mood.”
He slid down the seat to make more room for Adam. “Hey, now that you’re on the team,” he said, “you get to sit with your teammates.”
“I’m on the Red Sox?” Adam asked. “Awesome. I have to text my mom.” He pulled his phone from his back pocket.
“Didn’t Coach Sanders call you last night?” Ryan asked, sounding surprised.
Adam started tapping the keys on his phone. “Maybe he called my dad. I was at my mom’s last night,” he said, still tapping.
Jake reached into his backpack and pulled out a piece of paper. “You’re definitely on the team,” he said. “Here’s the roster. They posted it on the league website this morning.”
The boys checked out the list of names as the bus pulled away from the school.
RED SOX
Manager: Mr. Philip Sanders
Player:
Age:
Samuel Curtis
12
Jacob Daley
12
Ryan Duckett
12
Adam Hull
12
Hannah Roberts
12
Isaiah Slater
12
Khalil Williams
12
Kyle Kim
11
Alex Morales
11
Christopher Morgan
11
Michael Rios
11
Evan Sherman
11
Julian Jackson-Davis
10
Mack Radecki
10
“I don’t know these kids,” Adam said. “Can any of them play?”
“Sure,” Jake said. “Let’s see. Isaiah Slater is a really good hitter and he can pitch too. Evan Sherman can catch. Hannah’s good, Sam pitches—”
“And Jake will play shortstop,” Ryan interrupted.
“What was your record last year?” Adam asked.
“Five wins and nine losses.”
Adam gave Jake a look that showed he wasn’t very impressed.
“We lost a lot of close games,” Jake added quickly. “We’ll be tons better this year.”
He looked out the window. The bus was getting closer to Adam’s stop. “Hey, Adam, why don’t you come over to my house? Ryan will be there too. We can play Wiffle ball in my backyard.”
“Um, sure. Let me text my mom again.”
A few minutes later, the three teammates were dashing through the Daleys’ front door. “Hey, Dad, I’m home!” Jake shouted as he entered.
“I’m in my office,” Mr. Daley called back. The boys dumped their backpacks on the living room floor and headed downstairs. Jake’s father was at his computer, typing quickly. “I left you some chips and dip in the kitchen,” he said without looking up.
“Me, Ryan, and Adam are going to play Wiffle ball in the backyard.”
With that, Mr. Daley looked up from his computer and laughed. “Sorry about my bad manners. I just was finishing up an e-mail. How are you, Ryan?” Then he turned toward Adam. “I don’t think we’ve met.”
“I’m Adam.”
“He lives over on Lewis,” Jake said. “He’s gonna be on the Red Sox this season.”
“Oh, right. I saw your name on the roster this morning.”
Jake looked over at Adam. “My dad’s one of the assistant coaches,” he said.
“I hear that you’re quite a player, Adam,” Mr. Daley said. “Maybe you can help the Red Sox win a few more games.”
“Oh, he’ll help,” Ryan said. “A lot.”
“Do your parents know you’re here?” Mr. Daley asked as the boys started back upstairs.
“Yeah,” Ryan replied.
“Yeah, my mom said it was okay,” Adam said over his shoulder.
Outside in the bright afternoon sunshine, Jake explained to Adam how he and Ryan played Wiffle ball in his backyard. “Agrounder that gets past both fielders is a single; a fly ball that lands past the bush is a double; anything over the fence is a home run.”
“Let’s hit with a regular bat,” Adam suggested as he picked up a metal bat from a pile of sports equipment.
“It’s a lot easier to hit with the plastic bat,” Ryan said.
“That’s why the metal bat is better practice,” Adam said. “We won’t hit with a plastic bat during the season, right?”
“Okay, we can hit with the regular bat,” Jake agreed. “I’ll pitch first. Adam, you hit. Ryan, you’re out in the field. We’ll switch after every three outs.”
The boys took their positions, with Adam standing in the batter’s box near the back of the house. A Frisbee was
He slid down the seat to make more room for Adam. “Hey, now that you’re on the team,” he said, “you get to sit with your teammates.”
“I’m on the Red Sox?” Adam asked. “Awesome. I have to text my mom.” He pulled his phone from his back pocket.
“Didn’t Coach Sanders call you last night?” Ryan asked, sounding surprised.
Adam started tapping the keys on his phone. “Maybe he called my dad. I was at my mom’s last night,” he said, still tapping.
Jake reached into his backpack and pulled out a piece of paper. “You’re definitely on the team,” he said. “Here’s the roster. They posted it on the league website this morning.”
The boys checked out the list of names as the bus pulled away from the school.
RED SOX
Manager: Mr. Philip Sanders
Player:
Age:
Samuel Curtis
12
Jacob Daley
12
Ryan Duckett
12
Adam Hull
12
Hannah Roberts
12
Isaiah Slater
12
Khalil Williams
12
Kyle Kim
11
Alex Morales
11
Christopher Morgan
11
Michael Rios
11
Evan Sherman
11
Julian Jackson-Davis
10
Mack Radecki
10
“I don’t know these kids,” Adam said. “Can any of them play?”
“Sure,” Jake said. “Let’s see. Isaiah Slater is a really good hitter and he can pitch too. Evan Sherman can catch. Hannah’s good, Sam pitches—”
“And Jake will play shortstop,” Ryan interrupted.
“What was your record last year?” Adam asked.
“Five wins and nine losses.”
Adam gave Jake a look that showed he wasn’t very impressed.
“We lost a lot of close games,” Jake added quickly. “We’ll be tons better this year.”
He looked out the window. The bus was getting closer to Adam’s stop. “Hey, Adam, why don’t you come over to my house? Ryan will be there too. We can play Wiffle ball in my backyard.”
“Um, sure. Let me text my mom again.”
A few minutes later, the three teammates were dashing through the Daleys’ front door. “Hey, Dad, I’m home!” Jake shouted as he entered.
“I’m in my office,” Mr. Daley called back. The boys dumped their backpacks on the living room floor and headed downstairs. Jake’s father was at his computer, typing quickly. “I left you some chips and dip in the kitchen,” he said without looking up.
“Me, Ryan, and Adam are going to play Wiffle ball in the backyard.”
With that, Mr. Daley looked up from his computer and laughed. “Sorry about my bad manners. I just was finishing up an e-mail. How are you, Ryan?” Then he turned toward Adam. “I don’t think we’ve met.”
“I’m Adam.”
“He lives over on Lewis,” Jake said. “He’s gonna be on the Red Sox this season.”
“Oh, right. I saw your name on the roster this morning.”
Jake looked over at Adam. “My dad’s one of the assistant coaches,” he said.
“I hear that you’re quite a player, Adam,” Mr. Daley said. “Maybe you can help the Red Sox win a few more games.”
“Oh, he’ll help,” Ryan said. “A lot.”
“Do your parents know you’re here?” Mr. Daley asked as the boys started back upstairs.
“Yeah,” Ryan replied.
“Yeah, my mom said it was okay,” Adam said over his shoulder.
Outside in the bright afternoon sunshine, Jake explained to Adam how he and Ryan played Wiffle ball in his backyard. “Agrounder that gets past both fielders is a single; a fly ball that lands past the bush is a double; anything over the fence is a home run.”
“Let’s hit with a regular bat,” Adam suggested as he picked up a metal bat from a pile of sports equipment.
“It’s a lot easier to hit with the plastic bat,” Ryan said.
“That’s why the metal bat is better practice,” Adam said. “We won’t hit with a plastic bat during the season, right?”
“Okay, we can hit with the regular bat,” Jake agreed. “I’ll pitch first. Adam, you hit. Ryan, you’re out in the field. We’ll switch after every three outs.”
The boys took their positions, with Adam standing in the batter’s box near the back of the house. A Frisbee was
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