Boys in Control

  The Malloys piled out just as the Hatfords were getting out of their car. Peter was squeezed between his parents in front. Caroline studied the Hatford boys. Jake didn't look nervous at all. The Hatfords looked in control of the situation. Jake, in fact, looked as though he could handle anything. There was a swagger to his walk as he sauntered over to survey the other team, which was warming up out on the field.

  Parents and friends took their places on the bleachers, Elkins parents on one end, Buckman parents on the other. There was an empty space, a noman's-land, in between.

  The Hatfords sat in front of the Malloys, and as soon as they were seated, Peter turned around and said, “Jake's gonna strike everybody out!” The others laughed.

  “We'll see what happens, Peter. We'll see,” said his dad.

  The other team was at bat, and Eddie was the starting pitcher. But Caroline could tell just by her windup that she was off her stride. The ball didn't come as fast as it usually did, and the first batter hit it to center field. Fortunately for Buckman, it was caught. One out.

  The next batter walked. The third batter hit a double, and the runner on first scored. By the time the first inning was over, Elkins had one run, Buckman, nothing.

  The coach was talking to Eddie and Jake. And Caroline knew without hearing that Jake would pitch the second inning. While Eddie was waiting her turn at bat, she paced behind the catcher like a tiger. Nibble, nibble, nibble went her teeth on her lower lip.

  “What do you suppose is wrong with her?” Mrs. Malloy asked her husband.

  “Just the first time she's played on a real team,” her husband answered. “No matter how much practice you get, there's always that first time.” Mr. Malloy was a football coach at Buckman College. He was replacing Coach Benson for a year on a teacher-exchange program. Whether he would take his family back to Ohio when the year was over or stay in Buckman had not yet been decided.

  Buckman struck out before Eddie got a chance to bat. When the Badgers took the field again, the coach put Eddie in left field and Jake on the pitcher's mound. Jake struck out two batters and got the third out on a weak infield fly.

  When Buckman's players came to bat, Eddie was batting third. The first boy struck out. The second batter made it to first when the shortstop fumbled the ball. When Eddie got up, Mr. Malloy murmured to Caroline, “She's leaning too far forward.” Eddie swung and missed.

  “Strike one!” called the umpire.

  Eddie didn't swing at the second pitch.

  “Strike two!” the umpire said.

  Eddie lifted the bat slightly off her shoulder. The Elkins pitcher wound up and threw the ball. Eddie swung.

  Craaaaack! Eddie, surprised that she had actually hit the ball, let go of the bat as she started to run to first. The next thing anyone knew, the bat had traveled down the line of Buckman players waiting their turn and hit two of them across the knees.

  The umpire stopped play.

  “You're out of the game, Eddie,” he yelled. “She's out of the game, Coach, for throwing her bat.”

  Down on the field, Eddie looked stricken. Dazed.

  “I…I didn't mean to,” she kept saying.

  Her coach shook his head. “You know the rules, Eddie. You never let go of the bat like that. You could have hit a player in the face. Go sit on the bench.”

  Beth covered her face with her hands, but Caroline couldn't take her eyes off her older sister. Seemingly in shock, Eddie went slowly back to the bench and sat down, her face blank.

  The game continued without her. Jake had never played better. He was in control of his arm and his arm was in control of the ball. Buckman tied the score, then got a run in the eighth inning. No one scored in the ninth, so Buckman advanced to the next game the following Saturday. The team was greeted with cheers as they picked up their bats and balls to go home.

  Eddie didn't say a word as she followed her family across the parking lot to the car. Coach Malloy reached out and put an arm around her shoulder, but Eddie didn't respond. It was only when they were inside the car that she said shakily, “I don't know what was the matter, Dad! I just blew it, that's all. I've never thrown a bat like that, ever!”

  “And I don't think you will again, Eddie,” said her father.

  “I just felt like… like everyone was looking at me, expecting great things, and that no matter how well I played, it wouldn't be good enough,” she said miserably.

  Coach Malloy smiled a little. “Well, by next week, word will get around that you aren't very good after all, and nobody will expect much of anything. And then you can show them what you can do.”

  Eddie sat with her head down. “This is so humiliating!” she murmured. “Jake didn't seem nervous at all. He's going to hate me for letting the team down.”

  “Oh, I don't think so,” said her dad. “The Badgers won, didn't they? Show up every day for practice, Eddie, and do your best.”

  The girls went upstairs as soon as they got home, and Eddie seemed too tired even to talk. She certainly didn't want any lunch. When the phone rang, Caroline took it in the upstairs hall. It was Jake.

  “Can I talk to Eddie?” he said.

  “Eddie,” Caroline called. “For you. It's Jake.”

  “I don't want to talk to him,” said Eddie. “Tell him I'm sick or something.”

  “I guess she's too tired,” said Caroline into the phone.

  There was a pause at the end of the line. “Well, tell her I'm going over to the school this afternoon and get in some practice, and I wondered if she wanted to come along,” said Jake.

  “Just a minute,” said Caroline. She walked to the door of Eddie's bedroom and told her what Jake had said.

  Eddie was quiet for a moment. “Yes,” she said finally.

  “Tell him I'd like that.”

  Five

  Act One

  When Jake set off for the school ball field that afternoon, he told his brothers to stay home.

  “Eddie doesn't need to have people staring at her,” he said. “She feels bad enough already.”

  Wally could only stare at Jake. It seemed to Wally that while Eddie had lost her self-confidence, Jake seemed to have found his. Now that Eddie had proved she wasn't so hot, wasn't superhuman, Jake could shine. And once he shone, he didn't have to dislike Eddie so much.

  “We need her on the team,” Jake said to his brothers. “If she doesn't play any better than she did this morning, we'll lose.” He went outside and down the street toward the school.

  Wally decided to spend the afternoon reading Wringer for his book report, but he was almost afraid to go in his bedroom anymore. It seemed as though every time he left, the bags and boxes along the wall had babies. All he had to do was leave the house for an hour or two and when he came back there would be another lampshade or Crock-Pot or toaster.

  “Just hold on till the end of the month, Wally, and you'll have your room back the way it was,” said his mother.

  “What if some of this stuff doesn't sell?” he asked.

  “Mrs. Larson's son has promised to haul away to the Goodwill store anything that's left,” his mother said.

  It was a beautiful spring day, so Wally decided he would rather read outside than in his room anyway. He went out on the back steps with a glass of lemonade and his book and tried to think how much lemon juice and water it took to make a pitcher of lemonade. And once he started thinking about water, he thought about how much rain they had had that spring. Once he started thinking about what a rainy spring it had been, he started to remember the year before, when it had hardly rained at all and farmers had worried about drought. The newspaper had asked people to take fewer baths and shorter showers. They were told not to water their lawns and to make sure their dishwashers were full before they turned them on.

  Here's what Wally could not understand: If the water from your sink and your bathtub went into the sewer, and the sewers flowed into rivers, and the water you drank came from the river, through filtration plants, and then back on int
o your house, what difference did it make if you used too much bathwater or not? Didn't it just end up in the river again? He knew there must be a good reason, but no one had ever explained it to him.

  He had taken another sip of lemonade when he saw Caroline coming up his driveway. He tried to pull his feet out of the way so that she wouldn't know he was out back, but it was too late. Around the house she came. She was holding a writing tablet and pencil.

  “Hi, Wally,” she said. “I guess Jake and Eddie are over at the school practicing, aren't they?”

  “I guess so,” said Wally.

  “Eddie was pretty upset over the way she played this morning. Jake was nice to offer to practice with her.”

  “I guess so,” said Wally again, studying the slice of lemon in his glass.

  “I brought over the first act of my play, Wally. Can I read it to you for your frank and honest opinion?”

  “I guess so,” said Wally.

  Caroline studied him. “You have to be one hundred percent honest or it won't help,” she said. “When I get to be an actress on Broadway, critics will come to see me perform and the newspapers will publish their reviews. I have to get used to criticism, so say whatever you really feel about it. Okay?”

  “Okay,” said Wally.

  Caroline cleared her throat, held the tablet out in front of her, and began: “A Night to Forget,” she read.

  “Act one, scene one: A cottage on the beach. Ten o'clock at night. A couple is on their honeymoon.”

  JIM: Wasn't that a nice walk on the beach, honey?

  NANCY: Yes, it was. And wasn't the moon beautiful?

  JIM: Yes, it was.

  NANCY: I wonder what those strange marks were on the sand, though.

  JIM: Probably just a crab or some sort of seagull.

  NANCY: I suppose so. She yawns.

  JIM: Well, I guess we should go to bed.

  NANCY: Yes, I'm very tired.

  JIM: I'll turn out the lights.

  NANCY: Wait a minute. What was that noise? It sounds like something trying to get in.

  JIM: Probably just the wind. I think you're imagining things.

  NANCY: I suppose so. Good night.

  JIM: Good night.

  They kiss.

  Wally found Caroline looking at him. He also felt his neck beginning to get red.

  “Okay so far?” asked Caroline.

  “I guess so,” said Wally.

  “Act one, scene two,” said Caroline. “Twelve o'clock at night. Jim and Nancy's bedroom. There is just enough moonlight coming in the window that the audience can see what's onstage.”

  NANCY: Jim! Jim! Wake up. I hear that noise again.

  JIM: Huh?

  NANCY: I hear it, and it's louder now! I really think someone's trying to get in.

  JIM: But we're the only ones on the beach. There aren't any other houses for miles around. Who would it be?

  NANCY: I don't know, but I think you should do something.

  JIM: Okay. I hear it now too. I'll go downstairs and check.

  There is a sloshing, thumping, scraping noise offstage. N ANCY : Oh, Jim! Be careful!

  JIM: Don't fear, my love. I'll be okay.

  Nancy sits up in bed with one hand to her throat. Jim grabs a golf club and goes out into the hall in his pajamas. The noise gets louder and louder, and then there is a terrible yell from Jim.

  NANCY: Jim! Jim!

  There is a gurgling sound from downstairs and then the house is quiet. Nancy leaps out of bed and backs up against the wall, her eyes wide. When Jim does not come back, she runs over and locks the bedroom door and then she gets back in bed. Soon she is sound asleep.

  “What?” said Wally. “Her husband disappears and she just goes back to sleep?”

  Caroline thoughtfully tapped her pencil against her cheek. “Okay,” she said. “She'll lie there with her eyes wide open until morning.” Caroline made a note on her tablet, then began reading aloud again:

  Act one, scene three: Morning in the cottage. Nancy sits up in bed sobbing.

  NANCY: Jim! Jim! Where are you? There is no answer. She gets out of bed and looks out the window. The sky is dark and brooding.

  NANCY: I know! I'll call the beach patrol. They will come over and help us. She lifts up the telephone. Oh, no! The line is dead!

  She puts on her robe and combs her hair. Then she takes another one of her husband's golf clubs and carefully opens the bedroom door.

  NANCY: Jim? Jim?

  She takes a step outside into the hall.

  NANCY: Jim? Jim?

  No answer. She screams. She puts her hands to her face. She screams again. She bends down and touches something on the floor. The floor and the stairs are covered with a thick green slime. Curtain falls. End of act one.

  Caroline closed her writing tablet and looked at Wally. “Well,” she said, “how did you like it?”

  “It stinks,” said Wally.

  “What?” cried Caroline.

  “You wanted me to be truthful,” said Wally.

  “But you have to say more than ‘It stinks,’ ” said Caroline. “This play has everything! It has romance and science fiction and suspense and mystery!”

  “It still stinks,” said Wally. And then, thinking that perhaps he sounded a bit harsh, he said, “Of course, I've only heard the first act. I probably shouldn't say anything until I've heard it all.”

  “Right,” said Caroline. “But what's the matter with it so far?”

  Wally shrugged. “They don't sound like real people. Why didn't the wife call the beach patrol before? Why did she wait till morning?”

  Caroline thought about that a moment. “Because I wanted her to discover that the line was dead at the end of act one, and that would be the next morning.”

  “Well, why wouldn't she go downstairs as soon as she heard her husband scream, then?”

  “Because I'm saving that for act two,” said Caroline.

  “Well,” said Wally. “Like I said, so far it stinks, but maybe the next act will be better.”

  Caroline sighed. “Maybe I'm a better actress than I am a playwright. But I wanted to write a play with a part especially for me.”

  “So does Nancy die a horrible death in the end? That would be a good part for you,” said Wally.

  “I can't give away the ending,” said Caroline.

  “Who's going to play the part of Jim?” asked Wally, and when Caroline just looked at him and smiled, he said, “No!”

  “That's okay,” said Caroline. “When I've finished it, it will be so good that every boy in school will want to play the part of Jim.”

  “Name one,” said Wally.

  Caroline thought some more. “Well, Peter, maybe.”

  Wally laughed out loud, and Caroline smiled a little too. “Just wait, Wally,” she said. “Someday you will see my name in lights on Broadway and you'll be proud to say you knew me when I was just a little girl.”

  Six

  Scavenger Hunt

  Girls,” Mrs. Malloy called up the stairs when the girls got home from school the following Wednesday. “When you finish your homework, will you take a half hour or so to check your rooms and see if you have anything—any nice thing—that we could donate to Ellen Hatford for the yard sale?”

  “Like what?” asked Eddie.

  “Oh, maybe a shirt you haven't worn much. Belts, jewelry, anything at all that might catch someone's eye. I've put a box in the hall up there for your things. But don't give away anything with holes in it. We'll put things like that in the rag bag, and I can use them around the house.”

  Eddie was the most generous when it came to giveaways. She stood at her closet door, sliding hangers from left to right. For each item she said either a soft yes or no. A yes meant it could be given away, and she would yank it off the hanger and throw it onto her bed. A no meant it was a keeper. To Caroline, it seemed as though Eddie had no second thoughts. No sentimental attachments. And when she had finished her closet, she started on her dresser
drawers.

  Beth was more of a problem, especially with books. Asking Beth to get rid of a book was about like asking Mrs. Malloy to get rid of a daughter. But Caroline was the absolute worst, and she knew it. Caroline, it seemed, could get rid of nothing, because every object, every item of clothing, every old sneaker, in fact, was something that she might, someday, in middle school or high school, be able to use as a prop in a play. It might be just the right necklace for the part, or the right music box, or even the perfect motheaten sweater for an orphaned child to wear onstage. When Mrs. Malloy came upstairs later to see how the girls were doing, she found a box full of Eddie's things, only a jacket from Beth, and nothing at all from Caroline.

  Caroline sat on her bed, surrounded by things her mother thought she'd parted with years before, mistyeyed and clutching each one to her in turn.

  “Good grief,” said Mrs. Malloy. “I'm not asking you to sacrifice body parts, Caroline. If you haven't made use of something since first grade, let it go, for heaven's sake.”

  And so a little doll in a Swiss costume was donated to the sale, a Bambi video, a pair of patent leather shoes that were a size too small, and a wool cap.

  “We're not supposed to take things over to the Hat-fords’ yet, so we'll keep them here until the night before the sale,” Mrs. Malloy said. “But this will save us some work later if we move back to Ohio.”

  “ Will we go back, Mother?” Beth asked.

  “I wish I knew! One day your father thinks he'll stay on here for another year as football coach and the next he doesn't. It will depend partly on whether Coach Benson decides to move his family back from Georgia and take over their house. It's like dominoes. Every-one's waiting for the next piece to fall.”

  “Well, I feel great!” Eddie announced at supper. “I've done well at practice every day this week, and I don't think I'll be too nervous at Saturday's game. I was afraid the coach would take me off the team after last week, but he says no way. Just a question of the first-game jitters, he calls it.”