Free Wall Ball by Kevin Markey Page A

and handed the pair to Orlando. “Try them on,” he said. “I stuffed newspaper in the toes so they’ll fit better.”
    Orlando sat down in the snow and pulled off his boots. He laced up the golf shoes.
    “Not bad,” he said, standing. He shuffled his feet. The shoes scratched loudly, like a cat sharpening its claws. “They really grip,” he said.
    “Good!” said Slingshot. “Then let’s getstarted. To the summit!”
    Orlando craned his neck and gazed up the steep slope of Mount Rambletown. “You want me to climb that thing?” he asked uncertainly.
    “Name a better place to test the shoes,” Slingshot said. “If they work here, they’ll work anywhere. Including Rambletown Field.”
    “When you get to the top”—Stump grinned, reaching into his duffel—“plant this in the snow.” He whipped out what looked like the world’s largest roll of aluminum foil. Slingshot took one end and helped Stump unfurl it. The shimmering silver material opened up to the size of King Kong’s bedsheet. Stitched to it in big block letters cut out of red felt were the words GO ROUNDERS! BEAT HOG CITY!
    At that we all cheered like crazy.
    “We made it out of a special kind of foil called Mylar,” Stump said proudly. “Slingshot’s idea. Lightweight and completely weatherproof.”
    “And big enough to see from halfway across the state,” added Slingshot.
    We were still clapping and chanting “Go Rounders, Go!” as Orlando started his ascent.

CHAPTER 17
    S lowly, carefully, Orlando tested the sticking power of Slingshot’s sandpaper golf shoes. He stomped down one foot to dig the spikes into the snow. Then he stomped down the other. The shoes held, and he took another cautious half step up the steep mountain. Each time he repeated the process, his confidence built and he increased his pace. Soon he was really chugging along, his movements crisp and machinelike.
    “That’s the way, Orlando!” I hollered. “Steady as she goes!”
    Up and up he climbed, like a fly walking straight up a wall. The higher he went, thesmaller he got. Before long, we could make out nothing more than his red hat bobbing ever upward against a solid white background. Then Orlando disappeared altogether. We watched from way down below, our hearts pounding. All we could hear was the rush of wind across the jagged peak.
    I glanced at Slingshot and saw his face turn whiter than the snow. I knew that he’d never forgive himself if something went wrong.
    None of us would.
    We held our breaths. Time seemed to stand still. Suddenly the hat reappeared higher up the slope, still moving, still gaining.
    “He’s going to make it!” roared Ocho. “The kid from Florida is going to conquer this frozen wonder of the world!”
    The color returned to Slingshot’s face.
    We smacked high fives and bumped chests. We jumped up and down as if the ground was made of rubber. Mr. Bones ran around, licking faces wherever he could reach them. None ofus could stop shouting. I felt happier than the day we’d won the pennant.
    Orlando reached the huddled presidents and did not pause. He scaled the bridge of FDR’s nose and pulled himself to his full height atop the old guy’s enormous head.
    We cheered like crazy, and then roared even louder as he unfurled the huge, shimmering banner at the very summit of Mount Rambletown. Even at that great distance, its enormous red letters stood out boldly:
    GO ROUNDERS! BEAT HOG CITY!
    “He did it.” Slingshot laughed. “He really did it!”
    “A million small steps for a Rounder, one giant leap for Rounderkind,” Stump crowed.
    “Giant leap is right!” said Tugboat. “The outfield will be a cakewalk after this. I can’t wait to see the look on Flicker Pringle’s face the first time Orlando runs down one of his long balls at the wall. The Haymakers don’t stand a chance!”
    The silver banner caught the afternoon sun and glowed like a lighthouse. Tugboat slipped on a pair of shades. “Cool,” he marveled.