Mickey & Me by Dan Gutman Page A

tie game when the Chicks came to bat in the bottom of the ninth. I had been playing patty-cake with some little kids in the stands, but returned to the dugout in time to watch the game.
    Chicks first baseman Dolores Klosowski was the leadoff batter. She was a lefty, and the Peach defense shifted to the right accordingly.
    With the count at 2-2, Dolores slapped a grounder to the left side of the infield. The third baseman bobbled the ball for a moment. Dolores, seeing she had a chance to make it to first safely, lunged for the bag as the first baseman reached for the throw.
    Her left foot slipped as she touched first, and Dolores tried to brace herself with her other leg. But she was moving too fast. I could see her leg was bent at a weird angle as she tumbled in a heap just pastfirst base. There was a sick-sounding crack.
    â€œSafe!” called the ump.
    â€œOwwwww!” Dolores cried, writhing on the ground, holding her leg.
    We all rushed out of the Chicks dugout behind Max Carey, who had picked up the first aid kit the instant Dolores hit the dirt.
    â€œGive her room!” he screamed. “Call a doctor! Her leg may be broken.”
    Dolores was on her side, tears and makeup streaming down her face. The umpire looked on with sympathy.
    â€œIf it’s dislocated, I know how to snap it back in place,” Connie volunteered.
    â€œTouch that leg and you’re dead!” Dolores shouted through the pain.
    â€œGet a stretcher,” Max Carey ordered, “and an ambulance. That bone is broken.”
    The Chicks carried Dolores back to the locker room. The ump gave Carey a five-minute injury time-out. In the distance, an ambulance siren was already wailing. A couple of the girls held Dolores’s hands and tried to comfort her.
    â€œWho’s gonna play first base in the tenth inning?” Mickey asked Max Carey.
    â€œIf we can score a run,” he replied, “we won’t need a first baseman. There won’t be a tenth inning.”
    â€œYeah, but we need a pinch runner for Dolores right now.”
    Max Carey looked around the locker room. Hehad used all his players. His gaze fell on me.
    â€œHey, Josephine,” he said. “Can you run fast?”
    â€œYeah,” I replied.
    â€œYou know how to slide?”
    â€œSure. Why?”
    â€œI want you to go in there and run for Dolores.”
    â€œWhat are you, crazy?” I said, backing into the corner. “I’m a guy.”
    â€œSo what?” Mickey said. “You don’t have to hit. You don’t have to play the field. Just run the bases. Don’t worry, we’ll drive you in.”
    â€œTh-this is ridiculous!” I stammered. “Everyone will know right away I’m not a girl.”
    â€œNo they won’t,” Mickey insisted. “I’ve got an extra uniform. We’re about the same size. With a cap on—”
    â€œI’m not putting on a dress!” I protested.
    â€œIt’s not a dress,” Connie informed me. “It’s a skirt.”
    I wasn’t sure what was the difference between a dress and a skirt. But I knew they were both worn by women, and there was no way I was going to put on women’s clothes.
    â€œMale bagpipers wear skirts all the time,” Doris Tetzlaff pointed out.
    â€œI don’t play bagpipes!” I shouted.
    â€œDon’t be such a baby,” Tiby said. “Look, you already dressed up like a chicken. What’s the big deal?”
    â€œWe don’t have anyone else,” Max Carey said. “If we don’t produce a pinch runner in three minutes,we have to forfeit the game, girls.”
    All of them looked at me, with big eyes and pleading puppy dog faces.
    â€œI won’t do it!” I insisted. “And that’s final!”
    â€œCome on, be a man about it,” Mickey pleaded. “Put on the skirt.”
    That’s when they grabbed me. The entire team—with the exception of Dolores