sorry! I'm sorry!" Dawn and Mary Anne cried.
"I'm sorrier!" That was Buddy. He and I and a whole group of kids had run over to Shannon.
"Are you all right?" everyone kept asking.
"I think so," Shannon replied, patting her head cautiously. (This is why we play so/fball.)
"Are you really all right?" asked Buddy anxiously.
"Yes, I really am." Shannon smiled at Buddy, and he looked back at her with what can only be called love.
Bart had run over to us by this time, along with some of his teammates.
"Are you okay, Shannon?" he asked, genuinely concerned. (Shannon was rubbing her head, even though she was smiling at Buddy.)
Shannon did not answer Bart. She didn't even look at him. (Neither did Mary Anne nor Dawn. I had a feeling Shannon had told them
her suspicions about Bart.) And I focused on Shannon, feeling only mildly sorry for Bart.
When Shannon had convinced us that she truly was fine (or was going to be) and had even asked to keep the ball with which she'd been hit, the collected Krushers and Bashers finally returned to their game. Buddy lingered for a moment, though, received another smile from Shannon, then ran to catch up with his team.
The rest of the game went about the same way as the first inning. The Krushers simply were not a match for the Bashers- that day, no matter how hard they tried, and no matter how loudly the cheerleaders shouted. In the end, the Bashers beat the Krushers 10-1, and that one run was suspect, but the Bashers "gave" it to us, since they already had eight runs at the time and the game was nearing its end.
When the game was over, Bart trotted up to me and said, "Good game, Kristy. You coached your kids well."
I glared at him. How could he try to psyche me out, then be so nice to me? Bart looked confused, but I pretended not to notice, and when he asked if he could walk me home, I thanked him but said I was busy. Then I joined Shannon, Dawn, and Mary Anne.
They were talking about Bart and the letters.
"Maybe," Dawn began, "he's not trying to psyche you out for the World Series. Maybe he's mad at you because of that fight you two had over how the series should be played. The weird letters started after the fight, didn't they?"
I nodded.
"And you know how boys hold grudges," said Shannon, sounding wise.
I shrugged. "Either way, what he's doing is crummy."
My friends agreed.
Then I had to leave. I had to help the Krush-ers with their equipment, see that everyone got picked up, and finally help Charlie load our car. He drove Karen, Andrew, David Michael, and me home, and I tried not to feel too depressed.
What had I gotten myself into? I was still supposed to go to the Halloween Hop with Bart, and Bart was either crazy or mean. (// he was the note writer. If he wasn't, I didn't want to think about who was.) Anyway, I had to decide whether to un-invite Bart to the dance.
Later, I was in the middle of figuring out how to do that, not having had much experience with boys, when our phone rang. Of course, it was Bart. Great.
I didn't even bother to sneak into the closet with the cordless phone. I just took the receiver from Mom, who had answered the extension in the kitchen and said, "Hi, Bart. I'm sorry but I can't talk to you now," and hung up.
As I returned the receiver to the cradle, I could hear him saying, "Hey, Kristy," but I didn't feel too bad. Not when I thought about his notes.
However, it took me a long time to fall asleep that night.
Chapter 10.
When Mary Anne arrived at the Barretts', she found them organized, for once. Or maybe they're generally more organized now. Anyway, they were a far cry from the way Dawn Schafer used to find them when she first began sitting for them. The children were dressed and set for softball practice, Mrs. Barrett was ready to leave but wasn't in one of her mad dashes, their house was tidy, and Pow the dog had even been walked.
"Good-bye, you three," said Mrs. Barrett when she'd put on her coat. She kissed Buddy (who's eight), Suzi
"I'm sorrier!" That was Buddy. He and I and a whole group of kids had run over to Shannon.
"Are you all right?" everyone kept asking.
"I think so," Shannon replied, patting her head cautiously. (This is why we play so/fball.)
"Are you really all right?" asked Buddy anxiously.
"Yes, I really am." Shannon smiled at Buddy, and he looked back at her with what can only be called love.
Bart had run over to us by this time, along with some of his teammates.
"Are you okay, Shannon?" he asked, genuinely concerned. (Shannon was rubbing her head, even though she was smiling at Buddy.)
Shannon did not answer Bart. She didn't even look at him. (Neither did Mary Anne nor Dawn. I had a feeling Shannon had told them
her suspicions about Bart.) And I focused on Shannon, feeling only mildly sorry for Bart.
When Shannon had convinced us that she truly was fine (or was going to be) and had even asked to keep the ball with which she'd been hit, the collected Krushers and Bashers finally returned to their game. Buddy lingered for a moment, though, received another smile from Shannon, then ran to catch up with his team.
The rest of the game went about the same way as the first inning. The Krushers simply were not a match for the Bashers- that day, no matter how hard they tried, and no matter how loudly the cheerleaders shouted. In the end, the Bashers beat the Krushers 10-1, and that one run was suspect, but the Bashers "gave" it to us, since they already had eight runs at the time and the game was nearing its end.
When the game was over, Bart trotted up to me and said, "Good game, Kristy. You coached your kids well."
I glared at him. How could he try to psyche me out, then be so nice to me? Bart looked confused, but I pretended not to notice, and when he asked if he could walk me home, I thanked him but said I was busy. Then I joined Shannon, Dawn, and Mary Anne.
They were talking about Bart and the letters.
"Maybe," Dawn began, "he's not trying to psyche you out for the World Series. Maybe he's mad at you because of that fight you two had over how the series should be played. The weird letters started after the fight, didn't they?"
I nodded.
"And you know how boys hold grudges," said Shannon, sounding wise.
I shrugged. "Either way, what he's doing is crummy."
My friends agreed.
Then I had to leave. I had to help the Krush-ers with their equipment, see that everyone got picked up, and finally help Charlie load our car. He drove Karen, Andrew, David Michael, and me home, and I tried not to feel too depressed.
What had I gotten myself into? I was still supposed to go to the Halloween Hop with Bart, and Bart was either crazy or mean. (// he was the note writer. If he wasn't, I didn't want to think about who was.) Anyway, I had to decide whether to un-invite Bart to the dance.
Later, I was in the middle of figuring out how to do that, not having had much experience with boys, when our phone rang. Of course, it was Bart. Great.
I didn't even bother to sneak into the closet with the cordless phone. I just took the receiver from Mom, who had answered the extension in the kitchen and said, "Hi, Bart. I'm sorry but I can't talk to you now," and hung up.
As I returned the receiver to the cradle, I could hear him saying, "Hey, Kristy," but I didn't feel too bad. Not when I thought about his notes.
However, it took me a long time to fall asleep that night.
Chapter 10.
When Mary Anne arrived at the Barretts', she found them organized, for once. Or maybe they're generally more organized now. Anyway, they were a far cry from the way Dawn Schafer used to find them when she first began sitting for them. The children were dressed and set for softball practice, Mrs. Barrett was ready to leave but wasn't in one of her mad dashes, their house was tidy, and Pow the dog had even been walked.
"Good-bye, you three," said Mrs. Barrett when she'd put on her coat. She kissed Buddy (who's eight), Suzi
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