Free You Can Call Me Al by Crimson Cloak Publishing Page A

Jr. High
school’s team that Saturday. Johnny had gotten up early to complete
his chores that he had not finished the night before.
    Johnny wasn’t one of the best players on the
team, in fact he may have been close to the worst. He probably
would just sit on the bench all day Saturday, but it was fun
practicing anyway.
    The coach put them through some fielding and
hit and run drills. As the practice was coming to a conclusion,
Johnny spotted that man who had called himself Al. He was standing
by himself in left field halfway up the foul line.
    Johnny ran over to him and asked “Are you a
new teacher here or something?”
    “I am a teacher of sorts, Johnny, but I am
not assigned to this school.”
    The school system had strict regulations
against strange adults hanging around the playgrounds where young
children congregated. The students had been encouraged to report
any suspicious activity.
    “Are you following me? What do you
want?”
    Before Al could answer, a couple of Johnny’s
teammates yelled over to him from the dugout.
    “Hey Johnny, what are you doing over there
talking to yourself? Come into the dugout, the coach wants to give
us some last minute instructions before the game tomorrow.”
    “Can’t they see you?” Johnny asked in
surprise.
    “Yes they can, I am not invisible, but they
choose not to. I can cast an aura of indifference around myself.
Unless they are specifically looking for a person of my description
they won’t notice me. Now hurry, your coach is waiting.”
    Johnny didn’t even try and attempt to
understand that last remark as he sprinted back to the dugout.
    “ That Al guy sure is a little bit on the
strange side,” Johnny thought, as he later walked home from
practice. “Maybe I should tell Mom about him. No, I’ll just keep
it to myself for a while and see what happens, I don’t want to
worry Mom unnecessarily.”
    Saturday came and despite another forecast
of rain it turned out to be a bright and sunny day. Both teams were
warming up on the field. This would be the last game before
graduation. As usual they would play 7 innings. Their coach called
them into the dugout and read off the starting line-up. As
suspected, Johnny would not be starting. Johnny had only gotten
into a few games this year, always during the last inning when his
team was either well ahead in runs or so far behind that it didn’t
matter anymore.
    They were playing on their home field so the
other team came up to bat first. Two singles later, a tall lanky
kid came up and drove the ball over the left field fence. Just like
that, they were down 3 to 0. When Johnny’s team came up to bat in
the last half of the inning, Jason, their second baseman, hit a
sharp grounder between the third baseman and the shortstop. It went
out into left field and Jason tried to stretch it into a double.
The throw came in from the outfield and it looked like it was going
to be a close play at second. Jason slid hard into the base, just
beating the throw. His team cheered, and then the cheers quickly
subsided as Jason called time and began to hobble around. He kept
bending over and looking at his right ankle. The coach went out and
examined the injury, then helped Jason off of the field. His ankle
had swollen up like a balloon; the coach was going to have to send
him to the nurse who was on duty this morning. Jason would be out
for the rest of the game.
    Second base was also Johnny’s position.
Maybe he would finally get into a game early. Johnny looked up
expectantly at his coach.
    “Horace, go and pinch run for Jason and take
his place at second base next inning,” his coach instructed.
    Johnny was crestfallen. Horace was a short
chubby kid, he could hit the ball pretty well but was not really a
good infielder. He was also very slow. Johnny wasn’t a good hitter
or fielder, but he could at least run fast.
    Johnny watched Horace waddle out to second
base. “Horace is as slow as a milk truck with four flat
tires,” Johnny