She's such a sweet lady…sharp as a whip, too."
I gulp. Sharp as whip …?
He doesn't know. Roberta didn't tell him .
"Go on. Skedaddle!" He points down the hallway leading to the players' parking lot, the diamond band on his World Series ring twinkling under the lights. "Don't let one bad day get under your skin. 'Cause, just between you and me? You're the kinda player I can see buildin' this entire team around." He smiles at me. "So hang in there, all right?"
He's basically telling me that the job at second base is mine, and as a player, an endorsement like that coming from someone like him should give me all the confidence in the world to tough it out and somehow find my swing again. But knowing that the praise is coming from Roberta's boyfriend somehow takes all the joy out of it for me.
Landry enters the clubhouse, and the room immediately goes silent. "Listen up, boys, 'cause I'm only gonna say this once…" he says as the door swings shut behind him.
Yeah, he's all down-home and folksy outside the game. But when it comes to winning? He's as competitive as they come. I'm grateful I didn't have to go up against him. I still have time to figure something out. He claims he's building this team around me. If that's the case, then there's no way he's going to let me quit because of Mom. He'll steamroll over me and put her somewhere before I can even blink.
I peer out into the rain and pull my hood up over my head. But for now, Mom is still with me, safe and sound, and I have to keep telling myself that. Roberta didn't betray me . And as my sneakers slosh through the puddles, there's an undeniable spring to my step, one that's been missing for quite some time. Maybe I can convince Mrs. Jenkins to come over again later on so I can pop over to the Sheraton and thank Roberta in person for not spilling the beans and turning my life upside down.
On a good day, my Subaru hatchback isn't that hard to find. It usually stands out among the other players' souped-up pickups and speedy little hot-rods. But today, Mom's faded blue umbrella is leading me to it like a homing beacon. I smile, remembering the night Dad brought it home, a freebie from one of Beaver Field's many giveaway nights.
"Hey, Ma!" I call out. "Did you enjoy the game?"
But when the umbrella twirls in my direction, it's not Mom standing underneath it. It's Mrs. Jenkins, talking frantically to a stadium security guard. And damn the puddles, I break into a run.
"Mrs. Jenkins, where is she? Where's Mom?"
As I approach, tears start falling down her cheeks. "I don't know," she sobs. "I turned away for one second…and she was gone."
"What?" I grab onto my hood, trying to make sense of what she's telling me. "You were supposed to be watching her!"
"Luke, it happened so fast," she wails. "Ever since the first inning, I've been looking all over for her…"
"The first inning!" I exclaim. "That was almost two hours ago!"
"Mr. Singleton, I'm going to have to ask you to calm down." The security guard steps in, laying a hand on my arm. "We're doing everything we can to locate your mother."
"Then where is she?" I yell back. "She could be anywhere by now!"
I spin around in a circle, my eyes combing the area, taking in everything at once. Yeah, Mom's done this before, but usually when there are plenty of people around to point out what direction she went in. But the crowd's dispersed. Anyone who could have seen her is long gone by now. And that's when my eyes stray to the forested area right beyond the outfield wall, and a chill goes down my spine.
"Are you searching everywhere? Do you have anyone outside, looking for her?" I demand.
"Sir, we don't have the manpower. We're currently searching the stadium restrooms and—"
"For two hours?" I scream at him. "For two hours, all you've been doing is kicking in bathroom stalls? You need to call the police."
"But, Luke," Mrs. Jenkins whimpers, pulling on my arm. "I told him not to."
"That's right," the guard pipes up.
I gulp. Sharp as whip …?
He doesn't know. Roberta didn't tell him .
"Go on. Skedaddle!" He points down the hallway leading to the players' parking lot, the diamond band on his World Series ring twinkling under the lights. "Don't let one bad day get under your skin. 'Cause, just between you and me? You're the kinda player I can see buildin' this entire team around." He smiles at me. "So hang in there, all right?"
He's basically telling me that the job at second base is mine, and as a player, an endorsement like that coming from someone like him should give me all the confidence in the world to tough it out and somehow find my swing again. But knowing that the praise is coming from Roberta's boyfriend somehow takes all the joy out of it for me.
Landry enters the clubhouse, and the room immediately goes silent. "Listen up, boys, 'cause I'm only gonna say this once…" he says as the door swings shut behind him.
Yeah, he's all down-home and folksy outside the game. But when it comes to winning? He's as competitive as they come. I'm grateful I didn't have to go up against him. I still have time to figure something out. He claims he's building this team around me. If that's the case, then there's no way he's going to let me quit because of Mom. He'll steamroll over me and put her somewhere before I can even blink.
I peer out into the rain and pull my hood up over my head. But for now, Mom is still with me, safe and sound, and I have to keep telling myself that. Roberta didn't betray me . And as my sneakers slosh through the puddles, there's an undeniable spring to my step, one that's been missing for quite some time. Maybe I can convince Mrs. Jenkins to come over again later on so I can pop over to the Sheraton and thank Roberta in person for not spilling the beans and turning my life upside down.
On a good day, my Subaru hatchback isn't that hard to find. It usually stands out among the other players' souped-up pickups and speedy little hot-rods. But today, Mom's faded blue umbrella is leading me to it like a homing beacon. I smile, remembering the night Dad brought it home, a freebie from one of Beaver Field's many giveaway nights.
"Hey, Ma!" I call out. "Did you enjoy the game?"
But when the umbrella twirls in my direction, it's not Mom standing underneath it. It's Mrs. Jenkins, talking frantically to a stadium security guard. And damn the puddles, I break into a run.
"Mrs. Jenkins, where is she? Where's Mom?"
As I approach, tears start falling down her cheeks. "I don't know," she sobs. "I turned away for one second…and she was gone."
"What?" I grab onto my hood, trying to make sense of what she's telling me. "You were supposed to be watching her!"
"Luke, it happened so fast," she wails. "Ever since the first inning, I've been looking all over for her…"
"The first inning!" I exclaim. "That was almost two hours ago!"
"Mr. Singleton, I'm going to have to ask you to calm down." The security guard steps in, laying a hand on my arm. "We're doing everything we can to locate your mother."
"Then where is she?" I yell back. "She could be anywhere by now!"
I spin around in a circle, my eyes combing the area, taking in everything at once. Yeah, Mom's done this before, but usually when there are plenty of people around to point out what direction she went in. But the crowd's dispersed. Anyone who could have seen her is long gone by now. And that's when my eyes stray to the forested area right beyond the outfield wall, and a chill goes down my spine.
"Are you searching everywhere? Do you have anyone outside, looking for her?" I demand.
"Sir, we don't have the manpower. We're currently searching the stadium restrooms and—"
"For two hours?" I scream at him. "For two hours, all you've been doing is kicking in bathroom stalls? You need to call the police."
"But, Luke," Mrs. Jenkins whimpers, pulling on my arm. "I told him not to."
"That's right," the guard pipes up.
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