Free A Long Pitch Home by Natalie Dias Lorenzi Page B

home.”
    She picks up my Nationals cap from the coffee table. “This was sitting on the bench when Uncle—er, Coach—Matt and Kyle were bringing in the equipment. I thought you might need it for tomorrow.”
    â€œOh, thank you.” I hadn’t even realized I’d left it behind. I step forward and take it from her.
    Jordan thanks my mom for the tea, smiles at Hira, and heads for the door.
    Humza’s cry from upstairs announces his nap is over, and Ammi excuses herself. Before leaving the room, she mouths to me, “Walk her to the door.”
    All the way down the hall, I try to think of something to say to Jordan. After that day at the pool last month, she keeps to herself at baseball camp. I don’t think the guys even notice. They are too busy avoiding her.
    She must be trying out for a travel softball team, so I say, “Good luck with the trying out.”
    Or should I have said tryouts ? While I am debating this, she smiles and looks surprised.
    â€œThanks, Bilal.” She steps onto the porch and reaches for her bat and glove, which are leaning against the brick wall of the house. “At first I thought I’d hold on to your cap until tomorrow, but then I wondered if it’s your lucky charm.”
    â€œLucky charm?”
    She shrugs, threading her bat through her cap and glove before resting it on her shoulder. “If it’s a lucky cap, I figured you’d want it back.”
    I don’t know the word charm , but she obviously realizes I need lots of luck.
    She nods. “See you tomorrow, then.”
    â€œOh, I am not trying out.”
    Her eyebrows rise. “But I saw your name on the list.”
    I shrug. “Jalaal signed me up. But I will not make the team.”
    â€œHow do you know? You’re a great pitcher.”
    â€œThank you. But even you say I need luck.”
    She shakes her head, sending her curls bobbing. “We all could use some luck.”
    Maybe, but Jordan needs a lot less luck than I do.
    â€œAnyway, you should think about it.” Jordan turns and heads toward the sidewalk, her glove and cap swinging from the bat over her shoulder.
    She’s halfway down the front walk when she turns and comes back. “So do you want to practice pitching sometime?”
    Her question catches me by surprise. Does she mean practice with her?
    When I don’t answer right away, two bright spots of red appear on her cheeks and she puts her cap back on over her curls. “I know your cousin practices with you, and I’ve got Uncle Matt. But since we’re both new . . . just thought I’d ask.”
    While I try to figure out the right words to say, she props one fist on her hip.
    Why does she want to practice baseball anyway, when Akash says she is going to play softball? Maybe she thinks I need help, which is right. Maybe she just likes to play, and Coach Matt is too busy to practice with her.
    I am about to say that I’ll practice with her when Hira’s voice drifts down the hall from the living room: “Baba!”
    I step back inside. In Urdu, I call, “Tell Baba I want to talk, too!”
    Jordan shifts from one foot to the other. “Or there are these batting cages, if you haven’t been.”
    Ammi swoops down the stairs with Humza. “Yes, Humza—it’s Baba!” She hurries down the hall and disappears into the living room.
    Jordan stands on tiptoe to see what’s happening behind me, but I know she didn’t understand Ammi’s Urdu words.
    â€œI must go.” I close the door and then open it again quickly, because I know I seem rude. “Sorry!” I close the door again and race into the living room.
    Hira leans toward the computer, arms around Humza, giggling and nodding as Baba smiles from the screen. “That’s right, Baba—camping. It’s what Girl Scouts do. Ammi says I have to be older first, so I thought of a great idea! I’m going to camp