Free Pinch Hit by Tim Green Page B

gotten a script done and why he never would, either. But that wouldn’t help Trevor play baseball. He grit his teeth and kept going.
    â€œWhat’s the matter?” Sam’s dad asked.
    Trevor got himself under control. He spoke without turning around. “Just trying to help, Dad.”
    Sam’s dad followed him down the short hall. Trevor threw himself on the bed and scooped up the book. Sam’s dad stood in the doorway and lit his pipe, blowing the smoke outside the room.
    â€œI’m going to make it, Sam, and when I do, I’ll make it because of me.”
    â€œDad, that’s how this town works. You take every opportunity you get. Who cares if Trevor Goldman had us blackballed? If he wants to help, we should let him. It’s McKenna Steele who’s really helping. I can’t believe you’re letting pride get in the way of Dark Cellar .”
    Sam’s dad puffed on his pipe, shrugged, and sighed. “You’ll understand one day, Sam.”
    Sam’s dad closed the door and Trevor heard his footsteps moving back down the hall. He put the book down and turned out the light, but his mind stayed awake. He felt for the bat bag in the corner of the room and removed the mitt.
    The glove felt like a natural part of his body. It fit perfectly and was as smooth as butter. He was determined to use it, and not just in tomorrow morning’s practice. He had to figure a way to get that script into Sam’s hands so that Sam could get working on the deal as Trevor Goldman. Once he got it going with Trevor’s agent and manager, things would be so exciting that Sam wouldn’t dream of switching back. Whatever happened after that—whether the movie got made or not—didn’t really matter. If Sam’s dad was too bullheaded to take the help, well, the world was full of fools.
    All Trevor had to do was get that script and have it delivered to McKenna, and he’d be set to play in Saturday’s game. If he was at home in Bel Air, he could give a job like that to Gabriel or Dolph or just dial up his agent, who’d come running. But as Sam Palomaki, he had no driver, no assistant, and certainly no agent.
    He’d have to think of something else.

24
SAM
    The only thing that kept Sam from running was the net. He stepped back.
    â€œStop pretending,” Trevor’s mom said. “I can’t stand it.”
    Sam said nothing.
    â€œYou should be in bed.” She spoke as if Sam had asked a question. “Baseball. Can you ever stop this? You have everything. Look.”
    She spun around, opening her arms in the direction of the huge mansion, before turning back to him. “Everything anyone could ever ask for. Everything that matters, but you want to play games. And you have to remind me of your obsession by banging around here after midnight when you’ve got work tomorrow.”
    She waited, and Sam knew she expected him to say something. He felt sure this was part of an ongoing argument and even considered a reply, but he just couldn’t.
    She raised her eyebrows. “No? Now you’re playing the part of a mute? You can’t talk? People think that’s an easy role to play, but we know you have to say things with your expressions, no words, and in fact it’s a difficult role. But look at you. What did Pierce Everette say? Beautiful. He’s right. I almost believe you’re scared and confused, but we both know, don’t we? Trevor .”
    Sam just stood.
    Her lips trembled. She huffed and threw her shoes into the bushes, then stamped off in her bare feet. Sam didn’t move for several minutes. Finally, he left the cage, taking small, quiet steps on his way back to Trevor’s bedroom. He paced the room until his eyes began to close, then lay down on the bed to fall asleep.
    Heavy knocking woke him. Sunlight spilled into the room.
    â€œMaster Trevor?” From the accent, Sam knew it was the butler. “Master