Free Safe at Home by Mike Lupica Page B

the varsity field.
    But then he heard the splash and the huge cheer that followed.
    Nick couldn’t help himself. He turned around and saw that Gracie had hit the target and put Mr. Dodds in the water.

TEN
    “What the heck happened back there?” Gracie said when she finally caught up with him near the Frogtown Road entrance to the school, where her mom was supposed to pick them up.
    “You saw what happened,” Nick said. “I froze.”
    “I get that part,” Gracie said, lowering her voice even though there was no one else around. “What I don’t get is why.”
    “I was
afraid
,” Nick said. “Afraid I couldn’t even make a dumb little throw like that.”
    Gracie wasn’t about to drop it. “Because the other guys on the team showed up?”
    Nick said he didn’t want to talk about it anymore. And he didn’t, just stood there in silence with Gracie, waiting for her mom to pick them up. Heknew how hard it was for Gracie not to talk about something when she really wanted to, or when she wanted to fix things for Nick. But even she was quiet now, and on the ride home.
    When they were both out of the car and Nick was walking down the Wrights’ driveway, all she said was, “Talk to you later.”
    Nick didn’t turn around, just waved and kept going.
    Paul and Brenda Crandall were watching a movie in the living room when Nick came in. He wanted to break all known speed records for getting through the front hall and up the stairs to his room, but his mom turned around as soon as she heard him, wearing the same big smile she gave him every time he came through that door.
    Like she’d been saving up smiles like this her whole life.
    “Hey, you,” she said.
    “Hey.” Halfway up the stairs already.
    “Have fun at the fair?” he heard from behind him.
    “Yeah.”
    “I know this is probably a dumb question, afteran afternoon of junky fair food, but are you hungry? I’m going out in a little while, but I could fix you something right now if you want.”
    “No thanks.” All the way at the top of the stairs now.
    Closing the door behind him.
    Trying to do what he had done behind closed doors just like this one a lot in his life: hope that tomorrow would be better.
    Only right now, Nick couldn’t make himself believe that, no matter how hard he tried.
    He was quieter that night at dinner than he had been on all the other nights since baseball season had started. Or maybe dinner was quieter than usual because it was just his dad and him. His mom had left a few minutes ago for a book club meeting.
    Finally his dad said, “Nick, is there something bothering you?”
    Nick, keeping his head good and low over his food, said, “I’m fine.”
    Paul Crandall said, “Well, you don’t act as if you’re fine. Did something happen at the fair?”
    Now Nick looked up. He could see his dad really wanted to know. But what good would it do to tell him the truth? Nick wasn’t even sure a
baseball
dad would have been able to understand—or explain—what had really happened in front of that dunking booth today.
    “It was nothing,” Nick said, just managing to stop himself before he added “that you’d understand.”
    “Sounds like something to me.”
    Nick knew he wasn’t going to get away with the silent treatment this time. So, knowing he wasn’t telling it very well, he ran through the story as fast as he’d run away from that dunking booth.
    The faster he talked, the less chance there was for him to start crying. That’s the way he looked at it.
    When Nick finished, his dad just sat there.
    Paul Crandall said, “But it was just some silly game at the fair. Not a real one.”
    “That’s just it,” Nick said. “It
felt
like one,” then added, “because a lot of the guys from the team were there. All week long they’d seen me make bad throws, and now with them all standing there, I couldn’t make
any
kind of throw.”
    “But you’re a wonderful thrower,” his dad said. “I’ve seen it myself. I realize