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  The next pitch came in over the outside corner, and Derek was ready. He went the other way with it, slapping it right over the first baseman’s head.

  Derek steamed around first and headed for second. When the throw came in to the plate, too late to nail Mason, Derek kept on going and slid safely into third before the throw got there!

  Dave was up next, and he didn’t disappoint. On the very first pitch, he clubbed one to deep center field. The Nationals’ outfielder sped back and grabbed it with a fine catch, but Derek tagged up and came in easily to score the Indians’ second run.

  Dave’s shot was the only hard-hit ball the Indians managed during the first four innings. But the score stayed 2–0 because Dave, who had settled into a great rhythm, was keeping the Nationals’ hitters off balance with his changes of speed.

  He wasn’t walking anybody either. He would throw balls off the plate, both inside and out, both high and low. But because his pitches were close to being strikes, the hitters were fooled and went after them, and ended up missing or making weak contact.

  “Amazing!” Mr. Jeter crowed when Dave came back to the bench after the top of the fifth. “How are you holding up, Dave?”

  “I’m fine,” Dave said, nodding and smiling. But Derek noticed—and he was sure his dad did too—that Dave was rubbing his right biceps when he thought no one was looking.

  Well, thought Derek, it was no wonder that Dave was getting tired and his arm was starting to feel sore. He wasn’t used to throwing this many pitches—not even close. Derek wondered if Dave’s fatigue would start to show late in the game, and what would happen if it did.

  The Indians put two men on in the fifth—one on a walk, the other on a hit batsman. The Nationals’ pitcher was still throwing fire, but his control was starting to go out the window as he too began to tire.

  With two out Derek came to the plate, knowing that if he could somehow drive the runners in, the Indians would have a commanding lead going into the sixth and last inning.

  He swung at the first pitch and hit a screaming line drive, but the pitcher reached out his mitt and snagged it!

  Derek groaned and grabbed his batting helmet with both hands. The pitcher groaned too, shaking his glove hand out and wincing in pain.

  The inning was over, and the Indians were going to have to protect their slim two-run lead for three more outs.

  Dave took the mound and started throwing his warm-up pitches. But it was easy to see he’d lost his command. Every pitch was wild; not one came near the plate.

  When he walked the first hitter on four pitches, Mr. Jeter came out to the mound and took the ball from him. “Outstanding work, Dave,” Derek heard him say. “I think we’ve found ourselves a new ace, but enough’s enough for one day.”

  He turned toward Derek, and Derek was afraid his dad was about to ask him to take over, but Mr. Jeter called for Jonathan instead, and sent Dave to the bench, putting Paul at third base.

  Now the tying run was at the plate, with nobody out, and Derek was starting to get nervous. The Nationals were 4–1 on the season so far, with their only loss coming to the Giants. With a pitcher like they had, it was no wonder they had such a good record, Derek thought. Dave had held his own, but he’d run out of gas one inning too early.

  In games to come Dave would be more used to pitching. He’d be stronger and better able to continue, but that was no help today. And today’s game meant everything. If they lost after leading the whole game, all their momentum and good feelings about themselves would be gone!

  Jonathan’s fastball was not as hard or accurate as Dave’s, and he had no changeup to keep the hitters off balance. The second batter shot a hard grounder between the second and first basemen for a single, sending the runner all the way to third.

  The next hitter popped out to Paul, and the ball was too shallow for the runner at third to score. Derek breathed a sigh of relief. But the Indians were hanging on by their fingernails, and it was going to take some luck to win this game.

  The cleanup man came up to bat, with murder in his eyes. He swung so hard at the first pitch that he nearly came out of his shoes, but the rocket he hit fell just foul of the right field line for a long, loud strike one.

  “Get him, Johnnie!” came a voice from right field. Gary. Derek had to smile. Gary’s fierce competitiveness and drive to win was overcoming his usual obnoxiousness. And that inspired Vijay, Dave, and the others to join in, loudly yelling for Jonathan to strike the big guy out.

  Jonathan must have heard them, because he reared back and threw his fastest pitch of the season. The hitter missed, and suddenly the count was 0–2.

  “One more!” Gary yelled from the outfield. “Come on, get him!”

  Again the team roared encouragement in response.

  Jonathan geared up and fired another heater. But by now the hitter had timed his swing enough to catch up with the pitch.

  He hit a long shot to left, but Vijay had been playing him deep and was able to catch up with the ball and make a running grab.

  “Yeah!” Derek yelled, thrusting his arms into the air, even as the runner at third tagged up and scored the Nationals’ first run, cutting the Indians’ lead in half.

  It was a play Vijay could never have made in years past. But over the last few weeks Mr. Jeter and Chase had taught him to play the outfield with his mind as well as his body. By putting himself into a better position, and taking better routes to the ball, he’d become a decent outfielder.

  Derek felt really proud of him. Nobody worked harder on his game, or cared more, than Vijay.

  Now there were two outs and a man on first. Jonathan walked the next batter, and the Nationals were just a single away from tying the game—or a double away from taking the lead!

  Jonathan quickly went 2-and-0 on the hitter. “Just get it over, Johnnie,” Derek called to the mound. “Let him make contact. We’ve got your back!”

  Jonathan nodded and stared in at the catcher, determined to throw a strike. The hitter dug into the batter’s box, knowing a fastball was coming right down the middle.

  The batter hit it as hard as a grounder can be hit, so hard that it made Jonathan duck out of the way instead of trying to field it.

  Derek reacted instinctively, moving to his left and speeding behind second base. He reached out and snared the ball, but his momentum was carrying him into right field. He knew he had no chance to catch the runner at first, and if he tried, he might throw the ball away and let the tying run score!

  But in that split second his instincts took over, and he flipped the ball behind his back to second base, where Mason was standing, glove outstretched, foot on the bag. The ball sank into his mitt a moment before the runner’s foot hit.

  “OUT!” cried the ump.

  The game was over! They’d done it! And Derek had made the defensive play of the season to nail down the victory, just when the win had been about to slip out of their grasp!

  As the team celebrated their second straight win, Derek and Dave were right in the middle of the pile.

  “Awesome!” cried Derek, high-fiving his best friend.

  “Thanks, Chief!” Dave replied.

  “This game ball belongs to you, Mr. MVP.”

  “How ’bout we share it?” Derek suggested.

  “Sounds good,” said Dave, and the two friends high-fived again.

  “You know what?” Derek said. “I’ve got a feeling this is the beginning of a beautiful winning streak.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  HOME STRETCH

  May turned to June, and the weather began to feel like summer. All the students at Saint Augustine’s school were studying hard for their finals, especially Derek. Mr. Jeter had finished his year of teaching at Western Michigan University and was studying for his doctoral degree.

  Sharlee’s T-ball team was undefeated and, with one game left, was firmly in first place, just as she had predicted so confidently back in early May. And the Indians kept on winning.

  A
fter a long hot streak, they were now 7–4, with just one big game left to play. Big because if they won it, they’d be in the playoffs!

  Under a new system adopted by the league for this year, the top six teams would make the playoffs. If the Indians beat the Dodgers, they would finish sixth. If they lost . . .

  Well, that was not going to happen! Derek was confident about that. The Indians were playing like a well-oiled machine, and had been for the past four weeks. They were 5–0 in that time span.

  Thanks to Gary’s stat-keeping—which he’d continued, even after his and Derek’s project had been handed in—everyone on the team could see where he stood and where he needed improvement.

  Chase and Mr. Jeter had come into their own as coaches, working with each individual team member on his skills and keeping the team focused and in high spirits.

  It was a situation Derek could not even have dreamed of being in early in the season, when they’d been 0–3 and struggling to find unity and focus. The Indians—as a team, as individual players, as coaches—had been through some serious growing pains. But they’d grown together to get past their troubles and find success.

  Still, all of that could go right down the drain if they lost their next game, and everyone on the team knew it. Derek could feel the tightness in his jaw and the uneasiness in his mood. There was unfinished business, and until it was finished, no one on the Indians could relax.

  That afternoon Derek sat in the stands and watched Sharlee lead her team to an undefeated season and a T-ball championship. As he sat there, cheering her on along with his parents, Derek thought back to the beginning of both their seasons, when she had kept on bragging about her team and her accomplishments, and he had had to bite down on his tongue rather than say something he’d regret later.

  Because that was what had been on his mind, to say, “Stop bragging! Can’t you see it only makes me feel worse about my own crummy team?”

  Well, he hadn’t said it, and now he was glad—for Sharlee and for himself. He’d made sure to be there for her last three games, even though it had cost him time on the Hill with his friends.

  Some things were just more important than others, he reflected now, and he was glad he’d shown up for his sister, because after all, family came first.

  After the game Sharlee celebrated with her teammates, then made a beeline for Derek and leapt into his arms and hugged him even before giving her parents hugs.

  Derek felt like a million dollars for being a good big brother, even though he knew he could have been a better one early in the season. He promised himself that next year, no matter what was going on with his own team, he’d be there for Sharlee from the very beginning of her season.

  “Mommy, Daddy, can Ciara come over for another overnight?” Sharlee begged.

  “Sure, honey—if it’s all right with her parents,” said Mrs. Jeter. “Right, Jeter?”

  “Right, Dot,” agreed Mr. Jeter.

  “Hey, Mom? Dad?” Derek broke in. “Dave and I have been talking about an overnight for a while. Do you think—”

  “Don’t you have a lot of studying to do this next week?” asked his mom.

  “We could study together,” Derek suggested.

  “Jeter?” his mom asked his dad.

  Mr. Jeter looked thoughtful. “I’ll speak to Chase about it,” he said, which was good enough for Derek.

  He was sure Chase would say yes. He was a big fan of the Jeter family, and of Derek in particular. Why would he say no?

  “Now let’s get home,” said Mr. Jeter. “Derek and I both have studying to do. Come on, Sharlee.”

  “Wait! I have to go get my trophy!” she cried, and ran back to huddle with her teammates, who were gathering around their coach in anticipation. Soon she ran back to join them, with a trophy in each hand. “Look!” she said, her eyes wide with ecstasy. “I’m the most valuable player!”

  “Wow! Good for you, Sharlee!” Derek said, hugging her again.

  “Here, Mommy. Hold these,” she said, handing the trophies over. “Can I go with the team to Jahn’s for ice cream? Pleeease?”

  All the Jeters laughed. When Sharlee turned on the charm, she was pretty irresistible.

  “Sure. Why not?” said Mr. Jeter. “In fact, we’ll all go. Most valuable player? That deserves a celebration!”

  • • •

  The next day at school Derek wanted to ask Dave about an overnight, but Dave found him first, and was he ever excited.

  “Guess what?” he said. “My parents are coming home!”

  “Wow! Both of them?”

  “Yeah, and for a while!”

  “Great. When?”

  “I think they’re going to be here tonight, but it might be tomorrow. I’m a little confused, because where they are, it’s already tomorrow. Something about the international date line.”

  “Huh?”

  “I know. I don’t understand it either. But Chase says they might make it to the game tomorrow.”

  “Fantastic!”

  “I know. I hope they do. I want them to see me pitch!”

  Dave’s confidence was understandable. Ever since Mr. Jeter had put him back in as starting pitcher, the changeup Derek had taught him had only gotten better, making Dave’s fastball almost unhittable. As much as anything else, it was the reason the Indians had gone on a tear, winning seven of their last eight games.

  If Dave was feeling confident about pitching tomorrow in front of his parents, he had every reason to be. It was easy to envision the Indians beating the mighty Dodgers, who had the second-best record in the whole league and were going to the playoffs for sure, even if they lost.

  “How long are they going to be here for?”

  Dave’s eyes widened with excitement. “That’s the best part. My mom said she’ll be home for at least a couple of months, and my dad for even longer than that.”

  “Wow, Dave, that’s so great. I’m really happy for you.”

  He was, too. It had always been hard for Derek to imagine how Dave dealt with his parents being away most of the time on business, and having someone else be in charge of him, no matter how great a guy Chase was.

  “Yeah, me too. I can’t wait for them to meet you and your folks.”

  “Give me five on that,” said Derek, raising his hand for a slap. “Hey, I was meaning to ask you—my folks said it’s okay if we have an overnight next week, as long as it’s okay with Chase.”

  “Great!” Dave said. “Of course, now it’ll be up to my folks, but I’m sure that won’t be a problem. Chase has already told them about you guys, and I know they’re psyched to meet you.”

  Derek felt relieved, although he couldn’t have said why. Chase was someone he knew and liked a lot, and who already liked him back. He sure hoped Dave’s parents would feel the same way, but still, Derek knew it was up to him to make a good first impression. He would have to put his best foot forward tomorrow, both in the game and on the sidelines when he met Mr. and Mrs. Hennum.

  “Don’t worry. It’s a done deal. I’m sure of it,” Dave said. “Just let’s get a win tomorrow, so my folks can root for us all the way through the playoffs!”

  Chapter Fifteen

  DO OR DIE

  “Anybody seen Dave?” Mr. Jeter looked around at the team, assembled in front of him. “Or Coach Bradway?”

  Everyone looked at one another. No one had seen either of them. Mr. Jeter checked his watch. “Hmmm. They’re usually here by now. I wonder what—”

  Just then the familiar Mercedes sedan rolled slowly down the drive and pulled up by the side of the field. Chase emerged and opened the rear door. A lady got out, thanked Chase, and, shading her eyes from the sun, looked around at the scene.

  Meanwhile Chase ran around to the other side of the car. He opened that door too, and a handsome, tall man emerged—followed by Dave, who’d been sitting in the front seat. The man put his arm around Dave’s shoulders and said something to him, and Dave beamed.

  “Those must be Dav
e’s parents!” Derek said. And here they came. Dave was practically pulling his mom’s hand, so excited was he to introduce her and his dad to the team.

  “Hi, everybody!” he called as they approached. “Sorry we’re late.”

  “My fault, I’m afraid,” Chase said. “I was a little late getting to the airport. Coach, everybody—I’d like to introduce Mr. and Mrs. Hennum, Dave’s parents.”

  “How do you do?” said Mrs. Hennum, with a smile that seemed halfhearted to Derek. He figured it must have been because she’d just gotten off an airplane after a long flight and had come straight here instead of to her home.

  “Nice to meet you all,” said Mr. Hennum, with a nod to the team members.

  “Hi,” some of the Indians replied.

  “And this,” said Chase, “is Charles Jeter, Dave’s coach. And an excellent one, in my opinion.”

  “A pleasure,” said Dave’s mom, offering her hand, but in a way that looked like she wanted it kissed instead of shaken.

  Derek’s dad shook it anyway. “Pleasure’s mine,” he said with a warm smile. “Dave’s a fine young man. You must be very proud.”

  “We are,” said Mr. Hennum, putting an arm around Dave and nodding to Mr. Jeter. “Thank you. I hope he’s behaved himself.”

  “Oh, yes, definitely.”

  “And this,” said Chase, “is Charles’s son, Derek—Dave’s best friend, as I told you.”

  “Oh. Yes. How do you do?” said Mrs. Hennum, looking Derek up and down in a way that made him feel distinctly uncomfortable.

  “Nice to meet you,” said Derek, giving her his best smile.

  “Indeed,” she replied, still looking taken aback.

  “Hello there, young man.” Mr. Hennum nodded to Derek and gave what could have passed for a smile but certainly wasn’t much of one.

  “Hi, Mr. Hennum.” Derek wasn’t sure if he should offer his hand. He decided, just on instinct, not to.

  “Derek taught me practically everything I know about baseball!” Dave said excitedly. “And Mr. Jeter too, of course.”