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  “Have you noticed anything different about Shari and Karen?” Penny asked, trying to keep her nervous excitement under control.

  “Well, they certainly played much better softball in today’s game than in any games before this,” Faye observed.

  “Yes, but I’m talking about something else,” Penny said. “Something about their behavior. Particularly after they got their hits.”

  Faye paused and relaxed her grip on Penny’s hand. Penny stopped and looked at her. “Penny, just what are you trying to say?”

  “Well, think,” said Penny seriously. “If you got a double, or a home run, and the crowd cheered for you like crazy, wouldn’t you smile at them, or tip your cap at them? Wouldn’t you do something to show your appreciation?”

  “Yes. I think I would.”

  “I think you would, too. I think most kids would. But did Shari or Karen? No.”

  Faye’s green eyes went wide, and her mouth parted in a tiny oval. “Hey! Now that you mention it, I did notice that! But — ” She tipped her head down slightly and narrowed her eyes to slits. “I don’t know what you’re driving at, Penny. But I think you’re making something out of nothing. Maybe Shari and Karen are having a hot streak and can’t get over the shock themselves.” She started running ahead of Penny. “Sorry, but I feel my stomach touching sides, and you know what that means! See ya later, alligator!”

  Penny stood, watching Faye racing through the gate and down the sidewalk, locks of her red hair bobbing beneath the back of her softball cap. Penny frowned, thinking, Maybe Faye’s right. Maybe I am making something out of nothing. But it sure is funny the way those two girls have suddenly started acting.

  She continued through the gate and was on the sidewalk when she heard a familiar voice calling her name. “Hey, Penny! Wait a minute!”

  She spun and saw Harold Dempsey running toward her, carrying his scorebook. Suddenly the scorebook gave her an idea, so she didn’t mind waiting, even though her stomach was touching sides, too.

  “Thanks, Penny!” Harold exclaimed breathlessly as he popped around the open gate and stopped beside her. “Man! I’m out of shape!”

  Penny flashed a grin. “You need more exercise, Harold,” she said amiably. “Just sitting in front of that computer won’t do it, you know.”

  He smiled. “I know.”

  “May I look at that scorebook a minute?” she asked, reaching for it.

  “Sure.”

  She turned to the second page, which showed the box scores of the Hawks’ first game, glanced at Karen Keech’s name at the top, and read off Karen’s at-bat record silently. No hits.

  Penny ran her forefinger down the lineup column to Shari Chung’s name, read her statistics, and saw that Shari had gotten one hit. She turned to the next page and saw that Karen had not gotten a hit in that game either, and neither had Shari. Karen had broken her hitless streak in the third game — against the Comets last Friday — getting two singles. Shari had gotten three hits, including a triple.

  “Checking on somebody’s hitting record, Penny?” Harold asked, his deep voice more like an adult’s than a kid’s.

  “Yes. But — ” Penny cut herself off short. Why should she tell Harold her discovery, anyway? He wouldn’t know what she was talking about.

  “But what?” he asked.

  “But nothing,” she replied. She closed the scorebook and handed it back to him. “Thanks, Harold. You’re a king . . . or a prince . . . or whatever. Well, I’ve got to get home and shower. See you at the next game. Okay?”

  “Penny, wait!” Harold shouted after her as she started to run off. “I want to ask you something!”

  She stopped, turned, and watched him walking hurriedly toward her. “Ask me what?”

  He cleared his throat. “Will you go to a movie with me this Saturday afternoon? There’s a good adventure — ”

  “A movie? With you? Are you — ” Penny almost said “crazy” but caught herself in time. “Sorry, Harold,” she went on, blushing slightly. “I . . . ah . . . I think I’m going to be busy Saturday afternoon. But, thanks, anyway. Okay? See you!”

  She turned and sprinted away, grabbing her cap before the wind could blow it off. Imagine Harold asking me to go to a movie with him, she thought. What nerve! Now, if that were Jonny . . .

  FOUR

  SHORTLY AFTER SEVEN O’CLOCK that evening, Penny telephoned Karen. She couldn’t get the thought of her strange behavior out of her mind, and figured that the best way to get to the root of the matter was to talk to her personally.

  Mrs. Keech answered.

  “This is Penny Farrell,” said Penny. “Can I talk to Karen, please?”

  “Karen’s in her room, Penny,” Mrs. Keech answered. She had a soft, low-pitched voice that made her sound as if she were holding the telephone too far away. “She doesn’t feel well.”

  “Oh. I’m sorry,” said Penny.

  “Nothing serious, I don’t think,” Mrs. Keech went on. “She played a pretty hard game this afternoon, Jonny said, and must be tired. Any message you want me to give her?”

  “No. I just wanted to talk with her, that’s all. Thank you.”

  “I’ll tell her you called,” Mrs. Keech said.

  “No, that’s okay,” Penny said quickly. “You don’t need to.”

  She hung up, feeling no different now than she had before she talked with Mrs. Keech. Except that even Mrs. Keech did not seem to suspect anything unnatural in Karen’s behavior.

  Karen ill? Perhaps, but it’s not the kind of illness I’ve ever seen before, Penny thought. Nobody can be ill and play the kind of ball game that Karen had played. Or Shari, either, for that matter.

  I wonder if I’ll ever know the truth, Penny thought. Does Jonny know? Penny tried to imagine the conversation that might have taken place if he had answered the telephone instead of his mother. It might have fizzled like a damp fuse, she thought. What can I do to make him notice me?

  She went into the living room and glanced at the tall, oak-brown grandfather clock standing in the far corner. It was almost a quarter after seven.

  Her mother and father were sitting in their favorite easy chairs, watching television. They glanced up at her, and Mrs. Farrell smiled. “I heard you ask about Karen, dear. Is she all right?”

  Mrs. Farrell was a tall, slim woman with warm brown eyes, heavy eyebrows, and wavy black hair that Penny had so often wished she had inherited.

  “She’s in bed,” Penny answered. “Played a hard game, her mother thinks.”

  “Well, didn’t you?” said Mr. Farrell.

  Penny glanced at her father, saw his hazel eyes twinkling, and shrugged. “Maybe she didn’t feel well during the game,” Penny replied, just to say something.

  Mr. Farrell grinned, pushed back a strand of blond hair that had fallen over his face, and resumed watching TV.

  “Okay if I ride my bike over to Faye’s?” Penny asked, shooting her eyes from her mother to her father to show them that her question was impartial.

  “Of course. Just watch out for traffic,” her mother said warningly.

  “And get home before dark,” her father added.

  Penny smiled at them. “Don’t I always?” she said. She turned and darted out of the room to the back door.

  Penny got her bike out of the two-car garage and rode down the street toward Faye’s house. But when she reached the intersection of Teall and Meadow, she turned left. The Keeches lived in the fourth house on the right on Meadow Street, and maybe, just maybe, Jonny would be out there in the backyard, mowing the lawn or something.

  Penny rode past the house, glancing over the hedgerow into the backyard, hoping . . . hoping . . .

  Her heart skipped a beat as she saw Jonny. He was out there! Playing catch with someone!

  “Hi, Jonny!” she cried, excitement in her voice.

  He looked around at her and waved. Then Penny saw whom he was playing catch with. It was Karen!

  Well! Penny thought, surprised. She certainl
y got well quickly!

  Penny braked, pulled up to the curb, and got off the bike. “Hi, Karen!” she called.

  Karen caught her brother’s throw, glanced briefly at Penny, said hi, and returned the throw to Jonny. She showed no emotion whatever — neither pleasure nor displeasure at seeing Penny. Penny was more certain now than ever that something was wrong with Karen.

  She stood balancing herself, one foot on a pedal, the other on the street, wanting desperately to go and talk with Karen. But Karen’s impassive, cool attitude held her back. Penny thought that if Jonny would only invite her into their yard, her problem might easily be solved. But he didn’t.

  “Played a terrific game today, Karen,” Penny said, breaking the awkward silence.

  “Thank you.”

  The reply was soft, almost inaudible.

  “We should’ve won the game,” Penny added.

  “I know.”

  Jonny caught the next pitch from Karen, folded the fingers of his glove firmly over the ball, and grinned across at his sister. “Well, I’ve had enough,” he said. “How about you?”

  “Yes.” Karen turned and started to head for the house, and Jonny looked at Penny. “How you doing?”

  Penny shrugged. “Okay.” She couldn’t think of anything else to say for a moment.

  “Mom said you called and asked about Karen,” Jonny went on in that pleasant, velvety voice of his. His straight blond hair was a little unruly in front, dangling over his forehead, and his nose seemed to be too small for his wide face. But his smile now overshadowed that minor oversight of nature’s, and Penny smiled back.

  “Well, she . . . she didn’t seem to be saying much, and I just wondered if she was okay,” Penny said, feeling uncomfortable and nervous.

  “She was a little tired,” said Jonny. “But she rested awhile and is fine now. Thanks for asking.” He headed for the house. “Take care.”

  “You, too,” said Penny. She watched him as he walked toward the back door, then she got on her bike and rode off. He knows there’s something fishy about Karen, too, Penny thought. He knows as well as I do. Why doesn’t he say something?

  Penny found Faye and Mrs. Marsh trimming rosebushes in their backyard.

  “Uh oh,” Penny muttered, remaining on her bike as she watched mother and daughter from the narrow sidewalk leading to their back door. “I guess I should have telephoned.”

  Faye and her mother glanced up simultaneously. Both smiled, surprised to see her. “Oh, hi!” said Faye. “Telephoned? Why?”

  Penny grinned. “I never dreamed you’d be working.”

  “You call this work?” Faye cried. “I’m cutting in on Mom’s hobby. And you know what? It’s fun!”

  Mrs. Marsh straightened up, moved her shoulders back and forth, and stroked away some of her straight black hair, which had fallen over her slender, cheerful face.

  “If it’s so much fun, how come I’ve trimmed three bushes so far, and you only one?” Mrs. Marsh asked, and smiled. “Go on. Get your bike and go riding with Penny. I’m sure you’d rather do that than trim rosebushes anyway, in spite of the fun.”

  “No! Please!” Penny cried, getting off her bike and putting down the kickstand. “I didn’t mean to interfere. I’ll just stay here and watch. Okay?”

  Faye looked at her mother. “Do we have another pair of trimmers, Mom?” she asked coyly.

  “Unfortunately, no,” replied her mother, smiling.

  “In that case,” said Faye, turning back to Penny, “you can watch and take some lessons, all for free. There’s a bench under that tree you can sit on.”

  Penny laughed, went to the bench, and sat down. After a while she began to feel bored. She wanted to discuss with Faye the people she had come here to discuss: Shari and Karen. But she didn’t dare to bring up the subject of the girls’ super softball playing in Mrs. Marsh’s presence. The woman would think that her daughter, and her daughter’s friend, had gone bananas.

  So, for almost half an hour, Penny sat there and watched them trim rosebushes. Who cared what strains of virus the pregnant Mrs. Nelson had, anyway? Or whether she was going to have two babies, or three? Nothing was more important right now than finding out what had happened to the two girls on the Tall Oaks Hawks softball team.

  FIVE

  THE HAWKS PRACTICED on one of the four softball fields at the Municipal Athletic Center on Saturday afternoon, a hot, eighty-eight-degree, you-can-fry-an-egg-on-the-sidewalk kind of day. But one player was missing: Faye Marsh.

  “Got any idea why Faye isn’t here, Penny?” Coach Parker asked, probably knowing that the two girls were close friends.

  “No, I don’t. And I just saw her Thursday evening,” Penny replied, puzzled.

  Faye had not even given her a hint that she would not attend practice today. Perhaps she hadn’t known then what she’d be doing two days later. Or maybe she came down with one of those viruses she had been talking about, Penny thought wryly.

  “Debbie!” Coach Parker called to a brown-haired girl playing catch. “Take second base for infield practice. Move!”

  “Yes, sir!”

  Debbie Brohill, one of the Hawks’ three substitutes, broke into a run from near the dugout to the infield, her long, skinny legs flying. If she could hit and catch as well as she could run, Penny was sure the coach would have her start every game instead of Faye. Maybe she’ll develop in those areas, Penny thought, and give Faye something to worry about.

  “Okay, everybody at their positions!” the coach ordered, picking up a softball and a bat from a pile near the dugout and going to the plate. “Outfielders to the boondocks! Jack Grayson will hit them out to you!”

  Jack Grayson, a tall, dark-haired kid wearing a letter-sweater with a TO on it — for Tall Oaks — was a high school athlete who sometimes helped Coach Parker out with fielding practice. He picked up a bat and went to the right side of the plate to hit flies to the outfielders.

  Penny glanced across at Karen and tried to catch her gaze, but Karen seemed absolutely aloof. Penny thought she’d say something to her anyway before the coach started the practice.

  “Hi, Karen! How you doing?”

  Karen looked at her, her face blank. “Fine, thanks,” she said, and focused her attention back on the coach.

  “Good,” Penny replied, but hardly loud enough for Karen to hear her. I just don’t understand it, she thought. Karen’s acting exactly as she had during the game on Thursday.

  “Okay, Penny!” Coach Parker yelled. “Get one!”

  He knocked a fast, bouncing ball down to her, which she fielded perfectly and whipped over to first. Jean Zacks, standing with one foot on the bag, caught it and threw the ball home. Shari caught it, shot it to Penny, and Penny pegged it back to her.

  The routine continued with Karen next, then Debbie, and so on, and was repeated several times before Coach Parker decided that his infielders had had enough.

  “Okay, twice around the field,” he commanded. “Then take off.”

  Whew! Penny thought, feeling hot, achy, and tired from the grueling practice. What does he want to do? Kill us?

  But they all made the run, and none died from it.

  Penny thought about calling Faye after she got home from practice and took a shower. If Faye had come down with some virus, she would appreciate a word or two of sympathy. Especially from her best friend.

  But nobody answered the phone on Faye’s end when Penny called. Even after ten rings. Maybe she wasn’t ill after all, Penny thought. Maybe she and her parents went shopping. Or to visit friends.

  Penny didn’t see Faye again until the Hawks — Hard Hats game on Tuesday afternoon.

  “Hey! How you doing?” Penny cried, rushing over to Faye and grabbing her hands.

  Faye stood and looked at her. Faye didn’t have the familiar smile on her face that Penny expected to see. Or that pink glow in her cheeks, that gleam in her eyes. She was totally expressionless. Emotionless. “Hi, Penny,” she said, robotlike.

  P
enny stared at her, feeling a tingling in her arms, a shiver shooting through her body like a weak charge of electricity.

  “Faye,” she whispered softly, “are you all right?”

  Only Faye’s lips moved. “I’m okay,” she said. Her voice was lukewarm. Almost cold.

  Fear gripped Penny. Oh, no! she thought. Not you, too, Faye! Not you, my best friend!

  “Faye! What’s happened to you?” she cried, tension seizing her. “Please tell me! What’s changed you?”

  Before Penny could say more, Faye, silent, yanked her hands out of Penny’s and headed briskly toward the dugout.

  SIX

  THE HARD HATS HAD FIRST BATS, and June Cato, their leadoff hitter, cracked out a double on the first pitch. Coach Parker had Mary Ann Dru pitching again for the Hawks, because, Penny figured, it had been five days since she had pitched a game and it wouldn’t hurt her arm. She had more speed and better control than Edie Moser, the Hawks’ other pitcher, and was even a little better at the plate. Edie would pitch on Thursday.

  “Bear down, Mary Ann!” Penny shouted from third. “Bear down!”

  The Hard Hats’ Effie Moon drove a Texas leaguer over short that sure looked as if it were going for a hit. But Karen raced out beyond the bare ground of the infield, stretched her gloved hand far out in front of her, and made the catch.

  The crowd went wild.

  I can’t believe it, Penny thought. She really robbed that batter of a hit!

  T. K. Ellis walked on five pitches, bringing up Barbara Nelson, the Hard Hats’ homerun queen. The outfielders moved back about five or six steps each, and even Penny stepped back on the grass.

  Barbara connected solidly with a hot grounder toward short. Karen scooped it up and shot it to Faye covering second base, and Faye relayed it to first. Penny thought it was the fastest double play she’d ever seen the girls pull off.

  “Beautiful fielding, Karen!” she exclaimed as the girls ran off the field together. “Both plays were terrific!”

  “Thanks,” Karen said, again as deadpan as if she made such catches in every game.