you for harassment. You touch him or me and I’ll file one for assault. You think you can just do this? You can’t. My dad’s a cop and he’ll hunt you down and throw you in jail so fast you won’t know where you are until the big boys behind bars are smacking you around and you’re crying for your momma.”
Bart stood there, huffing at her.
“Josh is my boyfriend,” Jaden said suddenly in her drawl. “He doesn’t want anything to do with Sheila. You can tell her that. You want to fight someone? Go fight with her, and tell her to stay away from Josh.”
“That’s bull crap,” Bart said, snarling.
“Go ahead,” Jaden said, gritting her teeth. “You just touch me and see what happens to you. Wait till I tell my father you’re a racist, too. He’ll slap the cuffs on extra tight.”
Bart lunged at Jaden but pulled back just before he touched her.
Jaden never flinched.
“You think I’m scared of you?” Jaden said, wrinkling up her face.
Bart took a step back and said, “You better be, ’cause when I get you back, you ain’t gonna see me coming. There ain’t gonna be no cops, and there ain’t gonna be no witnesses.”