Soar

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Viking

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First published in the United States of America by Viking,
an imprint of Penguin Random House LLC, 2016

Copyright © 2016 by Joan Bauer

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Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

Bauer, Joan

Soar / Joan Bauer.

pages cm

Summary: Moving to Hillcrest, Ohio, when his adoptive father accepts a temporary job, twelve-year-old Jeremiah, a heart transplant recipient, has sixty days to find a baseball team to coach.

ISBN 978-0-698-15994-5

[1. Moving, Household—Fiction. 2. Heart—Transplantation—Fiction. 3. Baseball—Fiction. 4. Coaches (Athletics)—Fiction. 5. Teamwork (Sports)—Fiction. 6. Adoption—Fiction.] I. Title.

PZ7.B32615So 2016 [Fic]—dc23 2015013293

For Evan and Jean, one of the first father/daughter duos to attend the Father & Son Baseball Camp in Cooperstown.

I'M PROBABLY TWELVE
years old; that's what the doctors think. I could have been born anywhere, but it was most likely in Indianapolis, Indiana—at least that's where I've decided I was born, because that's where I was found. Specifically, I was found at Computer Partners Ltd. in the snack room, right by the coffeepot. I think it's one of the reasons that I like the taste of coffee—it reminds me of home. I was found by Walt Lopper, a computer geek who had never so much as diapered a baby, but there I was, and I'm told it was clear that I did need a new diaper. I needed a lot of other things, too, but my bottle wasn't empty, so the police felt that meant I hadn't been there long. Walt found me at seven a.m. on October third—it was his turn to make coffee and he always got to work early. I was in my baby chair with a note:

pleez tek car of him Bcaz he my best boy
I no yur good!

There weren't any other clues about who left me there, but I'm inclined to believe it was my mother, who might have worked nights cleaning office buildings. I had a little stuffed eagle that I was gnawing on, but other than that it was your usual thing. Walt called the police and they came and took me to the station and then someone from child services came and took me to a safe place, although Computer Partners Ltd. was a safe place, real safe, otherwise my mother wouldn't have left me there. I'm told I didn't cry, I just watched people and took things in, but if you wanted to see what I was made of, try taking the stuffed eagle from my little hands. I'd yank it back and screech, “No!”

They think I was nine months old when I was found, so saying “no” is a pretty big deal. Walt says it indicates I had a big brain, possibly like Einstein. Walt has a big brain. He's officially a computer genius, but even bigger than his brain is his heart, which he says he hadn't paid that much attention to until I came along.

The police tried to find the person who left me. I refuse to use the word
abandoned
because I'm fairly
certain that my mother loved me and didn't have much choice but to leave me. I'm also fairly certain that she knew it was Walt's day to make the coffee. I think she probably checked out who was in that company and would never have left me there on a Monday, which was Dirk Dagwood's day to make coffee. From what I've heard, he might not even have noticed a baby sitting there chewing on a stuffed eagle. He was that kind of clueless.

It took a while for Walt to adopt me, being a single man and all. He had to get trained and certified as a foster parent. It took another year of my living with him to convince the judge he should be my official dad. Walt spent a lot of time trying to figure me out, and I'm told he talked to me like I was a baby genius. He read me articles from computer magazines, he took computers apart and told me what he was doing and why. During baseball season we watched the games together and he told me how the pitcher was trying to psych out the batter and what some of the signals meant. My favorite signal involved tapping your nose, which Walt said could mean anything, depending on the day. I tapped my nose a lot, and Walt carried me around explaining what everything was and how the
world was a pretty complicated place, which I already knew.

When the adoption went through, Walt said, “It's official now. Okay?”

“Okay,” I said. After that I started talking to Walt and to my stuffed eagle that I named Baby. I didn't talk to anyone else until later.

The problem with having a story like this is people don't know what to do with it. Their faces get super sad and their shoulders slump as they pat me on the head, which I find irritating, and say, “My, you are a little survivor, aren't you?”

Well, I suppose I am. But since I don't remember the first few years of my life, I don't feel like I can take any credit for it. And then there's the issue of my birthday, which is a theory, but schools seem to need an actual date, so I count three months ahead from October third when I was found to early January. I give the doctor a fudge factor in his estimate of one week, which puts my birthday on January tenth. Getting close is important to me.

I've lived in four different places, because Walt is a consultant and has to move around a lot. At my last two schools my class was learning the recorder. I'm so
done with this instrument. I can play “Go Tell Aunt Rhody” in my sleep. I told Eddie Bartok, who was failing recorder, to pretend he was a snake charmer—they play instruments like this and get the snakes to dance to the music. This caused Eddie to practice like crazy, but his mother wouldn't get him a snake. He tried charming worms in the garden, but worms today, they couldn't care less. He played “Go Tell Aunt Rhody” to his dog, who yelped and ran away. Once Eddie was at my house with his recorder and he tried to charm Baby.

“Inanimate things don't respond!” I mentioned.

And anyway, nobody can charm an eagle.

You can't keep an eagle in a cage or have one for a pet.

The number one rule for eagles is they have to be free.

I'm sure this is why my mother gave me that stuffy. She knew I had an eagle inside of me. Not everybody does.

But when you do, you'd better pay attention and deal with it, because if you don't, you'll have one intensely frustrating life.