“Hey,” Cassie said as she fell in alongside Sarah, who was about twenty yards ahead of her parents. “Can I ask you something?”
“I know you’re going to no matter what I say,” Sarah said, and nodded. “People do that a lot. They ask permission, but then they do what they were going to do anyway. They do that a real lot.”
“You’re right,” Cassie said.
“So ask.”
“Did I do something wrong?” Cassie said. “Is there something I did that made it like we don’t even know each other?”
Sarah stopped. She turned to face Cassie. Cassie did the same. As she did, she could see Mr. and Mrs. Milligan stop too, as if they were giving them both room.
“I don’t trust you,” Sarah said.
Just like that.
“You don’t trust me?” Cassie said. “Why not?”
“The other girls are shutting me out,” Sarah said. “Why aren’t you?”
“First of all,” Cassie said, telling herself to stay calm, “I’m not like the other girls. And second, they’re shutting me out too!”
She knew she’d raised her voice without meaning to, more out of frustration than anything else. So she lowered it now as she said, “You get that part, right?”
“I’m not talking about that,” Sarah said. “I’m not talking about what you want to talk about. I’m talking about what I want to talk about. I’m asking you why you want me if none of them want me. Do you get that?”
“I like you.”
“I don’t believe you.”
“But why don’t you believe me?”
“Because no one else likes me,” she said.
Then she resumed walking toward their car, without another word. Cassie thought: When she’s not running away, she’s walking away.
Or maybe she was just finding every possible way to push Cassie away.
• • •
The Cubs almost lost their next game, in Rawson, with Sam Anthony pitching. There was no practice and no game for the Red Sox that night, so Cassie got a ride to the game with Jack’s parents, and watched as Sam gave up four runs in the first inning and then two more in the second, before his dad was on his way to the mound.
Jack’s dad turned to his mom and said, “That boy looks about as happy playing baseball as I used to look when my parents made me clean my room.”
Mrs. Callahan laughed. “You cleaned your room?”
“I’m being serious.”
“Well, honey, who looks happy when they’re getting hit like this?”
Mr. Callahan said, “It’s more than that. He doesn’t look like he even wants to be out there. And he certainly doesn’t look as if he wants to fight back.”
Cassie pointed at the field. “Right now it looks as if all he wants to do is fight with his dad.”
Mr. Anthony had put his hand out, asking for the ball, which meant he was taking Sam out of the game. But Sam wouldn’t hand it over, even though there were still two guys on, and only one out. Cassie couldn’t make out what they were saying to each other, but Sam was doing most of the talking. At one point, the ball still in his right hand, he turned and pointed with it at Teddy, who was standing at the plate, watching them.
Teddy ignored him, simply turned around and started talking to the umpire.
Finally Sam handed the ball to his dad and stomped his way toward the Cubs’ bench. As soon as he crossed the third baseline, he threw his glove over the bench, and over the fence behind it.
At this point the home plate umpire took off his mask and was on the move, heading straight for Sam Anthony.
Cassie and Jack’s parents were sitting in the bleachers behind the bench. Now they could hear everything.
“Go get your glove, son,” the umpire said.
It had landed just short of where Teddy’s mom was sitting with Gus’s parents.
“I don’t need it anymore,” Sam said. “I’m out of the game.”
“Good thing, too,” the umpire said, “or I would have been the one to toss you from the game for doing that.”
“It’s not like I threw my bat,” Sam said.
“Close enough,” the umpire said. “Now please go over and pick up your glove.”
Behind them Mr. Anthony had been talking to Jerry York, whom he’d brought over from third base to pitch. His back had been to the Cubs’ bench as he talked to Jerry. But now he turned and saw what was happening between his son and the home plate umpire. Saw and heard.
He came running from the mound. Cassie thought: Usually you see managers in baseball running toward the field to jaw with umpires. Now the opposite is about to happen.
“Don’t talk to my players!” Mr. Anthony yelled at the ump.
Cassie looked around. Nobody at Rawson Green was moving, except Mr. Anthony.
The umpire kept his cool. “Excuse me?” he said.
“I run my own team,” Mr. Anthony said.
He was right in front of the ump, but his voice was still loud.
“And I’m asked to run this game,” the ump said. “And in a game in our league, we don’t throw bats, and we don’t throw helmets, and we don’t throw gloves. Now I want this young man to go collect his glove, so the game can continue.”
“He’s my son.”
“I sort of figured that out on my own.”
“What does that mean?”
“You figure that out on your own.”
Sam still hadn’t made a move to go and retrieve his glove. Neither Teddy’s mom nor Gus’s mom and dad had made a move to pick it up for him. It sat where it had landed.
“How about I go get the glove?” Mr. Anthony said. “Will that make you happy?”
The umpire slowly shook his head. “No, it’s your son’s glove. He needs to go get it.”
It was here that Mr. Anthony, who had somehow moved even closer to the ump, made his mistake. He poked a finger at him, clearly coming into contact with the ump’s chest protector.
“You don’t tell me what to do,” Mr. Anthony said.
“Actually, I can.
