Satch & Me by Dan Gutman Page B

myself.”
    â€œYou do that, Stosh.”
    Poor Flip. When it came to women, he just didn’t know what to say or do. He got all shy and nervous. I told him he should just be himself and talk to Laverne. You know, ask her what she likes to do. Make conversation. Flip said he’d think about it. There was just no talking sense to him.
    By the time we emptied the sink of pots and pans, Flip and I were exhausted. Laverne’s father came out while I was drying the last pot.
    â€œOkay, you boys can go now,” he said gruffly. “But I don’t want to see you two ’round here no more, y’hear me? I don’t need your business. And I don’t need your colored friends’ business neither.”
    â€œYes, sir,” Flip said. He grabbed his suitcase and we left the diner. I looked around to say good-bye to Laverne, but she was nowhere in sight.
    It was late afternoon by this time. The lunch crowd was gone and there weren’t many cars on the street outside the diner.
    â€œHow are we gonna get to Pittsburgh?” I asked Flip.
    â€œOnly way we can,” he said. Flip walked over to the side of the road and stuck out his thumb.
    My mother once told me that I should never hitchhike. She said that getting into a car with a stranger is really dangerous. You don’t know what kind of lunatic might pick you up. But Flip said that back in the old days, people hitchhiked all the time.It was safer back then. Not as many people owned cars. There was no other way for some people to get around. And maybe there weren’t as many lunatics running around back in the 1940s.
    We walked down the road in the same direction the Homestead Grays’ bus had been going. Every so often we’d turn around if we heard a car coming. Then we’d stick out our thumbs. Flip told me to look sad and pathetic so people would feel sorry for us and stop to pick us up. It wasn’t hard to do. We were sad and pathetic.
    But nobody even slowed down for us. Ten or twenty cars must have passed by, and all they did was leave us in a cloud of dust. It was depressing. I told Flip we should just forget about this whole silly idea of clocking Satchel Paige. I had a fresh pack of baseball cards in my pocket. We could go back home anytime we wanted.
    â€œLet’s just wait for a few more cars,” Flip said.
    And that’s when I saw it.
    â€œLook! A bus!” I shouted.
    In the distance, I could see a gray bus coming our way. Maybe it was going to Pittsburgh. We wouldn’t even have to hitchhike. We had the money Laverne had given us. We could use it to pay the bus fare.
    The bus got closer and we waved our hands in the air to let the driver know we wanted to get on.
    â€œHe’s not slowin’ down,” Flip said.
    Flip was right. The bus was going about 50 milesan hour, and it was almost on top of us. I could see some lettering on the side. It read:
    Â 
    KANSAS CITY MONARCHS
    Â 
    â€œWait!” I screamed as the bus blew past us. “Stop!”
    No use. The bus kept right on going.
    â€œSatchel Paige plays for the Monarchs!” I shouted to Flip. “He’s on that bus!”
    The bus was gone. Flip put his suitcase on the ground at the side of the road and sat down on it. He took off his hat and wiped his forehead.
    â€œWell, we tried,” he said wearily. “We gave it our best shot. Let’s go home, Stosh.”
    I sat down next to him. We were both depressed. I pulled out my pack of new baseball cards and ripped off the wrapper. I took out one of the cards and put the rest back in my pocket. Flip grabbed my hand.
    â€œClose your eyes,” I said.
    We closed our eyes and I concentrated. I imagined us in the twenty-first century again. Back in Louisville. Home. It wasn’t long until I started to feel the slightest tingle in my fingertips.
    As we sat there, I heard a car engine in the distance. It got louder, so I knew it was getting closer. I ignored