“Excuse me?” said Kristy. “Who are you?”
“I am Jack Darvin. My sister, Alice, is new on your team. She’s eight. I want her looking good when she comes up to bat,” said Jack.
“She will look as good as she looks,” replied Kristy.
“If you ask me, you are going about this all wrong. You should not put the kids up to bat in alphabetical order. You should put the best players up first,” said Jack.
“Well, I did not ask you,” said Kristy. “Batter up!”
When it was Alice’s turn, she walked up to home plate and waited for the ball to come her way.
“Time out!” called Jack.
“Excuse me!” said Kristy. “I am the coach. I am the only one who calls for a time out.”
“Someone needs to show my sister how to hold the bat correctly,” said Jack. “Helping her out is your job. But since you are not doing it, I will.”
Kristy gave Jack a meanie-mo look.
“Play ball!” she called.
Alice tried her best, but struck out. Jack stamped his foot on the ground. The next player struck out also. By the time the game was over, the score was Bashers 6, Krushers 0.
Well, at least I made it to first base.
Krushers-Only
Some Krushers did not get a chance to play on Saturday. That is because there were so many of us. Kristy called for a Krushers-only practice on Sunday. She split us into two teams.
David Michael was pitching for one team. (He finished all his homework on Saturday, so he was allowed to come to practice again.) Nicky was pitching for the other team.
Natalie Springer was first at bat. I did not think she would get a hit. She is not such a good ball player. That is partly because her socks are always drooping. She stops to pull them up at the oddest times. I once saw the ball fly past her and she didn’t even know because she was bending down!
“Natalie, are your socks okay?” asked Kristy.
Natalie looked down. Her socks were bunched around her ankles. She bent over and pulled them up.
“Play ball!” called Kristy.
Nicky threw the ball.
Whack! Natalie hit the very first pitch! She got all the way to second base.
“Way to go, Natalie!” we all shouted.
David Michael was up next. He looked unhappy.
“Has anyone seen my bat?” he asked.
“It should be with the others,” said Nancy. “I know we brought it.”
“It isn’t there. I already looked,” replied David Michael.
We stopped the game to look for David Michael’s bat. It was taking forever.
Finally Kristy said, “We cannot spend our whole practice looking for your bat, David Michael. It is no surprise that it is missing. You have been so sloppy and disorganized lately.”
David Michael looked hurt. I felt bad for him. I picked up the bat I had used the day before.
“Here, try this one,” I said. “I used it yesterday and got to first base. It is a very good bat.”
David Michael used the bat. He struck out.
Our next two players struck out, too. (Natalie was disappointed because she did not get to run to home plate.)
It was the other team’s turn at bat. Hannie was first up.
“Has anyone seen a batting glove?” she asked.
“Here is one,” said Kristy.
“No, that is a left-hand batting glove. I need a right-hand glove,” replied Hannie.
“I saw someone else use one today. So it must be here somewhere,” said Kristy.
We looked and looked, but could not find it. (We did find David Michael’s bat, though. It was under somebody’s sweatshirt.)
“Can you please play without the glove, Hannie?” asked Kristy. She seemed annoyed about all the missing equipment.
“I guess so,” replied Hannie. She seemed annoyed, too. She was even more annoyed when she struck out.
It was another hectic practice. Things were missing. Our coach was cranky. Players were striking out (even more than usual). At least I did not strike out. That was because I never made it up to bat.
I did not mind too much about the practice, though. I had other important things on my mind. I had a lot to do when I got home.
I had to pick out a special outfit to wear to school on Monday. I had to help Mommy frost the cupcakes we had made the night before. And I had to make two cards — one for Ms. Colman and one for Mrs. Hoffman.
I had to do all these things because Monday was Mrs. Hoffman’s last day as our substitute teacher. And it was Ms. Colman’s first day back. Hooray!
Ms. Colman, Where Are You?
On Monday morning, Nancy and I waited for the school bus together.
“You look very pretty,” I said. Nancy was all dressed up for the party.
“Thank you. So do you,” Nancy replied.
I was hoping she would say that. I had on a new green jumper with a yellow T-shirt underneath. I had on yellow socks and a yellow ribbon in my hair. I had even tied a yellow ribbon around the box of frosted cupcakes I was carrying. (Nancy was bringing berries and melon slices for the party.)
All we could talk about on the way to school was Ms. Colman and the party.
“I cannot wait to see her,” I said. “I wonder if she will look different.”
“Maybe she will look tired,” replied Nancy. “Some little babies cry a lot at night. I know because of Danny.” (Danny is Nancy’s baby brother.)
“I hope Ms. Colman brings pictures of Jane,” I said.
I hoped there would be one of Jane wrapped up in the baby present I gave her. It was a beautiful blanket I knitted all by myself. (Well, almost all by myself. Nannie helped a little.)
Nancy and I were the first ones off the bus when it pulled up at school.
“Let’s hurry,” I said. “Ms. Colman may have come in early. We do not want her sitting all alone.”
We ran into school. We were not as fast as usual because we were carrying our cupcakes and fruit.
We stopped at Mr. Berger’s class, which is right next door to ours. (We had arranged to leave our party things in his room so the surprise would not be ruined.)
When I got to our door, I stopped short. Someone was sitting at Ms. Colman’s desk. But it was not Ms. Colman. It was Mrs. Hoffman. I burst through the door.
“Hurry, Mrs. Hoffman! You need to hide!” I said. “If Ms. Colman comes in and sees you, the surprise will be ruined.”
“I am sorry, Karen. But there is not going to be a surprise for Ms. Colman today. She is not coming in after all,” Ms. Hoffman replied.
“Why not? Where is she?” I asked.
“Ms. Colman is at home. I know how much you wanted her to be here. But she is not quite ready to leave Jane and come back to school,” said Mrs. Hoffman.
I felt my shoulders droop.
“When will she be ready?” I asked.
“She has promised to come back for the final week of school. It is not very far off,” said Mrs. Hoffman.
More kids started coming into the room.
“What’s up?” asked Hannie. “Where is Ms. Colman?”
Nancy and I told everyone the news as they arrived.
“You see,” said Natalie. “I told you so.”
Natalie is a big worrier. The day Ms. Colman told us that she was going to take a leave from school, Natalie started worrying that she might never come back at all.
Hmm. I was starting to wonder if Natalie had been right.
I was feeling kind of gloomy and wondering what we were going to do with all our party food when Mrs. Hoffman made an announcement.
“I know Ms. Colman cares about you very much. I am sure she would not want you to feel sad today,” said Mrs. Hoffman. “So I think we should go ahead with our party this afternoon. It will not be a welcome-back party. It will be a see-you-soon party.”
We all thought this was a gigundoly good idea. Hooray for Mrs. Hoffman!
Very Mysterious
There was another Krus
hers practice after school that day. Kristy was calling for practices almost every day. It was the only way to give everyone a chance to play.
Kristy divided us up into two teams. (She changed the teams each time we played.) Nicky had a dentist appointment, so we needed another pitcher.
Kristy got her notebook from the equipment bag and began leafing through it. I looked over her shoulder. Kristy’s notes about the players are in the book. She writes down statistics and things like that.
“This is strange,” she said. “Some pages are missing.”
“Maybe they fell into the equipment bag,” said Nancy.
“No way. The pages could not have fallen out by themselves,” Kristy replied. “They had to be ripped out. But we cannot do anything about it now.”
She turned to Matt and asked him in sign language if he would fill in as pitcher. Kristy knows she can count on Matt to play any position because he is so good.
“Ricky, you are first at bat for your team,” she said.
“Go, Ricky!” I called. (I always cheer for my pretend husband no matter which team he is on.)
David Michael was already on the pitcher’s mound. The rest of us took our positions. (I was way out in the field with a bunch of other kids. Boring!)
“Play ball!” called Kristy.
First came the wind-up. Then the pitch. Wham! Ricky hit the ball down the third base line.
“Go, Ricky!” I shouted. Ricky made it to second and stopped.
Then Hannie, who was the catcher, called time out. I heard her tell Kristy she had to go to the bathroom.
“Natalie, will you fill in as catcher?” asked Kristy.
“Sure,” Natalie replied. “But I need the left-hand catcher’s mitt.”
“Nancy, have you seen it?” called Kristy.
“It was right here on top of the equipment bag when we started. But I do not see it now,” Nancy replied.
Uh-oh. Missing pages. Missing catcher’s mitt.
“Let’s not waste time looking for it now,” said Kristy. “Natalie, you can be catcher another day. Karen, will you fill in?”
Yes! I took my place behind home plate.
“Play ball!” I called. Kristy gave me a Look. (It is not the catcher’s job to start the game.)
Jackie Rodowsky was up next. First he tripped on his way to home plate. (Jackie has a lot of accidents.) Then he got three strikes in a row.
It was time for the teams to switch places. Matt headed for the pitcher’s mound. He picked up a ball. A grossed-out look spread across his face.
“Slimy and sticky!” he signed.
A few of us ran over to check it out. The ball was covered with sticky white paste. It took a while, but we figured out that it was Elmer’s glue.
Things were getting very mysterious.
Detectives
More things were stolen at practice on Tuesday: two bats, another left-hand catcher’s mitt, another right-hand batting glove. On Wednesday, Kristy’s notebook disappeared for awhile. When it turned up again, something mysterious had happened to it.
“I don’t get it. Someone erased my statistics and wrote in phony numbers,” said Kristy.
Who was doing these mysterious things? And why? This was a case for serious detectives. It was a case for the Three Musketeers.
I called Hannie and Nancy over for a meeting.
“We have a real mystery here,” I said. “If we do not solve the case soon, the Krushers could be ruined for the season.”
“You are right,” said Nancy. “I will watch the equipment very carefully. No one will get near it without my seeing.”
“I will watch to make sure no one gets Kristy’s notebook again,” said Hannie.
“I will be a secret spy,” I said. “If anyone is plotting against the Krushers, I will hear them!”
(I am not allowed to spy at home. But this was different. Spying is important when you are working on a case.)
“Come on, Karen!” called Kristy. “I want you to be catcher again today.”
“Great,” I whispered to my friends. “I will be behind home plate. It is the perfect place for a spy.”
When I got to my position, Paul Johnson, one of the new kids on the team, was arguing with Kristy.
“Karen was catcher yesterday,” said Paul. “Just because she is your sister does not mean she gets to be catcher every time.”
“I am letting her be catcher again because she did a good job yesterday,” said Kristy.
“I am a good catcher, too,” moaned Paul. “When do I get a turn?”
“And how about Alice?” said her big brother, Jack. “She is a good catcher. You have to give her a turn.”
“Oh, all right,” said Kristy. “Paul and Alice can replace Karen and Ricky as catchers when the game is half over.”
Boo. I felt like saying something to whiny Paul and pushy Jack. But I decided that I could spy just as well from the outfield. Maybe even better because there were so many players out there.
Once Kristy got the teams set up, she called, “Play ball!”
Hannie was up at bat first.
“Psst! Have you seen anything suspicious?” I asked.
“Not yet,” whispered Hannie.
Matt pitched a perfect fly ball to Hannie. Thwack! Hannie hit it. She was safe at first base.
“Way to go, Hannie!” I called, even though she is on the other team. (The Three Musketeers stick together. One for all and all for one.)
Behind me I heard familiar voices. I turned for a second and saw Jerry and Joanna. They are Bashers. Hmm. What were they doing here? Maybe they were spying on the Krushers. Maybe they were trying to get important information to give to the Bashers. Information that could help them win the big game.
Things were getting exciting. As soon as the inning was over, I reported the news to Hannie and Nancy.
Interesting Clues
On Thursday, Kristy asked Matt to pitch again.
“Where is David Michael?” I asked.
“He had more schoolwork to do,” replied Kristy. “Mom and Watson are being really strict with him. They say schoolwork is more important than softball.”
Poor David Michael. Who wants to stay inside on a sunny day when everyone else is practicing softball?
Not David Michael. About fifteen minutes into the practice he showed up.
“Hi! Did you finish your schoolwork?” I asked.
“Not yet. But I really want to play. I snuck out,” replied David Michael.
“I heard that,” said Kristy. “You are not staying here. No way. You have to go home right this minute.”
“You are always siding with Mom and Watson. You never take my side,” yelled David Michael. He gave Kristy a dirty look and stomped off.
Before the game started, the Three Musketeers Detective Agency had a meeting. (We decided to call ourselves that name until the case was solved.)
“I noticed something interesting,” said Hannie. “Only left-hand catcher’s mitts and right-hand batting gloves have been taken. That means if the thief is keeping them, he or she must be right-handed.”
“Excellent,” I said. “Now we have to find out who is right-handed and who is left-handed.”
“How will we do it?” asked Nancy.
“We can study the kids who are playing,” said Hannie. “And we can toss balls to the other kids and see which hand they catch with.”
We started doing our research right away. By the time Kristy called for a break, we had learned that most kids were right-handed. There seemed to be only a few left-handers: Natalie, Julian, Marty, and two new kids, Margaret and Allen. We still had more testing to do. Then I had a brainstorm.
“I think we are on the wrong track,” I said. “Everyone is allowed to use Krushers equipment. You do not need your own. That means no one would have to steal it to use it.”
“So why is equipment disappearing?” asked Nancy.
I had to think hard.
“I’ve got it!” I said. “Whoeve
r is stealing equipment wants to keep it away from other players.”
“Probably the good ones,” said Nancy. “The best players all happen to be right-handed.”
“Then the robber is probably left-handed,” said Hannie.
The game was starting again. Nancy said she would peek at Kristy’s notebook while we were playing. Then she would report back to us.
By the time the game ended, my team had won. And Nancy had important information.
“The players’ section of the notebook is arranged alphabetically,” said Nancy. “The pages that are missing go from M to W. The robber’s last name probably begins with one of those letters.”
“The criminal is not any of the kids whose statistics were changed,” said Hannie. “Those numbers were made lower. The criminal would have made his or her own numbers higher.”
“I noticed the other day that the new numbers were written in with extra-dark pencil. And the eraser turned the page pink,” I said.
“We are looking for a left-handed kid,” said Hannie.
“Whose last name begins with a letter between M and W,” said Nancy.
“The criminal uses a dark pencil with a pinkish eraser,” I said.
Hmm. These were very interesting clues.
Ewww and Ouch
“Ewww!” cried Natalie.
We were at practice on Friday. Kristy was giving Natalie a turn at being catcher. Natalie flung the catcher’s mitt across the field.
“What is wrong?” asked Kristy, running to her.
“Slime! Ewwy-gooey slime!” replied Natalie. She looked as though she were going to cry.
I ran over with Hannie and Nancy to check out the glove. Sure enough, there was Elmer’s glue inside. Someone had squeezed some of it into the fingers of the glove.
Natalie felt better when she found out what was on her fingers. But she was still shaken up. We were trying to calm her down when we heard another Krusher scream, “Ouch!”
It was Jake Kuhn. He is eight and a really nice kid. Poor Jake was lying in a heap across a pile of bats. He was holding his ankle. He was rocking and moaning. I was the first one to reach him.
“Let me help you take off your sneaker,” I said.