Hard Drive to Short (2 page)

“Good,” said Pop. “If you wish, you can go back to the ball game as soon as I wash up and change my clothes.”

The girls went back to the sandbox,
and Pop went into the house, carrying his lunch box. He was a tall man. He had played soccer in Hungary and frequently went
to see Sharil’s high school soccer team play. He often said he wished he was young again and able to play. Sandy guessed that
Pop must have been an excellent athlete.

Pop was in the house when a loud, familiar voice shouted from the street. “San… dy! Hey, San… dy!”

Sandy jumped off the porch steps and ran around to the front of the house. “Hi!” he said to his buddies, Nibbs Spry and Jules
Anderson. “Who won?”

“We did,” said Nibbs, grinning and showing a missing tooth. “Ten to nine. What a ball game!”

“The score was tied nine-all to the sixth inning,” said Jules. “Then Punk Peters
doubled, and Cookie Lamarr knocked him in.”

“For a while we thought the game was a goner,” said Nibbs. “Ike Norman took your place at short and missed two easy grounders.
That guy’s no ballplayer. Why did you have to leave so soon, anyway? Duke said you didn’t even want to tell Mr. Malone why
you had to leave. Is it a secret?”

Before Sandy could answer, there was a shout from his father.

“Sandor!” his father’s voice reached him from the other side of the house. “Where are you? Where is Jo Ann?”

Sandy whirled around. “Oh, gee…!” he blurted, and sprinted to the backyard. Elizabeth was playing near the sandbox, but Jo
Ann was nowhere in sight.

“Jo Ann! Jo Ann!” he yelled.

By sheer instinct he ran toward the shrubbery separating his house from the Traceys’ and burst through to the other side.

“Jo Ann!” he yelled again. “Come back here!”

She was standing by Rex, the big shepherd dog, patting him on the head. “Big doggie,” she was saying. “Big doggie.”

R
EX perked up his ears and looked at Sandy. His curved, brown, white-tipped tail was still. Sandy had heard that a dog who
didn’t wag his tail wasn’t friendly. Yet there was Jo Ann, patting Rex on the back, and Rex didn’t seem to mind.

“Jo Ann! Get away from him!” Sandy ordered.

Jo Ann didn’t move. “Big doggie,” she repeated.

Rex wagged his tail, and Sandy stepped
forward carefully. “Hi, Rex,” he said. “Hi, boy.”

He took Jo Ann’s hand, then very gently reached over and patted Rex on the head. Rex peered curiously at him. His pink tongue
was hanging out, and he was breathing fast. His tail wagged fast, too.

“I think he likes you two,” said a voice from the house.

Sandy looked up, startled, and saw Mr. Tracey smoking a pipe and gazing at them through the screen door of the enclosed porch.

“Hi, Mr. Tracey. Jo Ann came here on her own, and I’m taking her back.”

“You won’t have to worry about Rex.” Mr. Tracey smiled. “He won’t hurt her.”

As Sandy led Jo Ann back through the shrubbery to their own backyard, relief
washed over him. Now that he had been near Rex himself, he didn’t need to be afraid of the big shepherd dog anymore. The Traceys
had only had him about five or six weeks.

Just the same he wished there was a fence, besides the shrubbery, separating the two lots so that Jo Ann would not stray during
those few seconds he took his eyes off her. It seemed that it was always
then
that she decided to take off for somewhere.

When he returned to the front of the house, Nibbs and Jules were busy playing catch. Luckily they had forgotten about asking
again why Sandy had left the game early.

On Thursday the Spacemen tangled with the Ripcords, and once again Sandy
started at shortstop. The Spacemen were up first and got their first run on a single by Sandy Varga with Kerry Dean on second
base. Oink Decker walked, and then Marty Loomis blasted a double, scoring Sandy and giving the Spacemen two runs that first
inning.

They led till the bottom of the third, when a Ripcord popped a fly high up into the air that started dropping in short left
center field. Left fielder Jules Anderson, center fielder Oink Decker and shortstop Sandy Varga all ran after it and yelled,
“I’ve got it!” at the same time.

Then each player, thinking that the others would catch it, stepped away from the ball — and it dropped between them!

The three boys stared at one another. Then Sandy broke from the shock that momentarily had gripped him, picked up the ball and looked to see where the runners were, for the Ripcords had two men on base before this last hit. One runner had
scored, and the second was rounding third.

Sandy pegged the ball home. The Ripcords’ third-base coach yelled at the runner and got him back to third. One run had scored
on that blunder.

I should have taken it, thought Sandy. But I was sure that either Jules or Oink was going to.…

The Ripcords scored once more that inning. Then Sandy made a neat catch on a grass-skimming grounder and pegged to first to
keep the Ripcords from scoring more runs.

“Nice play Sandy” Coach Malone said. Then he shook his head, disgusted. “Boys, listen. On that fly ball in the outfield…
I’ve warned you guys a dozen times about a play like that. When three of you are able to catch a pop fly,
let the fielder coming in after the ball catch it. Yell for him to take it.
It isn’t that hard!”

He smiled and squeezed Sandy and Jules on the shoulder. “Forget it this time. Just do it right the next time. Once in a while
even the pros make the same mistake.”

Sandy was able to bat only once more before twenty minutes to seven rolled around and he had to leave. He got his second hit,
a three-bagger, scoring Ken Bockman. Oink popped up to end the top of the half-inning. The score was 3 to 2 in the Spacemen’s
favor. Two of those runs had been knocked in by Sandy.

“You’re playing great ball, Sandy,” the coach said to him as he started to leave. “You’re a natural.”

Sandy smiled. “Thanks, sir. I’ve got to go now.”

“We won’t be playing again until next Thursday,” said Coach Malone. “So be
here Tuesday at five o’clock for practice. Okay?”

“Okay!” said Sandy, and started running off the field.

“Hey, Sandy!” a guy yelled at him. “Where are you going?”

Sandy didn’t tell him. The guys might make fun of him if he told them he had to babysit his little sisters. They didn’t have
to know.

He was walking by a large white house when he saw Rod Temple in the driveway, sitting on his bright red motorbike, trying
to start it. Rod was in high school and played second base with the Redwings, Sharil’s town team. But Rod was no ordinary
second baseman. He was the best, and very popular.

“Hi, Rod,” greeted Sandy.

“Well hi, kid. Been playing ball?”

“Yeah.” He didn’t want to say any more about the game, not unless Rod asked him specific questions. He didn’t want to tell
Rod he had to go home to watch his sisters. Even Rod might laugh about that.

“Saw in the paper you play pretty good ball. Keep that up and someday you’ll be playing with the Redwings.”

Sandy grinned, but he didn’t know what to say.

“Want to take a spin?” Rod asked. “Around a few blocks, maybe?”

Sandy’s eyes popped. “A ride? On your motorbike?”

“Sure!” Rod grinned. “Come on. Climb on the backseat.”

Sandy wanted to very much. It wasn’t
only the ride on the motorbike he’d enjoy. It was being with Rod.

“Thanks, Rod. But I’ve got to get home.”

Rod chuckled. “What’s the matter? Scared?”

Sandy’s face reddened. “No, I’m not scared. I’ll take a ride some other time. I promise!”

Rod’s laughter drifted after Sandy as he ran across the street and into his own driveway. He couldn’t get over it. Rod, a
great second baseman, a guy a lot of kids would give five dollars to be with, had asked Sandy to go riding with him!

Mom left a few seconds after Sandy got home. Jo Ann and Elizabeth were in the backyard, playing with a dollhouse.

“Who won the game?” Elizabeth asked, putting diapers on her doll.

“Nobody yet,” answered Sandy. “It’s only half over.” I wish you and Jo Ann were bigger, he thought. Then I wouldn’t have to
babysit. I could still be playing in that game. Or, better yet, riding with Rod Temple on his motorbike. Sandy sighed.

He liked Rod Temple, and he thought Rod liked him. They were two of a kind, thought Sandy. It made no difference that Rod
was older and bigger than he. They
both
could do something extra well. They both were real good ballplayers. Everyone knew that Rod Temple was the best player on
the Redwings. And Coach Malone had practically said that Sandy was the best player with the Spacemen.

Later Nibbs and Jules stopped in and told him that the Spacemen had won the game 6 to 4. Pop was home by now, and
Sandy had changed into his everyday clothes. They had supper, which Mom had prepared and left in the oven.

The house seemed empty without Mom and Peter at the table. Especially without Mom. She had said she would work for a year.
By that time the combined savings of Mom, Pop and Peter would be enough to put Peter through his first year of college and
give him a good start toward his second year. Mom might have to work again after that. It all depended.

Sandy was looking at his model of a space capsule — it was eighteen inches long with two astronauts strapped inside of it
— and thinking about Rod Temple. In a little while he might see if Rod was in the driveway with his motorbike. Perhaps Rod
might offer him a ride again.

Someone knocked on the front door. Sandy heard Pop answer it, then Pop’s raised voice. “Sandy! Nibbs and Jules are here to
see you!”

“Okay, Pop!” He ran out of his room and met them at the door.

“Hi, Sandy” Nibbs Spry’s hair was still wet from a shower. “We’re going to play miniature golf. Want to come along?”

Sandy looked at them, unable to make up his mind. He enjoyed playing miniature golf with the guys, but what if Rod was out
there? What if this might be his chance to ride on Rod’s motorbike? He could play miniature golf anytime.

“I — I’m busy, guys,” he said lamely. “Maybe next time. Okay?”

The two boys looked at him. “Okay,” said Nibbs, his smile fading. He and Jules walked away, and Sandy closed the door.

Later on he wished he had gone with Nibbs and Jules because he didn’t see Rod and his motorbike that evening at all.

O
N Saturday afternoon Rod Temple was polishing his motorbike again, and Sandy walked across the street to watch him.

“Hi, Rod,” he called.

“Hi, Sandy. Polishing up this baby again. You’d be surprised how quick she gets dirty.”

Sandy didn’t think that the motorbike ever got as dirty as Rod implied. It always looked as clean and new as the day Rod had
purchased it. Like now. You could
see your reflection in it even if the curves distorted it.

“Got time?” asked Rod. “I’ll take you for a ride.”

Sandy was elated. His wish was answered. “Okay.” He didn’t want to sound as excited as he felt.

Rod stood away from the bike and looked at it. “Well, the shine’s still not too good, but I won’t spend more time with it
now. Let’s take our ride.”

He stuck the chamois cloth into a leather pouch behind the front seat, then turned the bike around so that it faced the street.
He got on, and Sandy climbed on behind him.

Rod started the motor and carefully drove out of the driveway, then sped down the street. The motor put-putted loudly as the
little bike wove slightly from
left to right for a few seconds, then evened its course and shot straight ahead. Sandy hung on tight to the handgrips of his
seat, the wind lashing his hair and caressing his cheeks. What fun this was! It was the first time he had ever ridden on a
motorbike.

They rode down the street for several blocks, then turned left. Sandy wasn’t thinking about where they were going. He was
thinking only of the ride and of being with Rod.

“Hi, Sandy!” a voice suddenly shouted. Two others joined in.

Oink Decker, Marty Loomis and Ken Bockman were waving to him from the sidewalk. He took a hand off the grip and waved back.
He wondered if they envied him. Well, let them. He deserved to ride with Rodney.

The bike pulled up to a curb in front of an ice cream store. “How about an ice cream cone?” asked Rod, digging into his pocket.

“Okay.”

After a few moments of searching Rod said, “Uh-oh. Left all my dough at home.”

“I’ve got plenty,” Sandy piped up enthusiastically. “I’ll buy.”

“You sure it’s okay?”

“Sure, I’m sure.” Sandy lifted out his wallet. “What kind do you like?”

“Maple walnut.”

“I’ll get two. Doubleheaders?”

Rod grinned. “Doubleheaders!”

Sandy bought them while Rod stood outside with his bike. They ate the ice cream, then started up the bike and rode on. They
arrived at Fillmore Park, a huge, beautiful place with two ball diamonds,
tennis courts and picnic grounds in the wooded hills beyond. A high waterfall sparkled gorgeously to the left. Below, in a
dammed-up pond, people were diving and swimming.