Hit & Miss (3 page)

During fielding practice, after making a nice catch of a sharp grounder at third, he'd hesitated, not knowing what to do next. Then he'd thrown the ball back to the catcher instead of to first base.

A few of the other kids had laughed and made comments, and the kid had looked painfully embarrassed.

As for hitting, his swing was powerful, but long and loopy. He swung through pitch after pitch, and Derek noticed some of the kids muttering to one another and shaking their heads.

Finally, on his last swing, the kid somehow connected
with a pitch that was way down in the dirt—and
wow
! The ball took off, high and far, and sailed for what seemed like miles.

“Whoa!” everyone said at once.

If he ever figures out how to make contact consistently, he's going to be really good,
Derek thought. “Nice hit,” he said.

The kid looked at him like he was from Mars. He didn't say anything. Not “thanks.” Not a word.

“I'm Derek. Derek Jeter. What's your name?”

The kid looked away. “Dave.”

“Nice to meet you, Dave.”

The kid made no reply. He just walked over to the bench, sat down, and stared at the dirt between his feet.

Strange,
thought Derek.
Well, maybe he's shy or something.

Derek turned his attention to the next hitter, Reggie Brown. Reggie had been in Derek's class last year. He had asthma and carried an inhaler around with him that he used once in a while to help him breathe. Derek hoped Reggie didn't have to use it during a game, while running the bases or something.
It must be tough to have a hard time breathing,
he thought.

Reggie hit a few pop-ups, a grounder, and one good line drive. Then it was Derek's turn.

He stepped to the plate and suddenly felt energized. It was as if the entire winter had shrunk down to the size of a
pea, and the all-star game that had ended last season had taken place only yesterday.

He whacked the first pitch so hard that Coach Kaufman had to hit the dirt. “Wow! Easy there!” he joked as he got up and dusted himself off.

Derek then proceeded to hit the next three pitches over the outfielders' heads. He finished off with two sharp grounders and another screamer past the mound.

He handed the bat to the next kid and dusted off his hands. He could feel his heart pounding with excitement, and something else—
relief.

Those two sessions in the batting cages had really gotten him ready, and he'd made exactly the first impression he'd wanted to make.

“What did I tell you?” Vijay was crowing to the kids around him. “Derek's the best. We can't lose!”

“Hey,” Derek corrected him. “Don't jinx us. The season hasn't even started yet.” But he had to admit, the Red Sox looked pretty good, better than any team he'd been on up till now, that was for sure!

•  •  •

After practice all the kids scattered. Those who lived near Westwood Fields walked, and the rest got into their parents' cars and drove away. Derek saw his mom waiting for him in the old station wagon.

“Come on, Vijay. Let's go,” Derek said. Mrs. Jeter usually drove Vijay home, since his family lived in Mount Royal
Townhouses, and the two families knew each other well.

As they walked toward the car, Derek saw the new kid, Dave, standing alone, far from the other stragglers who were hanging out together, talking and joking around. He was staring at the ground, looking lost and sad. It reminded Derek of how Sharlee had looked that morning.

“Strange, huh?” Vijay said.

“What?”

“That new kid.”

“You mean Dave?” Derek asked.

“That's his name? Dave?”

“That's what he said.”

“Dave what?”

“He didn't say,” Derek said. “In fact, Dave was the only word he said.”

“Nobody on the team has ever seen him before,” Vijay said. “I asked everyone.”

“Maybe he's new in town,” Derek suggested.

“Or maybe he lives somewhere else and his parents gave a false address so he could play in our league. It happens, you know.”

Derek gave Vijay a look. “Yeah, right. And maybe I'm a space alien. Come on, Vij. Get real.”

“Well, he doesn't seem very happy to be here, that's for sure,” said Vijay, opening the car door.

“Oh well,” said Derek, sitting down across from Vijay in the backseat. “I guess we'll find out his story sooner or later.”

“Hi, guys. How was practice?” asked Mrs. Jeter.

“Fine,” said Derek.

“Great!” said Vijay. “This is going to be a great team.”

“Wow!” said Derek's mom. “Sounds promising.”

“We'll see,” Derek cautioned. “So far so good, but—”

“But what?” Vijay asked.

“You never know,” Derek answered, then gave his friend a little smile. “Hey, that's why we play the games, right?”

“Okay, class. Attention, please.”

At the sound of Mr. Beckham's voice, Derek looked up from the composition he was writing. It was about the Revolutionary War, from the point of view of a colonist loyal to the king of England.

Mr. Beckham had left the room for a few minutes while they'd been working, and he now came back in with Dave, the new kid from Derek's team.

Dave stood next to Mr. Beckham and a step behind him, looking uncomfortable. His eyes darted this way and that, and he kept his hands folded in front of him, rocking forward and backward on his feet.

“This is David Hennum, class.”

“Um, it's . . . Dave,” murmured Dave, staring at the floor.

“Ah. Okay. Dave, then. He and his family have just moved here, from Beverly Hills, California, of all places.”

Mr. Beckham smiled, his eyebrows raised. But if this juicy nugget had been intended to impress the class, it had the opposite effect. Giggles and murmurs filled the room. Derek heard the words “Mr. Hollywood” and “snob,” among others.

“Calm down, class,” Mr. Beckham said, clapping his hands twice to restore order. When the noise quieted down, he went on to say, “I know you'll show him a warm Saint Augustine's welcome. Right?”

“Right!” Derek said. Then he realized that he was one of only two or three kids to answer, with the others keeping an embarrassed silence. Derek slunk down in his chair as more giggling and murmuring started.

Mr. Beckham frowned. “Let me ask again.
Right?
”

This time the class responded as requested. But Derek knew, and was sure Dave knew too, that they didn't really mean it.

He could see that Dave had become even more uncomfortable. Mr. Beckham directed him to an empty seat in the back row, where Dave was not heard from at all the rest of that morning.

From time to time one or another of the kids would lean over and whisper something to his or her neighbor,
like, “Where are his cool shades?” or “He doesn't
look
famous,” or “I'll bet he's a snob.”

Derek didn't respond. He focused on his work, but every now and then he would glance behind him at Dave. It seemed as if everyone else was doing the same thing. Dave, for his part, kept his eyes firmly planted on his desk. Finally, mercifully, the bell rang for recess.

•  •  •

It was warm and sunny outside. The last of the snow piles in the corner of the schoolyard had shrunken to almost nothing. Derek sat on a bench, eating the sandwich and apple that his mom had packed for him.

As the kids who ate in the cafeteria filtered out into the schoolyard for the second half of recess, several groups started playing games—everything from freeze tag, to marbles, to throwing around a football, to soccer. Other kids just hung out together around the edges of the schoolyard, talking in groups or pairs.

Vijay and Isaiah called Derek over to where they were discussing the team's chances. “That kid Cubby can really play,” Isaiah was saying. “He stole home twice last year, I heard.”

“I know he made the all-star team,” Derek said.

“He break-dances, too,” Vijay said. “He's in public school, but they have a talent show, just like here at Saint Augustine's.”

“Break-dances, huh?” Derek said with a laugh. “That's cool.”

“Have you ever tried it?” Vijay asked. “I bet you could bust some moves.”

“Cut it out,” Derek said, giving Vijay a playful elbow. “I'd like to see you try that stuff.”

“Him?” That made Isaiah crack up. Vijay didn't seem like the type to break-dance, but Derek knew that people sometimes surprised you, so it was better not to assume anything.

“Hey, I can do whatever I set my mind to. Right, Derek?” Vijay said.

“Right.” Derek wasn't going to say no. Vijay had always supported Derek's dream. Derek owed him at least the same in return.

“It's just not my thing,” Vijay concluded.

“There you go,” said Isaiah.

Derek glanced over Isaiah's shoulder and saw that Dave was sitting alone again. He had his elbows resting on his knees, and his chin resting in his hands.

Derek's memories of his own first days in Kalamazoo came flooding back to him. Most people had welcomed the Jeters, an interracial family, with smiles and open arms when they'd arrived from the East Coast. But a few people hadn't.

It hadn't been easy for Derek in the beginning—or for Vijay, either. The Patels had been the first Indian American family to move into Mount Royal Townhouses. Derek and Vijay had made friends right away, but it had taken a while for Vijay's parents to fit in.

“Hey, guys, you want to go over and talk to the new kid?” Derek asked his friends.

“Sure, why not?” said Vijay, who was always game for anything Derek suggested.

“I don't know,” Isaiah said.

“He's on our team
and
in our class,” Derek reminded him.

“Yeah, but he doesn't seem very friendly,” Isaiah said.

“Sometimes you've got to make the first move,” Derek said with a little grin. “Like in break dancing. Right, Vijay?”

They all laughed. Then the bell rang for the end of recess.

Taking the first step with Dave would have to wait until after school. Isaiah and Vijay both looked relieved, but Derek was determined to break the ice. It was what
he
would have wanted someone to do for him on
his
first day in a new school.

•  •  •

“I got a ninety-three.”

It was the end of the school day, and Derek was standing near the main entrance of the school, comparing test results with Gary Parnell, the smartest kid in fourth grade. Gary had been in his class last year too, and the two boys had been rivals for almost two years running.

Gary made a big show of pulling his test paper out of his book bag. “Read it and weep, Jeter,” he said with a satisfied grin.

“Ninety-eight. Nice work, Gary.” Derek handed the paper back to him. “Watch out next time, though. I'm getting closer.”

“In your dreams,” said Gary, tucking the precious paper back into his bag, which was full of such papers.

Gary never got tired of rubbing it in. Derek had beaten him on a test only once, but that had been such a sweet victory that Derek had been working twice as hard ever since to beat him again, just to see that shocked look on Gary's face one more time.

Derek saw Dave duck out the main door. “I've got to go, Gary. See you tomorrow.”

“Yeah. Science test! Can't wait.” He rubbed his hands together, imagining another victory over Derek.

“Me neither.”

Derek smiled right back at him, mustering enough confidence that Gary was taken aback, at least for a moment. Then Gary laughed and nodded. “Okay, game on then, Jeter. See you tomorrow.” He gave Derek a little fist pound and headed down the street.

“Hey, Dave, wait up!” Derek called, turning.

Dave, who had been walking toward the far end of the parking lot at a brisk pace, stopped and frowned when he saw Derek jogging toward him. He jutted his chin out and said, “What do you want?”

“Whoa.” Derek was thrown off balance. “I just wanted to see how you were doing.”

Dave screwed his face up into a skeptical look. “What, did Mr. Beckham tell you to go make friends with the new kid?”

“Huh? No! No way. He didn't say anything. I just—I . . .”

Derek fell silent as words failed him. What had he been trying to do, anyway? Suddenly he felt foolish and wished he'd just left Dave to himself.

“Okay, thanks for asking. I'm fine. See you.” Dave turned to go.

“Wait! Um, I just wanted to say, nice hit the other day at practice.”

Dave snorted. “Yeah. The one ball I made contact with. I whiffed on, what, seven?”

“And you snagged that ball at third. That was awesome.”

“Right before I threw it to the wrong guy,” Dave added. “Listen, seriously, thanks for trying, but you know as well as I do that I barely know the rules of the game.”

“Oh. Well, that's not hard. I could teach you. I—”

“Thanks, but I've gotta go. My ride is here.”

“Oh. I thought you were walking,” Derek said.

“Nah. I live too far away.”

“Oh yeah? Where?”

Dave opened his mouth to reply, but then stopped himself. “I've gotta go. Bye.”

He turned and ran to the edge of the parking lot, then passed through the gate that led out onto the street. An incredibly fancy car waited there, complete with a driver in a black suit and a cap with a shiny visor!

Dave opened the rear door and got in. As the driver pulled away, Derek just stood and stared.

“Whaaat?” It was Vijay, who had come up behind Derek unseen. “Did you see that?”

“Unreal, huh?”

“I think that was a Mercedes.”