The Pirates’ leadoff man came to the plate, waggling his bat like he was going to wallop the first pitch he saw. He looked Avery up and down with a scornful smirk on his face.
Avery wound up slowly, then fired one inside and high. The hitter ducked, and catcalls came from the Pirates bench. But the batter didn’t waggle his bat after that.
Avery threw one over the plate next, and the batter swung right through it. Then she tossed one low, and he grounded weakly right back to the mound. Avery grabbed it and threw to first for the easy out.
The hitter jogged back to the bench, shooting Avery a dirty look as he went. She paid no attention.
So far, so good, thought Derek. “Let’s go, Avery!” he yelled, pounding his mitt.
But after that promising start, Avery’s control started to waver. She walked the next batter on a 3–2 count. Then she plunked the number three hitter with a wayward fastball.
More full-out boos rose from the Pirates bench. “Throw her out!” a couple of kids yelled to the ump.
Derek blew out a worried breath. Avery had seemed stressed before the game, and he’d worried she might be feeling shaky. But he hadn’t said anything to her then, and he didn’t now. Avery didn’t like being encouraged—not while she was in the middle of yelling at herself.
The cleanup hitter swung at the first pitch, got hold of a high fastball, and sent it deep to center field. Mason ran back, back, back… and made a sno-cone catch!
“Let’s go! Woo-hoo!” Derek yelled, raising his arms high in the air along with his teammates.
There were two out now, with the runners advancing to second and third on the play.
If Avery had felt tense before, she looked almost rigid now. She’d just thrown her best pitch, and it had been absolutely crushed. Now, seemingly scared of throwing the ball over the plate, she walked the next batter on four straight pitches to load the bases.
“No batter, no batter!” Derek called out, smacking his fist into his glove. “You got this, Ave!” She paid no attention. Derek could see her breathing hard. Her eyes looked wild as she went into her windup and fired—ball one, high.
Two pitches later, the count was 3–0. One more ball, and the Pirates would walk in a run!
“Get it over, will ya?” Pete yelled at Avery from second base. “Just throw him a strike!”
“Hey!” Derek called to him, shielding his mouth with his mitt. “Cut it out!”
Derek wished Pete would keep quiet, instead of always mouthing off at people. Did he really think yelling at her was going to help?
The next pitch was ball four—but luckily, the batter swung at it! He smacked a line drive right at Pete. But Pete’s attention was still half on Avery, and the ball caught him flat-footed. He ducked out of the way, flailing with his glove. The ball ticked off the glove and rolled onto the outfield grass!
By the time Pete had retrieved it, two runs had scored! Coach K jogged out to the mound and murmured a few words into Avery’s ear. She bit her lip, shook her head, and stared hard at the ground. Coach clapped her on the shoulder and went back to the dugout.
Avery toed the rubber. She blew out a big breath, digging down deep for extra strength. She should have been out of the inning already, Derek thought. If only Pete had had his mind on his own job instead of hers.
“Come on, Ave… come on…,” Derek muttered. He knew she had it in her. But could she summon her ability at will?
The pitch was a low changeup. The batter swung, sending a sharp grounder to Derek’s right. He dived and snagged it, rolled onto his back, and flipped to Pete at second for the final out!
Okay, so we’re down 2–0. So what? Derek lectured himself. It’s not the end of the world. We haven’t even come to bat yet! He knew that no game was lost until the last out was recorded—especially in an all-or-nothing game like this one!
On the other hand, it wasn’t exactly the start they’d hoped for. And the Pirates’ starting pitcher was going to have a lot to say about any comebacks.
He was the hardest thrower Derek had seen all year. You could hear the menacing buzz of his fastball as it came in, looking more like a blur than a baseball.
Mason Adams, the Yanks’ leadoff man, ducked out of the way of the first two pitches he saw—each of them a strike. Then he swung wildly at a fastball in the dirt—and missed by a mile.
Derek had trouble catching up with the heater too. He battled for five pitches, fouling off some good ones, but ultimately went down swinging at a changeup—the first one the pitcher had thrown.
This is going to be even tougher than I thought, Derek realized as Pete proceeded to strike out on four pitches. Derek felt a sudden tingling of anxiety as goose bumps rose on his arms.
It’s 2–zip already, thought Derek. And he threw only twelve pitches! He’s still got a lot to go before he reaches his limit!
The Yanks were going to have to make the pitcher work harder. They had to tire him out and push up his pitch count! Derek suddenly found that he was clenching his jaws. He opened his mouth wide to stretch them back out, but he could tell the situation was starting to get to him.
He wasn’t the only one either. Avery hadn’t said a word to anyone since the pregame group cheer. She was deep in her own thoughts. To Derek she seemed to be in agony.
He knew what Avery was like when she was
