Soar by Joan Bauer

before you can put the new heart in, you have to take the old heart out.
    I’m thinking about this while Walt wraps a sheet halfway around me and fastens it at the shoulder. I’m playing Aristotle in Think About It Day at my school. One day a month a kid dresses up like a famous dead person and walks around school saying things that are supposed to make everyone think differently. Aristotle is a major ancient Greek who thought hard about everything.
    I adjust the fake beard Mr. Aronson gave me to wear. Walt and I look in the mirror together—two guys with beards.
    â€œI still don’t look like you, Walt.”
    â€œThe sheet doesn’t help, Jer.”
    Mr. Aronson and I reworked some of Aristotle’s sayings so kids could get the general idea and not be bored into oblivion. Jerwal rolls into the room and stops. I raise my right arm, let my voice go deep.
    â€œExcellence is formed in a person who works at being excellent.”
    Jerwal beeps.
    â€œI like that.” Walt scoops up SARB, who is stuck in the corner.
    I scratch under my beard and head toward the door. It’s not easy walking in a sheet.
    â—†Â â—†Â â—†
    Kids at school don’t connect to the sheet right off, and lots of them laugh when I stop in the hall, raise my arm, and say major things.
    â€œDignity does not come by having honors, but by deserving them.”
    â€œAll people are alike when they sleep.”
    In the cafeteria, I shout: “Happiness rocks!” That’s a very loose translation, but kids totally get the concept.
    Benchant pulls my beard. Logo calls out, “Way togo, Big A!” I nod wisely and try not to trip on my sheet.
    Mr. Aronson is beyond happy. “We’re shooting energy through this school. Good job, Jeremiah.”
    I feel the energy building. Donald Mole shows up to practice with two more players, Handro Corea and Roy Nader.
    â€œHandro should play second base,” Donald tells me.
    â€œBut you’re on second.”
    â€œHe’s better.”
    Handro runs on the field and starts throwing and catching. He’s so much better. Roy picks up a bat and Sky pitches to him. He’s got a power swing.
    â€œOkay, Donald, you and Roy are utility players. That means you’ll play different positions as we need you.” I slap his shoulder. “It’s awesome what you did.”
    â€œI want us to win.”
    We’ve now got twelve guys!
    A reporter from out of town comes to watch us practice. He has a little mustache and a lot of snark. “So what do you kids think of baseball now?”
    Everyone looks to me. I say, “Was it baseball that did this, sir, or people?”
    He has a fake smile. “So will you be playing baseball in school even after all that’s happened?”
    Terrell steps up. “As you can see, mister, we are playing baseball after all that’s happened! And we’re going to keep playing it.”
    â€œWhy?” the reporter demands.
    Terrell points a finger at him. “Because my grandpa always told me, giving up is stupid.”
    The reporter sits there.
    â€œYou should write down what he said,” I tell the man.
    â€œWhat’s the name of your team?”
    â€œThe Muskrats.” Terrell says it strong.
    The reporter turns to me. “And you are . . . ?”
    â€œHe’s our coach,” Donald says.
    â€œReally? Do you Muskrats have a captain?”
    We hadn’t thought about that. But most of the players look to Terrell, then back at me. “It’s Terrell if he’ll do it,” I say.
    A big cheer goes up. Terrell’s smiling. If we ever get new uniforms, maybe we should have GIVING UP IS STUPID written on the backs of our jerseys.
    There’s another message going around town: HONK IF YOU LOVE BASEBALL .
    I didn’t have anything to honk when I first saw it, so I shouted, “Yes!” I expected to hear a lot of honking, but there