Then took a called strike.
0–2.
“He can’t lay off high pitches. Your friend Jack struck him out on really, really, really high pitches his first two times up. You should tell the new pitcher to do that.”
She walked away, on her way back to the other side of the field.
As she did, Cassie stood up and walked toward home plate, asking for time from the ump as she did.
• • •
By now Cassie was used to people watching her in sports. If you were good, and Cassie knew she was good, people watched you. And Cassie knew she liked that, in whatever sport she happened to be playing at the time. Part of the challenge of playing on the boys’ basketball team had been knowing that people were watching her more closely than ever.
She wasn’t playing now. She was a coach on a team that really wasn’t her team at all. But as she walked toward the pitcher’s mound, the ump having granted her the time-out, she could feel every set of eyes at Highland Park on her.
Starting with Jack Callahan’s.
He met her at the mound, along with Teddy.
“Uh, Cass,” Jack said, “kind of got a situation here.”
“You told me that if I noticed something to say something, right?” she said.
“And you noticed something?”
“Well, actually Sarah did.”
J. B. Scarborough said, “Who the heck is Sarah?”
“Let’s wrap this up, boys and girls,” the ump called from behind the plate.
“Girl I play with,” Cassie said. “Long story.”
Teddy pushed back his mask and said, “Really long.”
“She watches baseball really closely, and she remembers that this guy at the plate can’t lay off really high pitches. Can’t help himself. Jack struck him out twice throwing balls nearly over his head.”
The ump was slowly walking toward them.
Jack said, “She’s right.”
“I should have remembered,” Teddy said.
“We both should have,” Jack said.
“I hate to break this up,” the ump said.
Quickly Jack said to J.B., “Throw the next one in the dirt. Teddy will block it. Then throw the next one at eye level.”
“I can do that,” J.B. said, “sometimes without even trying.”
Cassie said, “Well, then, my work here is done.”
On her way back to the bench, she gave a quick look at the third-base bleachers. Sarah was in the top row.
Sarah Milligan, she thought, you better be right.
J.B., as instructed, threw his third pitch to Kenny Wright in the dirt. Teddy blocked it like a champ.
Now, Cassie thought.
J.B. threw his next pitch on about the same plane as the bill of Kenny Wright’s batting helmet. Kenny took a wild, hero swing. Missed it by a foot. Maybe more. Strike three. Ball game.
While the Cubs ran out to celebrate around J. B. Scarborough, Cassie walked over to the third-base side of Highland Park, then made her way up through the bleachers to where Sarah was still seated.
Cassie knew enough not to make a big deal with her about what had just happened. Didn’t try to high-five the girl who said she didn’t like being touched.
Cassie just said, “You were right.”
Sarah didn’t change her expression, or show any sign of acknowledging the compliment. It was as if Cassie were now the one pointing out the most obvious fact in the world.
“There’s all sorts of ways to show people you’re smart,” Sarah said. “Like, more ways than most people think out.”
“So I am learning,” Cassie said.
Sarah nodded.
“You’re not the only smart one about baseball,” she said to Cassie.
“So I’m learning,” Cassie said again.
“You should go hang with your friends now,” Sarah said.
Cassie did.
TWENTY-SEVEN
There was one game left for the Red Sox, against Hollis Hills. One game left for the Cubs, against South Haven, new to the league this season.
The Cubs had already clinched the best record. The Red Sox still needed to win. Both games were on Saturday.
On Friday afternoon Cassie and the guys were stretched out around Jack’s pool. There was no practice for any of them today, no place they needed to be. A perfect summer afternoon. The only big decision was where to have lunch.
“How come if the girls keep winning, they get to be on television and we don’t?” Teddy said.
“Maybe it’s because they show so much of the Little League World Series on ESPN,” Jack said.
“Or maybe they’ve finally figured out that girls’ softball is more fun to watch,” Cassie said.
“I’m serious,” Teddy said.
Gus grinned. “She is too.”
Jack said, “Hey, if we win the league championship, is it going to feel like any less of a championship even if it’s not on TV?”
“Wait a second!” Gus said. “I thought that if something isn’t on TV these days, it practically didn’t even happen.”
“Or on Instagram,” Teddy said.
“Or Facebook Live,” Jack said.
“I think it started with the Kardashians,” Cassie said. “Or maybe all those Real Housewives shows.”
“My mom says that if you’re being logical, they’re actually unreal housewives,” Jack said.
“I feel like I’ve been in one of those shows this season,” Cassie said. “The Real Softball Girls of Walton.”
“Just without the shouting,” Jack said.
“Yeah,” Cassie said. “Just a lot of real loud silence.”
She was on a lounge chair, just having gotten out of the water, staring up into the sky, wearing a big pair of glam sunglasses her mom had let her borrow.
She felt a huge sigh come out of her.
“I shouldn’t feel this way,” Cassie said. “But it kind of bothers me that if we win, a lot of the girls get exactly what they want.”
“You mean for them to get on TV,” Gus said.
“Totally,” Cassie said. “They act like complete losers all year, and end up winning.”
“But it shouldn’t take away from the feeling you’ll get if you win,” Jack said.
Cassie said, “I keep telling myself that.”
“How does Sarah feel about this stuff?” Teddy said. “Does she ever talk about the other girls with you?”
“She doesn’t talk about much of anything, except softball,” Cassie said. “I think she blocks out a lot of stuff, and she’s just sort of blocked off the other girls. I think she’s so used to being on the outside, she
