1
M ARVIN bit his lip and mopped his damp forehead with a grimy handkerchief. His sister Jeannie, two years younger than he, scowled at him.
“What’re you afraid of? Go in there and ask them.”
“Ask who?” Marvin said.
He looked from her to the group of boys scattered on the ball field. They were practicing, just throwing the ball among themselves to limber up their muscles and get the feel of it. The sun was shining through a thin layer of cloud, with a lot of blue sky around it. Many of the boys wore short-sleeved jerseys.
Jeannie brushed a tangle of curly hair away from her eyes and pointed. “Ask that man there. Jim Cassell, He’s the captain or something, isn’t he?”
Marvin didn’t like to go and ask Jim Cassell. Jim might tell him to go home. He didn’t know Marvin, and Marvin didn’t know him. That was the trouble. Marvin hardly knew anybody here. They had just moved into the city.
“I think I’ll just go out there with those kids and see if they’ll throw a ball to me,” he said after thinking for a while. “That’ll be all right, won’t it?”
Jeannie nodded. “Go ahead. Maybe it’s the best way, anyway.”
Marvin felt pleased because he had figured that one out without anybody’s help. He started out at a slow run toward the scattered group of boys. They were all about his size, some a little smaller, some taller. Most of them had baseball gloves. He wished he had one. You didn’t look like a baseball player without a baseball glove.
All at once he heard Jim Cassell’s voice shout out to them. “Okay, boys! Spread out! A couple of you get in center field!”
The boys scampered into position. Marvin didn’t move. Jim Cassell was having the boys start batting practice. A tall, skinny kid stood on the mound. He pitched the ball twice. Each time the boy at bat swung at the ball and missed.
The third time he connected. Marvin heard the sharp crack! It was followed by a scramble of feet not far behind him. He looked up and sure enough the ball, like a small white pill, was curving through the air in his direction!
“I got it! I got it!” he cried. He forgot that he had no glove. His sneakers slipped on the short-cut grass as he tried to get in position under the ball.
Somebody bumped into him, but he didn’t give ground. “I got it!” he yelled again.
The ball came directly at him and he reached for it with both hands. The next instant it changed to a blur and he felt it slide through his hands and strike solidly against his chest.
His heart sank. Missed it!
“Nice catch!” a boy sneered. “Where did you learn how to play ball?”
Marvin gave him a cold look and shut his lips tight to keep his anger from spilling out. Another boy who had come running over stopped and threw darts with his eyes too.
“Who do you think you are, trying to catch a ball without a glove? Next time leave it alone,” he said.
Marvin looked at his bare hands, feeling his heart pound in his chest. He walked away, sticking his hands into his pockets. He could feel the hot sun burning his neck.
“Kid!” Jim Cassell’s voice yelled from across the field. “Hey, son!”
Marvin turned.
“For Petey sakes,” Jim said, “don’t try to catch a ball without a glove! You’ll get hurt!”
Marvin looked away, his lips still pressed tight together. “Come on,” he said to Jeannie. “Let’s go home.”
“Sure,” Jeannie replied in disgust. “You can do something else besides play baseball with those boys.”
“But I don’t want to do anything else!” Marvin said, angrily. “I want to play baseball!”
Then he looked up. A tall, dark-haired boy was watching him — a boy of high-school size, with broad shoulders. He seemed to be amused about something.
2
H ELLO,” said the high-school boy. “What’s the matter, fella? You look as if you’d lost your best friend!”
Marvin tried to smile, just to show that he wasn’t mad at everybody. “Nothing’s the matter,” he
M ARVIN bit his lip and mopped his damp forehead with a grimy handkerchief. His sister Jeannie, two years younger than he, scowled at him.
“What’re you afraid of? Go in there and ask them.”
“Ask who?” Marvin said.
He looked from her to the group of boys scattered on the ball field. They were practicing, just throwing the ball among themselves to limber up their muscles and get the feel of it. The sun was shining through a thin layer of cloud, with a lot of blue sky around it. Many of the boys wore short-sleeved jerseys.
Jeannie brushed a tangle of curly hair away from her eyes and pointed. “Ask that man there. Jim Cassell, He’s the captain or something, isn’t he?”
Marvin didn’t like to go and ask Jim Cassell. Jim might tell him to go home. He didn’t know Marvin, and Marvin didn’t know him. That was the trouble. Marvin hardly knew anybody here. They had just moved into the city.
“I think I’ll just go out there with those kids and see if they’ll throw a ball to me,” he said after thinking for a while. “That’ll be all right, won’t it?”
Jeannie nodded. “Go ahead. Maybe it’s the best way, anyway.”
Marvin felt pleased because he had figured that one out without anybody’s help. He started out at a slow run toward the scattered group of boys. They were all about his size, some a little smaller, some taller. Most of them had baseball gloves. He wished he had one. You didn’t look like a baseball player without a baseball glove.
All at once he heard Jim Cassell’s voice shout out to them. “Okay, boys! Spread out! A couple of you get in center field!”
The boys scampered into position. Marvin didn’t move. Jim Cassell was having the boys start batting practice. A tall, skinny kid stood on the mound. He pitched the ball twice. Each time the boy at bat swung at the ball and missed.
The third time he connected. Marvin heard the sharp crack! It was followed by a scramble of feet not far behind him. He looked up and sure enough the ball, like a small white pill, was curving through the air in his direction!
“I got it! I got it!” he cried. He forgot that he had no glove. His sneakers slipped on the short-cut grass as he tried to get in position under the ball.
Somebody bumped into him, but he didn’t give ground. “I got it!” he yelled again.
The ball came directly at him and he reached for it with both hands. The next instant it changed to a blur and he felt it slide through his hands and strike solidly against his chest.
His heart sank. Missed it!
“Nice catch!” a boy sneered. “Where did you learn how to play ball?”
Marvin gave him a cold look and shut his lips tight to keep his anger from spilling out. Another boy who had come running over stopped and threw darts with his eyes too.
“Who do you think you are, trying to catch a ball without a glove? Next time leave it alone,” he said.
Marvin looked at his bare hands, feeling his heart pound in his chest. He walked away, sticking his hands into his pockets. He could feel the hot sun burning his neck.
“Kid!” Jim Cassell’s voice yelled from across the field. “Hey, son!”
Marvin turned.
“For Petey sakes,” Jim said, “don’t try to catch a ball without a glove! You’ll get hurt!”
Marvin looked away, his lips still pressed tight together. “Come on,” he said to Jeannie. “Let’s go home.”
“Sure,” Jeannie replied in disgust. “You can do something else besides play baseball with those boys.”
“But I don’t want to do anything else!” Marvin said, angrily. “I want to play baseball!”
Then he looked up. A tall, dark-haired boy was watching him — a boy of high-school size, with broad shoulders. He seemed to be amused about something.
2
H ELLO,” said the high-school boy. “What’s the matter, fella? You look as if you’d lost your best friend!”
Marvin tried to smile, just to show that he wasn’t mad at everybody. “Nothing’s the matter,” he
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