Wind Up Read online

  Derek guessed that she needed to get away from the pressures she lived with most of the time. He also sensed that today might be his best chance to sound her out, and find out what was really bugging her.

  The pickup game got started. At one point Avery fielded a grounder with a man on first, and flipped to Derek to start the double play—but she tossed it to the wrong side of the bag, making it impossible for him to get off a strong throw to first.

  “Hey,” he told her. “You wanna hang around after and practice a few of those, so we get it right if it happens tomorrow?”

  “Sure!” she said without hesitation.

  Derek wasn’t surprised she’d taken him up on his offer. Avery never turned down an opportunity to improve her game.

  Vijay was the last of the others to leave. “I have to get home and heat up dinner,” he told Derek and Avery. “My parents get home from work at six thirty.”

  Vijay’s parents worked at the hospital, and sometimes didn’t get home until late, so heating up dinner was pretty routine at the Patel house.

  “Cool,” said Avery. As Vijay walked away, she turned to Derek. “So… practice?”

  “Uh, yeah. Listen… could I just ask you—”

  “I thought you wanted to run double-play drills,” she said, hands on her hips.

  “Yeah, right—but… Look, you’re probably going to get mad at me, but I’ve just got to ask. Is there something going on with you lately? I mean, are you okay? You’re not sick or something?”

  “Do we have to talk about this?”

  “Yes. Be mad at me if you want, but at least let me know what’s going on. I mean, I thought we were friends.”

  “We are,” she said. Then, with a sigh, she continued, “Okay, I’ll admit it. The pressure’s been getting to me lately. I guess when I got into all this, I figured I could take whatever abuse I got, and still go on. You know, because of my brother and all.”

  “Yeah? And?”

  “I guess I didn’t figure in the other kind of pressure.”

  “As in winning?”

  “Kind of. I mean, I was just going to play in his honor, and do him proud. But once we got in sight of the playoffs, I guess I just moved the goalposts. It’s… the pressure just builds and builds and builds. And now…”

  “I hear you. But you know, you’ve done great. You’re doing great!”

  “Thanks. But it’s really starting to get to me. Every time I blow it out there, I want to kick myself.”

  “Well, don’t do that!” Derek said, trying to inject a little levity. She didn’t even crack a smile.

  “In fact, I was thinking that I might not sign up again next year.”

  “What?”

  Avery shrugged. “You know, just go back to soccer, maybe lacrosse or even volleyball.”

  Derek looked at her like he’d never seen her before. Avery was sure full of surprises!

  “My mom was the same way,” she went on. “You know, she was playing in the boys’ leagues a long time ago, when girls were first allowed by law. It was really, really tough on her. Tougher than on me, even.”

  Derek wished he could help her somehow. He decided to talk to his mom and dad about it. He was pretty sure they’d have some good ideas.

  “Listen,” he said. “It’s getting late. Why don’t I just walk you home, and we can work the DP again before the game tomorrow?”

  “Okay.”

  As they walked, Derek couldn’t help but think about what a cost she’d paid all season long. To become the kind of ballplayer she was—playing a new sport for the first time, as the only girl in the whole league, and doing it to honor your late brother? Not so easy.

  “You know,” he told her, “I’ve kind of been feeling the pressure too.”

  “Yeah?”

  “Maybe not like you, but for sure. I’m having trouble studying for finals—”

  “Hah! Me too!” At last she cracked a smile.

  “Yeah, but you didn’t make a bet with someone where the guy with the lower score has to wear a chicken suit the last day of school!”

  “You did not!”

  Derek nodded sadly.

  “No way! Oh, poor Derek—why did you go and do that?”

  “Because I’m a dummy. But no, seriously, I’m going to hang that chicken suit on that kid. Some way, somehow…”

  “You think?”

  “Hey, I’ve got Vijay helping me—how can I lose?”

  * * *

  Sharlee had been acting mysteriously the whole evening. All through dinner she kept exchanging sneak peeks with her mom and giggling, while looking at Derek. He suspected it had something to do with his upcoming birthday, and whatever surprise the two of them were hatching for him.

  After helping wash and dry the dinner dishes, Derek left the two plotters to their own devices, and went to find his dad.

  Mr. Jeter was at the desk in his home office, grading his students’ papers. He worked as a college professor at Western Michigan University.

  “Derek?”

  “Hi, Dad. Could I, um, could I talk to you about something?”

  His dad swiveled his chair around. “Sure! Have a seat, Son. What’s on your mind?”

  “It’s about Avery.”

  “Avery?” Mr. Jeter looked surprised.

  “I just don’t know what to do, and I thought you might be able to help.” Derek filled his dad in on everything he’d noticed about Avery over the past three weeks.

  “Hmmm,” Mr. Jeter said when Derek had finished. “Sounds like she’s making herself sick over it.”

  “Exactly!”

  “She might not be in the mood to listen, no matter what good advice you might have for her, Derek. You know, in our house, we are very competitive and we always play to win. We take the field expecting it, and we’re not happy when we lose. But one thing you can’t say about us is that we don’t have fun playing the game. If we didn’t, what would be the point of the whole thing?”

  “Huh,” Derek said, nodding slowly.

  “If Avery realized that teams lose championships much more than they win them, she might feel differently, maybe go a little easier on herself. Remember, players who get a hit one third of the time in their careers go to the Hall of Fame.”

  “Wow. I never thought of it like that.” Derek had hit way better than .333 for his Little League career. He felt a sudden flush of pride go through him.

  “You know, Derek, you seem pretty wound up yourself lately,” his dad said, taking him by surprise. “Maybe you should consider some of this stuff too.”

  “I’m fine, Dad. It’s Avery I’m worried about.”

  “Well, then, tell Avery to go out there and just have fun. Tell her that her brother would be proud of her, no matter what happens. Win or lose.”

  Derek nodded. He knew his dad was right.

  Mr. Jeter continued, “I seem to recall that your teams haven’t won championships every time. But you’re still crazy about baseball.”

  “That’s for sure,” Derek said, grinning.

  “And you’ve still got big dreams for yourself, right?”

  “Totally!”

  “You know, I had big baseball dreams, just like you.”

  “I know, Dad.”

  “I didn’t get there in the end, but maybe you will, Derek. Anyway, I wouldn’t have traded that time for anything. And I enjoyed every minute.”

  “Thanks, Dad,” Derek said, getting up and giving him a hug. “Thanks for that.”

  “Remember, it’s fine to be serious about things. It’s fine to care with all your heart. But you’ve got to be able to enjoy the ride, win or lose. Always go out to do the best you can and have fun along the way.”

  Chapter Nine GIANT KILLERS?

  Swinging a pair of bats to limber up, Derek looked into the stands. There was his mom, talking to Vijay’s parents. The Patels had Saturday off for a change and seemed excited and happy to be there.

  And there was Avery’s mom, standing in the ba
ck row of the bleachers, next to the older boys who served with her as Avery’s cheering section. Avery’s mom had been at almost every game, but Derek had never really met her, except to shake hands once.

  But one thing about her—she was into it. Right now she stood facing Avery, her hands on Avery’s shoulders as the two of them leaned their heads in together. It looked to Derek like a very private, very intense pep talk. When it was over, Avery’s mom worked her daughter’s shoulders, then clapped them one last time. Avery nodded, blowing off big breaths like they were clouds of tension.

  Derek wondered if Avery’s mom was as stressed out as her daughter was.

  “Yanks, huddle up!” Coach K called out. Derek joined the rest of the team as they gathered around for their pregame pep talk.

  “Okay, guys,” said Coach Stafford. “This is our biggest game yet.”

  “Yeah! Yeah!” The Yanks were already psyched to the max. Derek joined in, raising both bats in the air.

  “Now, these guys are really good,” the coach went on. “You remember them from the regular season. They’re undefeated for a reason. So… I don’t want you to be too disappointed if we don’t win today.”

  Huh? Derek couldn’t believe his ears! Was their coach really trying to prepare them to lose?

  “I want you to remember, guys—and girl,” Coach Stafford added with a nod to Avery, “we’ve already had a great, great season. Right?”

  There was a weak echo from a few of the kids, but Derek could tell they were already getting bummed out by their coach’s tone. Wasn’t this supposed to be a chance to rev them up? Why was he trying to let them down easy—in advance?

  Now more than ever, Derek wished it were his dad and Chase who were leading them into battle. But Derek also knew that you go to war with the coaches you have, not the ones you wish you had.

  “I want you all to go out there today and just have fun,” Coach Stafford finished. “Have a blast—and may the best team win. Hopefully, the ball bounces our way, right?”

  He clapped his hands twice, but nobody else joined in. “Okay, let’s do our cheer! Here we go—hands in.” They piled their mitts on top of one another and yelled, “Goooo, Yanks!” Then they broke off to play ball.

  Derek glanced over at Avery. She looked as upset as he felt.

  Well, of course! Sure, you had to enjoy every moment. But Derek only knew one way to compete—full-out. And he knew that went double for Avery. “Hey,” he said, trying to get her to smile. “Just like we do it on the Hill, right? Nice and loose.”

  Avery almost smiled, but not quite. At the last minute she turned away, to be alone again for one final moment with her private thoughts.

  She and Derek had both shown up early today, as planned, to practice their double-play pivots and footwork. Vijay had come along, to help them out by playing first base.

  After half an hour of drilling, their timing in the infield felt almost automatic. Derek only hoped it would help during the game.

  As the playoff team with the worse regular-season record, the Yanks were the visitors today. Derek grabbed his bat and went to the on-deck circle, while Mason dug in at home plate.

  Derek knew that the Giants had been routing opponents all season. They’d scored a ton of runs, and they had two shut-down pitchers—which was two more than most teams in the league.

  It was going to take the Yankees’ best effort to win this game. And more—it was going to take some luck and creativity to keep up with the mighty Giants. The Yankees were going to have to cash in on any breaks they got.

  And they got one right away! Mason reached for a low outside pitch and sent a looping fly to short left. It fell just out of reach of the shortstop and third baseman, who nearly collided in the process.

  Derek picked up some dirt from the ground and rubbed it between his palms, in case they were sweaty. With this pitcher you had to swing your hardest just to keep up with his fastballs, and you didn’t want the bat slipping in your hands.

  Looking out at the fielders, Derek saw that they were playing him to pull. He waited for an outside fastball, got one on a 1–1 count, and slapped it through the hole on the right side of the infield. It just missed Mason—which was another lucky break, because he would have been called out if the ball had hit him. Instead he made it all the way to third, as the throw came in to second base.

  Pete was up next. He stared at a strike right over the middle. Then another. Derek knew that the pitcher would likely get Pete to swing at a bad pitch for the strikeout. If it got away from the catcher, Derek would be on his way to second.

  But the next pitch was in the dirt. It bounced off the catcher’s chest pad—not very far, but Derek was off in an instant. The catcher panicked and threw to second—forgetting that there was also a runner on third!

  The throw was perfect, and just in time to nail Derek for the out—but the run scored without a throw to home plate, and suddenly the Yankees were in the lead, 1–0!

  Pete swung at the next pitch, and hit a fly to left for the second out.

  That brought Harry to the plate. He was not as powerful as Pete but was better at making contact because he didn’t try to hit every ball out of the park. That made him a good matchup against the Giants’ starter. As hard as he threw, you only had to meet the ball and it would go a long way.

  Easier said than done. But on the second pitch, Harry connected, hitting a screaming liner that sent the center fielder way, way back!

  Derek was sure it was going to be over the center fielder’s head, but the kid ran it down for the third out. “Rats!” Derek shouted, kicking the dirt in frustration. So close!

  The Yanks had succeeded at step one—getting a lead. Now it was the Giants’ turn to show what they could do with a bat. They had come in superconfident, but now they would have to come from behind, against a team they just might have underestimated.

  Good, thought Derek. If the Yanks could get the Giants a little spooked, maybe they would start to play tight, instead of loose and free.

  The leadoff man hit a hard line drive to Avery at second. With a well-timed leap, she snagged it, and came down screaming, “YAAAH!” The other Yanks let out a cheer as she tossed it back to the mound with a loud “LET’S GO!”

  No way would Pete have made that play if he were at second, Derek thought. It had been Pete’s position at the start of the season, before Avery had replaced him. Now Pete was starting at third—a much better fit for a guy his size, who wasn’t as athletic or mobile as Avery.

  Derek took a few steps in toward Harry on the mound. “Hey,” Derek called, motioning for Harry to come closer. “Listen,” he said in a low voice, “they’re dying to hit dingers. Try playing with ’em a little—let ’em get themselves out, huh?”

  Harry grinned and nodded. “Sure thing,” he said. “Why not?”

  The next two hitters swung hard enough to hit it all the way to Detroit, but they only succeeded in grounding out on Harry’s changeups.

  The Yanks came back up to bat, still ahead by one run. But there was a long, long way to go. And their hitters weren’t even close to solving the Giants’ starter. He struck out Ryan, and after a walk to Avery, he fanned JJ and Tre’ to set the Yankees down.

  In the bottom of the inning, the Giants worked a walk with one out. The next batter smashed one just to Derek’s right. He gobbled the ball up and fired to Avery, covering second. She took the throw in stride, pivoted as if it were second nature, and fired to first for the easy double play!

  “Just like we practiced!” he told her—and this time she really did smile back.

  The Yanks went down on three more strikeouts in the third: Elliott, Vijay, and Mason.

  In the bottom of the inning, with runners on first and second and one out, Avery dived to her right to grab a sizzling grounder that had “RBI” written all over it. After snagging it like a sno-cone in the webbing of her mitt, she flicked it straight from her glove to Derek at second. He caught it bare-handed and fired to first, just
in time to complete the amazing double play!

  End of inning—no runs scored! All their extra work had already paid off big-time!

  So far the Yankees’ luck was holding up. But it was hanging by a very slender one-run thread, especially against the Giants—the best-hitting team in the league by far.

  Derek led off the top of the fourth, determined to get something started. He knew the Yanks would need more than one run to win the game. He took one strike, watched two straight balls go by, and then fouled off a fastball for strike two.

  Protect… protect, he told himself. No way did he want to get called out on strikes to lead off an inning!

  He fouled off another fastball, then another and another. The pitcher tried a changeup, but it missed for ball three.

  Would he throw another changeup? Derek guessed not. He geared up for the fastball and fouled off yet another. Two more foul balls later, and the pitcher finally gave in and tried another changeup.

  “Ball four!” cried the ump.

  Derek trotted down to first, looking at his teammates and clapping his hands. “Let’s go!” he called, pointing a finger at them to urge them on.

  Pete grounded out on the first pitch, overanxious, as he often was. Derek made it to second, though, so it was a productive out at least.

  Harry stepped to the plate. When the pitcher threw him an 0–2 changeup, it was inside, and nearly hit him. The ball got away from the catcher, and Derek raced to third!

  “Come on, Harry!” he called, cupping his hands to his mouth to make a megaphone.

  Harry dug in. The next pitch was a fastball, but Harry was ready. He sent a long fly to left, where the Giants’ fielder was parked under it.

  As soon as the Giants player caught the ball, Derek took off for home. The throw came in way too late. 2–0, Yankees! And they’d gotten the second run without even getting a hit!

  Ryan struck out to end the Yankees’ half of the inning, but now, at least, the Yanks had a bit of a cushion. If their pitching held up, they would pull off the biggest upset of the entire season!

  Harry had already thrown a lot of pitches in the first three innings. Now it started to show. He walked the first two men he faced, wasting thirteen pitches in the process. Derek knew the coach would have to make a pitching change soon, because Harry was clearly running out of bullets and gas.