Pinch Hit by Tim Green Page A

lives as they could, from the boring everyday routines to the more fabulous events, like when Trevor met the Dalai Lama or when Sam’s father won a baseball mitt signed by Sandy Koufax at a Hollywood charity fundraiser that he’d emptied his savings account to attend.
    â€œLet me ask you something,” Trevor said. “What bothers you about your dad?”
    Sam shrugged. “Nothing, really.”
    â€œI don’t mean anything bad. Is there something you nag him about? Something he does that you can’t stand?”
    â€œI guess I’m always trying to get him to eat,” Sam said. “He’s pretty skinny and his mind is working all the time, and I think sometimes he just forgets to eat.”
    â€œGood,” Trevor said. “Where?”
    â€œWhere to eat? I don’t know. Anywhere.”
    â€œWhere do you like to go?” Trevor asked.
    â€œIn and Out Burger, all the way.”
    â€œChocolate shake? Well-done fries?”
    â€œHow’d you know?” Sam asked.
    â€œA hunch.”
    While Sam wanted to know about the routine of a star on the set, Trevor couldn’t get enough about baseball and Sam’s team, the Blue Sox.
    That’s how Trevor found out about Dorian Klum.
    â€œHe’s a big lug is what he is,” Sam said through his food. “But he’s a good player. Don’t pay any attention to him. He likes to give me grief, me and everyone else, especially when you make a mistake.”
    â€œThe coaches don’t stop him?” Trevor asked, already thinking of the business he’d like to give to Klum.
    â€œHe’s pretty sneaky about it.” Sam stabbed the last piece of his steak, stuffed it into his mouth, and chewed.
    â€œAnd, you said the USC Elite thing is between you and him?” Trevor asked.
    â€œThat’s what everyone thinks. Klum and I are the best players on the team.”
    â€œYou’re that good?” Trevor couldn’t help admiring his twin.
    Sam swallowed his food. “Better than Klum, too, but not by much. That’s why we’ve got to make the switch before the finals. I’ve got to be the one those USC scouts see.”
    â€œI told you. I’m good.” Trevor made a fist and thumped his chest.
    â€œEven if you are, I can’t take the chance. USC is everything to me.”
    â€œDon’t worry,” Trevor said. “I get it. I wouldn’t do that to you, and I won’t forget what you’re doing for me, I promise.”
    â€œMe, too.” Sam drank some Gatorade from his glass and rattled the ice. “If Dark Cellar gets made? I’ll be having you guys over for dinner by my pool.”
    â€œIt’s a deal,” Trevor said.
    Sam gave him a quizzical look and Trevor realized he was staring. “Sorry, it’s just that I can’t get over it. You know how they say that when you die you float outside yourself? It’s like I’m afraid I’m dying and I’m seeing myself before I go.”
    â€œNo,” McKenna said, punching Trevor’s shoulder, “you’re still here. Let’s put on the finishing touches. I can still tell you two apart pretty easily.”
    McKenna led them upstairs to her room. Trevor saw Sam’s eyes go wide at the sight of the room that looked like it belonged to a fairy-tale princess. In its center on a raised platform sat a huge four-poster bed with a red silk canopy. McKenna pulled out the chair at her dressing table by the window and looked at Trevor.
    â€œYou first.”
    Trevor let McKenna apply dabs of makeup, rubbing it in with a soft pad before stepping back, then dusting him with some powder. She covered Trevor’s birthmark completely, then blended the makeup in with the rest of his neck.
    Trevor looked at his face in the mirror, then up at Sam, who stood over his shoulder. “Wow.”
    â€œHere, I’ll give you this makeup so you can do it yourself after you take a