Baseball Great by Tim Green Page B

Josh’s sister to calm her as she paced the kitchen floor.
    â€œYou sound mad about it,” Josh said, shoveling in another mouthful of cereal.
    â€œI’m not mad,” his mother said, replacing his sister in her high chair and peeling a banana to give her. “I just want to make sure you’ve got your priorities straight. All this baseball is fine, but you need to do well in school. That’s what matters. Your father turned your alarm off, but I put it back on so you wouldn’t be late.”
    Josh shrugged, gulped down a glass of juice, and said, “Okay.”
    â€œBecause that’s what matters,” she said as if he’d contradicted her. “Look at your father. He was a first-round draft pick. Now he’s working for Rocky Valentine.”
    â€œWhat’s wrong with Coach Valentine?” Josh asked.
    His mother cleared some dirty dishes off the table and began banging them around in the sink.
    â€œI didn’t say anythinig was,” his mother said, clattering a spoon into a bowl. “He’s fine. I’m sure he’s a good coach. Obviously. But he’s an operator and not the kind of person you want to have to work for.”
    â€œWhat do you mean, ‘an operator’?” Josh asked.
    â€œAre you done yet?” his mother asked, glancing up at the clock. “It’s time.”
    Josh jumped up from the table, put his things together, kissed his little sister and his mom, and dashed out the door. When he stepped onto the bus he saw Jaden sitting in the second seat. Josh always sat inthe front row for several reasons. First, no one wanted the front seat, so he never had to argue about it. Second, he sometimes got carsick in the back. Third, the opportunity for trouble of any kind was reduced to zero if the person right beside you was Mrs. Wamp, the bus driver. He didn’t relish sitting right in front of Jaden, but he wasn’t going to give up the comfort of the front.
    Avoiding her eyes, he took his seat. The bus doors hissed and banged shut. The gears ground and off they went. Before the next stop, Josh felt a tap on his shoulder. He looked back. Jaden didn’t look at him, but she dumped the folded sports section of the morning paper over the back of his seat and into his lap.
    â€œCongratulations,” she said, speaking the words as though someone were jamming a spoonful of nasty medicine into her mouth at the same time.
    Josh sat looking forward. His fingers closed around the paper and he tapped it lightly against his other hand, thinking. Finally, without turning, he said, “Thanks.”
    Josh couldn’t help smiling to himself the whole ride to school. Every other person who got on flashed their eyes his way, offering up a knowing nod that told him they, too, had seen the big sports page and his picture. When the bus finally pulled up in front of Grant Middle, Josh almost waited for Jaden to catch up to him. Something about Jaden tugged at him the way a campfire drew him close on a dark night in the woods,and he felt as if the newspaper was a peace offering and that she’d talk to him again.
    But when Josh turned, Jaden didn’t get off the bus after he did. He saw her sitting there with her arms crossed as if she was mad that he hadn’t shown more appreciation for her congratulations. So Josh shrugged and headed for his locker, where Benji stood, bouncing on his toes.
    â€œHey, dude,” Benji said.
    Josh just looked at him, then spun the dial on his lock.
    â€œCongrats, my man,” Benji said, patting Josh on the back. “Front page of the sports section. I had breakfast at Denny’s with my dad this morning. He said you’re on your way. His exact words. What do you think about that, huh?”
    Benji’s dad worked on the line at a plastics factory, but he also played for the Salt City Express, Syracuse’s semi-pro football team. Even though Benji’s dad lived on the other