When the game ended, Sam left without saying good-bye to anyone.
The next afternoon Cassie and the guys were sitting on the Walton side of Small Falls, near the bridge that Teddy Madden had been terrified to cross once, before he’d overcome those fears, and a lot of doubts he’d once had about himself. Today they’d all brought sandwiches and were having lunch up here.
“I still don’t know why we need that guy,” Teddy said.
They all knew he was talking about Sam.
“I think he can pitch,” Jack said.
“You must be joking,” Gus said.
“Nope,” Jack said. “He threw the ball way better last night, especially once he got out of the first.”
“Yeah,” Teddy said, “this time he only gave up four runs instead of six.”
“But he competed,” Jack said. “He didn’t give up.”
“He competed after we scored him a million runs,” Teddy said.
“He competed in the first when he struck out the last two guys,” Jack said.
Gus said, “You know he’s gonna cost us a game, right? And that game might cost us the play-offs.”
“He deserves a chance,” Jack said. “He could’ve just quit after the way he acted and his dad acted. I wonder how many teams he’s ever played on in his life that his dad didn’t coach.”
“But now you think you can coach him,” Gus said.
“I’m lucky I know how to coach you guys,” Jack said, smiling.
“J.B. would be a better starter,” Teddy said.
“Oh, I get it,” Jack said. “Now you want to coach.”
Teddy turned and looked at Cassie. “Admit we’d be better off without him.”
“It is too nice a day and I am having too much fun to spend any more time talking about Sam Anthony,” she said.
“He doesn’t belong,” Teddy said.
“You sound like one of my teammates talking about Sarah,” Cassie said.
“You’re comparing me to them?” Teddy said. “That’s cold.”
“Tell me how you’re different,” Cassie said. “You don’t just want to freeze out Sam. You want him off the team.”
Teddy shook his head. “It’s not the same.”
Cassie propped herself up on an elbow and smiled at Teddy Madden. It was her way of letting him know that they were always going to be on the same side, even when they were on the different side of an argument.
Cassie said, “If you’re the one on the outside, it’s always the same.”
TWENTY-TWO
The Red Sox were playing the softball team from Clements, called the Astros. Cassie was pitching, trying to continue the Red Sox winning streak and not only get them to 7–1, but tie for first place with the Astros, who came into the game at 7–0.
Cassie knew it was more than just first place being on the line. Amy Lewis was starting for the Astros. And if Cassie was the best pitcher in their league, Amy was 1A. Last season they’d faced each other twice, and Cassie had gotten the wins in both games, first 2–1, then 2–0.
For this one day, everything that had been going on with the Red Sox and was still going on, got shoved aside. It was Cassie’s best against Amy’s best. Cassie’s doing her job was the only thing that mattered, not Kathleen and the Shunners, which was the way Cassie had started thinking of them, as if they were a new girl band. She couldn’t worry about them, or her continuing non-relationship with Sarah.
I’m the one on an island today, Cassie thought.
The pitcher’s mound.
On the way to Highland Park, her dad said to her, “You’re still sure you don’t want me to talk to the other girls’ parents?”
“No!” Cassie said. Loudly.
She saw her dad grinning. “I’m not sure I caught that.”
“Dad, after all this time you really don’t know a lot about girls, do you?” Cassie said.
“I’d dispute that,” he said, “even though I’m pretty sure you’re mother would concur with you.”
“If you say something, it will only make things worse.”
“And you honestly think that they aren’t going to change the way they’re acting toward you before the end of the season?”
“Gotta hand it to them, Dad,” she said. “They’re as stubborn as I am.”
Chris Bennett laughed. “Good Lord,” he said. “The situation is far worse than I imagined!”
Jack and Teddy and Gus had already taken their seats in the top row of the bleachers behind the Sox bench when Cassie and her dad got to the field. Cassie went up and sat with them. It was one of the times when she wanted to hug them. Not just because they were here. But because they were always there for her.
Teddy said, “Amy Lewis. Your nemesis.”
“She’s really not my nemesis,” Cassie said. “I really like her. And I’ve always loved pitching against her.”
“Is the new girl gonna keep catching?” Gus said.
“Maria,” Cassie said. “Yeah.”
“She’s good,” Gus said.
“He meant to say ‘cute,’ ” Teddy said.
“First of all, I don’t think she’s cute,” Gus said. “And second of all, even if she did happen to be cute, she’s not talking to Cassie.”
“I don’t blame her,” Cassie said. “She’s just going along.”
Jack said, “When guys were bullying Teddy, the ones that bothered me the most were the ones who just went along.”
“I know,” Cassie said. “But can we talk about this later? I’ve got to go deal with my nemesis.”
“You said she wasn’t.”
“I might’ve lied,” Cassie said, smiling at all of them.
She bumped fists with them, one after another. Those were like hugs too. The guys just didn’t know it.
• • •
Cassie pitched the way she had in the first game of the season, except this time
