Free Rounding Third by Walter G. Meyer Page B

and
Coke.”
    “That’s not necessary, Mr. Wardell.”
    “My pleasure. After the past few weeks of
long days and long nights, I can’t tell you what a treat it’s going to be to
get home and to bed before 1 a.m.”
    Rob wondered why Josh could talk to his
father so easily. Why he couldn’t talk to his own father that way. He was
always afraid if he talked too much, he might say the wrong thing.
    After Josh drove off, Mr. Wardell turned to
his wife and said, “We should adopt him.”
    “We should,” Meg seconded.
    “Or just work out a trade,” Rob suggested.
“Josh for Meg and a player to be named later.” Meg slugged him in the stomach.
    “Maybe he can teach our kids to be
civilized,” Mrs. Wardell teased.
                           
*                     
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*                     
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*
        
Meg was right. Mathias Schlagel did look frightening. A scar gashed his face in
front of one ear. His mouth was in a permanent sneer caused by a scar that
pulled one corner up. That eye drooped down as though the mouth and eye were
trying to meet. Disfigurements aside, he looked like Josh, not quite as tall,
and with a little thicker build, but the same hair that was somewhere between
blond and brown and glistened when the light hit it. The same green eyes. But
with scars that could intimidate a biker gang. Rob wondered what sort of
accident he had been in. The life experience on his face made him appear older
than his baby-faced brother, Josh.
        
As they walked behind home plate, surveying the field, Mat said, “I have this
sudden urge to floss.”
        
“What?” Rob asked.
        
Mat pointed to the strange-looking light poles that surrounded the outfield.
“They look like giant toothbrushes.”
        
Josh asked Mat to take a photo of him and Rob in front of the Bob Feller
statue. Josh said, “He had three no-hitters. The guy was amazing.”
        
“It was easy for him,” Mat said. “He was fifteen feet tall.”
        
“The statue isn’t life-size,” Rob said.
        
“Oh,” Mat said with a wink.
        
“Don’t listen to him,” Josh smiled.
    They had bought tickets on the 300 level, far
down the right field line, but by the third inning had made their way to some
empty seats ten rows behind the Indians dugout and from there watched the Tribe
trounce the Blue Jays 9-2. They were prime foul ball seats and the boys just
missed catching several that came their way--other than that, the day had been
pretty much perfect.
    As they drove home Josh said, “Now the bad
news. My mother wants to meet you.”
        
“Oh shit,” Mat said.
        
“What’s wrong?” Rob looked around at Mat in the back seat.
        
“She never likes any of our friends, and then we’re not allowed to see them
anymore,” Mat answered.
        
Josh said, “Since I’ve been spending so much time at your house, she wants to
know who I’m hanging out with.”
        
“Why doesn’t she like them?”
        
“Any number of reasons.” Mat said. “They aren’t polite enough. They look like
they’d be a bad influence. They don’t get good enough grades. Pick one. Pick
all. Logic has nothing to do with why she dislikes people. She wouldn’t let us
watch Mr. Rogers’ Neighborhood ‘cause he acted too faggy.”
        
“If she didn’t pick them from our church,” Josh added, “They basically aren’t
good enough. Comments like Meg made the other day about your family not going
to church--that would be the end of it right then.”
        
Rob looked at Josh. “So I’ve already failed the test?”
        
“Pretty much,” Mat said. “No offense, Rob, but I’d give you an F right now and
save you the trip to planet Schlagel.”
        
“When is this test supposed to happen?”
        
“She told me to have you