All-Star Fever Read online

  To Nicholas Lee and Kyle Lee Christopher

  Copyright

  Text copyright © 1995 by Matt Christopher Royalties, Inc.

  Illustrations copyright © 1995 by Anna Dewdney

  All rights reserved. Except as permitted under the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976, no part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, or stored in a database or retrieval system, without the prior written permission of the publisher.

  Little, Brown and Company

  Hachette Book Group

  237 Park Avenue

  New York, NY 10017

  Visit our website at www.HachetteBookGroup.com

  www.twitter.com/littlebrown

  First eBook Edition: December 2009

  Matt Christopher™ is a trademark of Matt Christopher Royalties, Inc.

  The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious.

  Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author.

  ISBN: 978-0-316-09482-5

  Contents

  Copyright

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  1

  “Steee-rike!” boomed the umpire.

  Bus Mercer took the call without batting an eye. After all, the first two pitches Bucky Neal had thrown had been balls. The Green Dragons’ pitcher had already walked one man this inning, the fourth in the game. There was only one out. Bus figured he could afford to take a strike call.

  The next pitch was another ball. Bus relaxed, feeling sure that Bucky would walk him, too.

  Then Bucky breezed in a belt-high pitch that caught Bus off guard.

  “Steee-rike!”

  Bus stepped quickly out of the box. As he ran his hands up and down the aluminum bat, he glanced over at the stands. Sitting somewhere in that crowd of Peach Street Mudders fans were scouts for the county All-Star team. Bus knew they were watching every player who came to bat, every player who fielded a ball. The best ones would be chosen to play in the All-Star game coming up in two weeks. It was a game every kid in the league would give his right arm for. Well, almost.

  Bus knew he had to make this next pitch count if he was going to stand a chance of making that special team.

  “Belt it, Bus!” Rudy Calhoun yelled from the on-deck circle.

  Bus stepped back into the box. He swung hard at the next pitch. A high-hopping grounder toward short! Dropping the bat, he beat it for first base. But the shortstop fielded the ball and winged it to the first baseman in plenty of time.

  Drat!Bus thought sourly. I really needed that hit! Instead, I just made a stupid out.Then he remembered Coach Parker’s warning before the game.

  “Those scouts will be watching this team for three games. So if you miss out on one play in one game, don’t dwell on it. Just make a mental note to try a bit harder next time, then put the play out of your head. Nothing hurts a player’s concentration more than worrying about something that can’t be changed. A good attitude is as important as a good play — and those scouts will be looking for both.”

  So Bus tried to shake off his disappointment by joining the bench in cheering on the next batter.

  But Rudy Calhoun, the Peach Street Mudders’ catcher, struck out on four pitches to end the fourth inning.

  “C’mon you guys! Let’s stop ‘em again!” Coach Parker yelled, clapping his hands as the Mudders took to the field for the beginning of the fifth inning.

  The Mudders looked neat in their white, blue-trimmed uniforms, a sharp contrast to the green, white-trimmed uniforms the Dragons wore.

  Bus got into his position, covering the hole between second and third, and joined in the infield chatter. “C’mon Sparrow! Get ‘em outta there! Make it one, two, three!”

  Smack!

  A streaking grass-cutter shot past Sparrow’s legs for a single.

  But that was the only hit the Dragons got that inning. A fly-out, a ground-out, and a strikeout ended their turn at bat.

  “Okay, Sparrow,” Bus called as the pitcher tossed off his glove and picked up a bat. “We’ve got to get onto that scoreboard to win this one! Show ‘em you can hit as well as you pitch!”

  Sparrow did. He laced a line drive over second base for a single. The bench stood up and joined the Mudders fans in a loud cheer.

  Then Barry McGee doubled, advancing Sparrow to third. But Turtleneck Jones and José Méndez both popped out. It looked like Sparrow and Barry might die on base. With two outs and the game still scoreless, T.V. Adams stepped to the plate. Bus held his breath as the ball left Bucky Neal’s hand.

  T.V. came through with flying colors. He belted a sky-reaching fly ball to deep left field that went for a triple. Both Sparrow and Barry made it home. The score was now Mudders 2, Dragons 0.

  Nicky Chong flied out to end the inning.

  As Bus jogged onto the field, he half hoped the Dragons would get some hits this inning. He wanted the Mudders to win the game, but he wanted to show the All-Star scouts what he could do in the field, too. And if the Dragons scored enough runs to tie the game, the Mudders would come to bat in the bottom of the sixth inning. Then Bus would get another chance to bat.

  Bus grit his teeth. I’m ready,he thought with determination.

  2

  The Dragons came to the plate looking ready to spit fire. It was the top of the sixth and final inning, their last chance to score.

  And score they did. A sizzling single between first and second was followed by a high-flying homer over José Mendez’s glove. The score now read Mudders 2, Dragons 2.

  Bus pounded his fist into his glove. C’mon, hit it to me!he thought.

  Beans Malone did just that. He drilled a hot, grass-hugging grounder directly at Bus.

  Bus saw the ball moving toward him like the head of a snake. Never had a ball come at him so fast.

  He put his glove down between his legs. But to his horror, the ball zipped right through and continued on into the outfield!

  Bus scrambled to recover it, but it was too late. Beans Malone stood grinning on second base. Bus had blown his chance to impress the All-Star scouts again.

  Fortunately the Dragons’ next three batters got out one, two, three. The score remained tied at two runs apiece.

  Bus was the second batter up for the Mudders. He selected his bat and walked to the on-deck circle. Barry McGee sidled up beside him.

  “You should’ve had that grounder,” he said. “Didn’t anyone ever tell you to keep your tailgate down? Way down?”

  “Cut it, Barry,” T.V. Adams said. “That was a hard-hit ball. If Bus hadstopped it, it would have carried him to the outfield!”

  Thanks, T.V.,Bus wanted to say. He thought about the coach’s warning again, but it was hard to shrug off Barry’s hurtful words.

  Alfie had made it to first. Bus took a few practice swings and stepped into the box.

  I’ve got to try to hit him home!he thought.

  Then he saw Coach Parker signaling him to bunt.

  No!Bus wanted to scream.

  The first two pitches were wild. The third pitch came in at chest level, Bus’s favorite kind. He didn’t think. He just swung as hard as he could.

  Crack!

  A line drive right at the pitcher! Bus dropped the bat and ran as hard as he could to first. But the pitcher had fielded the ball and thrown it to second in time to get Alfie out. Then, like a well-oiled machine, the Dragons’ second baseman threw to first.

  Bus just wasn’t fast enough to beat that throw. In a booming voice,
the umpire called him out. He had caused a double play!

  The coach called him over. “Bus, a good bunt could have advanced Alfie safely to second even though it might have gotten you out. Next time, follow my signal.”

  Bus hung his head and nodded. The dugout was silent as he took his seat among his teammates.

  Bus felt sick. He tried to cheer when first Rudy, then Sparrow got on base. He tried to join in the excitement when Barry hit a home run to change the final score to Mudders 5, Dragons 2. But he just couldn’t. All he could think about was how he had probably ruined his chances to make the All-Star team.

  3

  After the game, Bus picked up his glove and started for home. He’d only walked a block when he heard someone calling his name.

  “Bus! Bus, wait up!”

  T.V. Adams rode toward him on his mountain bike. Bus looked at the bike with envy. It was just what he had asked for for his birthday last month. But instead, his parents had given him a new glove and some books. He liked his gifts, but he couldn’t help being disappointed all the same.

  T.V. patted him on the shoulder. “Hey, Bus, don’t worry about that double play. It could have happened to anyone. Besides, we won the game, didn’t we?”

  “I should’ve paid attention to the coach’s signal,” Bus mumbled. “First an error in the field, then a double play. Looks like you’ll be sitting on the All-Star bench without me.”

  “Oh, yeah? Well, I predict you’ll show those scouts a thing or two in the next game!” T.V. said with a sly grin. Bus had to grin back. T.V.’s “predictions” were legendary, especially when it came to baseball. He’d even been accused of spying once because he always seemed to know things other people didn’t.

  “I sure hope you’re right this time, T.V.,” Bus said with a sigh.

  “Besides,” T.V. continued, “remember what Coach Parker said: No sense in dwelling on things you can’t change.” T.V. thought for a moment. “Think he means we shoulddwell on things we canchange?”

  “But if we knew what we should change, we’d just do it, wouldn’t we?” Bus pointed out.

  “Guess it would depend on what needed changing,” T.V. mused.

  When Bus walked into his kitchen a few minutes later, his mood brightened. His father was cooking up his world-famous spaghetti and meatballs for dinner. Bus wasted no time changing into fresh clothes and joining his parents at the table.

  “Is it a special occasion?” he asked, helping himself to the pasta.

  “How’d you guess?” Mr. Mercer asked. He winked at Mrs. Mercer. She winked back.

  Bus was perplexed. “What’s going on?” he wondered.

  “Oh, nothing too important. Just a little belated birthday ‘something’ waiting for you in the garage. But first,” she added as Bus leapt to his feet, “you have to finish your dinner.”

  Bus groaned and slid back into his chair. After what seemed like hours, he held up his clean plate for inspection.

  “What, don’t you want dessert first?” his father joked.

  Bus rushed out to the garage without bothering to answer. When he flicked on the lights, he couldn’t believe his eyes. There, in the corner by the lawn mower, stood a brand-new mountain bike! The card on the handlebars read “For Bus, with much love from Mom and Dad.”

  “Wow!” Bus yelled. He turned to see his parents standing in the doorway. “It’s great!”

  “We wanted to give it to you on your real birthday, but the bike store didn’t have the right one for you. We had to wait until they got more,” Mrs. Mercer explained. “Better late than never, though! Happy birthday, Bus!”

  Mr.Mercer looked at Bus seriously. “There are a few ground rules that go along with this bike, Bus. Rules that you must obey or else we’ll have to take the bike away from you. First, always wear your helmet. Second, follow the rules of safety and use hand signals. And third and most important, always let us know when and where you’re going riding. Deal?”

  “Deal!” Bus agreed.

  “One last thing,” his mother added. “Stay on the town bike trails and side streets whenever possible. It may take you a little longer to get where you’re going, but at least you’ll be riding where it’s safe. Besides, half the fun of riding somewhere is the riding itself, right?”

  Bus nodded, his eyes shining. He was already mapping out his first bike route — to the baseball diamond for tomorrow’s practice!

  4

  Bus felt like a king when he rode up to the dugout the next day. The Peach Street Mudders crowded around to admire his new bike. Then Coach Parker called for practice to begin.

  Bus spent the next half hour shagging grounders, catching fly balls, and practicing his throws to first, second, third, and home. His fielding was good. Bus thought that if he could play so well during their next game, it would help his chances to make the All-Star team.

  Then he took his turn at bat. He managed to hit a few sizzlers that shot past the infield’s gloves, but he didn’t get the grand-slam homer he was trying for. He was sure his chances of making the All-Star team depended on him making up for his two flubs at bat during the last game.

  The sight of his new bike cheered him up. When practice was over, he strapped his glove onto the back carrier and adjusted his helmet so that it fit snugly on his head. He was about to head for home when T.V. called out to him.

  “Hey, Bus! Want to go over to the batting cage?”

  Bus hesitated for a moment. The batting cage was a fairly long ride from the baseball diamond. But he knew he could use the extra batting practice. And besides, hadn’t his parents said going for long rides was what having a bike was all about?

  “Sure, I’ll come along,” he said.

  “Follow me! I know a good route that avoids the worst hills.” T.V. buckled his helmet onto his head, hopped onto his bike, and pedaled off. Bus was close behind him.

  The two boys stuck to the back roads that wound around the outskirts of town. Before too long, they arrived at the batting cage. They locked their bikes together, then paid a dollar each for a turn at bat. T.V. went first.

  Pow! Pow! Pow!

  T.V. hit his fourteen balls solidly one after another. Then Bus stepped into the cage for his turn.

  Pow! Tic! Tic!

  Bus hit all of his balls, but half of them went foul. I’ve got to do better than this if I’m ever going to make the All-Star team!he growled to himself.

  He was fishing around in his pocket for another dollar when he felt the first raindrop. Only then did he notice that the sky had darkened with storm clouds.

  “C’mon, let’s get out of here!” T.V. yelled. A flash of lightning and a huge crack of thunder sent Bus and T.V. running for their bikes.

  Big fat drops fell on the boys as they started pedaling toward home. Any minute the sky might open up and soak them completely.

  “I know a shortcut,” T.V. panted. “Follow me!” He veered off the bike path onto the main road.

  Bus pulled up short. Suddenly his parents’ rules echoed in his head. To his dismay, he realized he’d already broken one of them by not telling them he was riding to the batting cage. How could he break another one by biking on the main road?

  T.V. braked to a stop. “What are you waiting for? We’re going to get drenched if you don’t hurry up!”

  “But what about the bike path? Can’t we just take that instead?” Bus suggested hopefully.

  “The bike path will take you ten minutes longer than my way! You can ride it if you want, but I’m not going to. I want me and my bike to stay dry!” T.V. looked at Bus impatiently. “Well?”

  Bus glanced at the bike path one more time, then up at the dark sky. I should get my bike out of the rain, too,he thought.

  He took a deep breath and cried, “Okay! Lead the way!”

  5

  The rain had really started to come down. Water splashed onto Bus’s legs and passing cars honked their horns so loudly it made his heart hammer. He pedaled as hard as he could, but T.V. was fa
ster. Bus could barely keep up. Slow down, T.V.!he wanted to cry.

  Then T.V. disappeared around a corner. Bus was caught off guard. He had to pull sharply at his handlebars to make the turn. Wobbling off balance, he braked to a stop to catch his breath.

  What he saw before him made his stomach flip-flop. He was staring down at one of the steepest hills he had ever seen. At the bottom, he could see cars zooming back and forth. T.V. was already halfway down that hill. Bus had no choice but to follow him.

  Bus tested his brakes, then took a deep breath and started down the hill. Raindrops struck his face, but he coasted steadily downward. The traffic at the bottom loomed closer and closer. Bus tried to keep an eye on the pavement in front of him. He dodged one sewer grate after another. Finally a quick glance up told him he was almost safely at the bottom.

  Wham!

  His front wheel plunged into a pothole! Bus’s teeth rattled and his hands bounced off the handlebars for a split second. He squeezed the brakes just in time to stop alongside T.V. at the busy intersection.

  He had made it down safely. But somehow, all he could think of was what his parents would do when they found out.

  Tired and soaked to the skin, he pedaled home and into the driveway just as the garage door opened up.

  His mother and father were standing in the doorway.

  “Bus! We’ve been worried sick about you! Practice was over an hour ago. Where have you been?” his mother asked with just a hint of anger in her voice.

  “I — I was at the batting cage with T.V. We rode over right after practice,” Bus replied.

  “Without telling us? Bus, we asked you only last night to be sure to let us know where you were riding at all times!” His father frowned.

  “I’m sorry. I guess — I guess I made a mistake,” Bus whispered.