Mudville by Kurtis Scaletta Page B

everybody in.
    David rolls his eyes at me, but Anthony kind of gives him a look that says, “Cool it,” and he does. We huddle around where the mound ought to be.
    “First off,” I say, “no more throwing beanballs or names.” I remember how authoritatively Frank said practically those same words at the work site, but I don't get the same results.
    “You ain't the boss of me,” Anthony grumbles.
    “What are you going to do about it anyway?” David wants to know.
    “Kick you off the team.”
    “It's not
your team,”
he says. “It's not even
a
team, really.”
    “Second of all,” I continue, “Sturgis is right. You aren't really practicing. You're just waiting for your turn to bat and not trying to play defense.” I think P.J. set a bad example when he was here.
    Miggy shakes his head, and Carlos shakes his head in imitation.
    “Who died and made you coach?” David complains.
    “He's not the coach, he's the team captain,” says Steve.
    “Since when?”
    “Since he should be.”
    “For one thing, he actually knows how to play the game,” says Sturgis.
    “I know how to play, too,” David mutters. “It's not that hard.”
    “Let's vote,” says Kazuo seriously. “Baseball captains should be elected by the team.”
    “He's right,” I agree.
    “I'll nominate him,” says Steve.
    “Me too,” says Sturgis. “What's more, if you nimrods don't vote for him, I'm walking off right now.”
    “I nominate nobody.” David kicks at the infield dirt. “I don't want a captain.”
    “Me too,” says Miggy. “I just want to have fun, not get bossed around.”
    “Me too,” says Carlos.
    “All in favor of Roy as captain?” asks Steve.
    I don't like to vote for myself, but I know the numbers. Iraise my hand, and so do Steve, Sturgis, and Kazuo. David glares at Kazuo, who's supposed to be his best friend.
    “I just want us to be good,” Kazuo explains.
    “All opposed?” Steve asks. David raises his hand, and so do Miggy and Carlos. Slowly, Anthony raises his own hand in agreement.
    “I guess we don't have a captain,” says David. “It's a tie. You need a majority.” At first I wish PJ. were still around to break the tie, but then, he'd probably vote against me.
    “This is stupid,” says Sturgis. “Go form your own team, you little snots. We don't need you dragging us down any-way.”
    “Take it easy, Sturgis,” I say. I don't want the team to break up before we even have a full practice.
    “Hey,” says Steve, pointing. “We have some new play-ers.”
    “Girls.” David rolls his eyes.
    That tall girl with brown hair I saw at the gym and again on the Fourth of July is walking across the field, carrying a new glove. With her—a little bit behind her, so I don't see her at first—is Rita. I feel a thrill go through me. She's even cuter than I remember.
    “I heard you were getting a baseball team together,” says the tall girl.
    I suddenly realize why she looks familiar. I've seen her on TV. She won some state tennis thing this spring.
    “You're Shannon, right?”
    “Right. We were wondering if you need any more players.”
    “Actually, we could use a good center fielder.” I think about how she ran all over the tennis court, getting to every-thing, and my hopes for the defense pick up.
    “I'm Rita,” Rita tells me, not knowing I've had her name bouncing around in my head for the last two weeks. “I've never played baseball,” she says apologetically. “I'd like to try, though.”
    “She's a good tennis player, too,” Shannon adds.
    “Says the girl who currently has an eighty-to-one record against me!” Rita protests.
    “Hey, you beat me once,” says Shannon. “That's more than my brother can say.”
    “We're happy to give you a tryout,” I tell them, or mean to say, but I think I switch a couple of words around. “By the way, I'm Roy,” I add (or maybe “By the Roy, I'm way”), and I go around the mound to introduce everyone else.
    “Hey,” Steve asks them, “how