On Memorial Day, I would be marching with the Krushers.
Home Run!
At our next Krushers practice, Kristy did what she usually does. First she gave us a pep talk. Then we practiced pitching, hitting, and catching the ball. And then Kristy divided us into two teams: Krushers 1 and Krushers 2.
We played a short game against each other. Andrew and I were both on the Krushers 2 team. We like playing on the same side.
But Andrew did not play very well that day. The first time he went to bat, David Michael pitched the ball to him. It was a good pitch. Andrew swung at it. He did not hit the ball.
Also, he let his bat fly again. No one was hurt. No one was standing anywhere near my brother. Not even the catcher. The catcher was Hannie, and she had told Kristy that she would not catch when Andrew was at bat.
As the bat sailed through the air, Andrew watched it.
“Bullfrogs!” he shouted. He stamped his foot.
“Andrew!” exclaimed Kristy. But then all she added was, “Strike one. Go get your bat.”
Andrew found the bat. David Michael pitched to him again. Andrew swung. He let go of the bat and it landed somewhere near left field.
A couple of kids laughed.
But Kristy was not even smiling. “Andrew,” she said, “hold onto the bat. Never let it fly. If you hit the ball, then just drop the bat, okay?”
“Okay!” Andrew looked like he might cry. “I know I’m supposed to do that. But I can’t help it.”
“Do you want to hit again?” asked Kristy. “You only have — ”
“NO!” cried Andrew. “I’m finished.” He laid his bat on the ground so gently and carefully that it took him about five minutes.
“Don’t worry, Andrew,” I said. “Nobody hits the ball every time.”
“Karen! You’re up next!” called Kristy.
“Okay.” I ran to home plate. I picked up the bat Andrew had been using. “Ready or not, David Michael!” I shouted.
David Michael wound up and pitched the ball. He pitched it much faster than when he had pitched to Andrew.
I kept my eyes on the ball. When the time seemed right, I swung the bat. Hard.
WHACK! I hit the ball! I could not even see where it went. That was how fast it was flying. “Boy …” I said softly.
“Run, Karen!” Kristy cried.
I ran. I touched first base, second base, third base, and finally I was running across home plate.
“Home run!” shouted Kristy.
Everyone began to cheer for me. Even the kids on Krushers 1. I had hit the ball so hard that we could not even find it.
Now, I thought, I will really be happy to march with the Krushers. Maybe my teammates would even start calling me Home Run Karen or something.
I glanced at Andrew. He was sitting alone on the bleachers. His head was in his hands. When the game ended, he was still sitting that way. I tried to make him feel better. “You just had a bad day,” I said.
“I always have bad days,” he replied.
“Oh, that is not so,” I told him. But I was thinking about something else. I was thinking about our big game against the Bashers. I was ready for it.
Roller Blades and Nintendo
A few days later, I was in Ms. Colman’s room, waiting for my teacher to start class. Most of us kids were in the room. But Ms. Colman was not. So I stood around with Hannie and Nancy.
Everyone was talking.
They were talking about the Bicycle Brigade.
“I am going to win first prize,” said Hank Reubens. “You guys will never guess what I’m doing to my bicycle. It will be so, so cool.”
“What are you doing?” I asked.
“I can’t tell you, Karen!” Hank exclaimed. “Then everyone would copy me. Well, I will tell you this much: I need batteries.”
“My bicycle will be making noise,” said Natalie Springer.
“So will mine,” said Bobby Gianelli. “And I need a lot of fake fur. You know, like those coonskin hats.”
“Well, I am not going to say a thing about my bicycle,” spoke up Pamela Harding. (Pamela and I do not like each other.)
“That’s because your head is empty,” said Bobby. “I bet you don’t have any ideas yet.”
“Wrong, birdbrain,” replied Pamela. “I’m almost done decorating my bike. It will win the one hundred dollars. And when it does, I am going to buy a pair of roller blades.”
“No, you’re not,” said Hank. “Because I am going to win the money and buy roller blades.”
“If I won,” said Bobby, “I would buy lots of CDs.”
Nancy turned to me. “Karen?” she said. “What would you do with a hundred dollars? … A hundred dollars?”
“I’m not riding in the Bicycle Brigade,” I told her. “I’m marching with the Krushers. So are Andrew and Kristy and David Michael and Hannie.”
“But just pretend. If you had a hundred dollars, what would you buy?”
“I know what I’d buy,” said Natalie. “A whole bunch of jigsaw puzzles.”
Natalie is such a drip.
“Hey, Ricky!” I called. (Ricky Torres and I got married once. He is my husband.) “What would you buy?”
“Roller blades. No, Nintendo games. Definitely Nintendo games.”
Roller blades and Nintendo games sure sounded like fun.
Loser
I was standing in the outfield again.
I was daydreaming.
In my daydream, I could see myself with a new pair of roller blades. They were gigundo fancy. They were silver with shiny green wheels. I flew along a street. I coasted down a hill….
“Karen!” Kristy was shouting. “Are you paying attention?”
I guess I was not. If I had been paying attention, I would have seen that the other team had struck out. The Krushers were changing sides. I was not supposed to be in the outfield anymore. I was supposed to be in the batting lineup with the kids on Krushers 2.
“Sorry,” I yelled to Kristy. I ran off the field. I took my place behind Andrew. “What’s the score?” I whispered to him.
“Five to four,” he answered. “We’re winning.”
“Good,” I said.
But the Krushers 1 pitcher didn’t let the first three Krushers 2 hitters get any runs. And now it was Andrew’s turn at bat.
“Hold onto it!” I said to my brother. “Do not let go of the bat.”
Andrew set his mouth in a straight line. He looked like he planned to hit a home run.
The pitcher threw the ball.
It was a terrible throw, but Andrew swung at it anyway.
He missed — and he let the bat go flying.
Suddenly I noticed something awful. A man was standing on the edge of the softball diamond. He was watching our practice. Now Andrew’s bat was sailing toward his head.
“DUCK, MISTER!” I yelled at the top of my lungs.
The man ducked. The bat missed him by inches.
“Andrew!” Kristy exclaimed. “I want to talk to you later.”
The man exclaimed something, too. “I’m getting out of here!”
He left.
I was up at bat. But I was not keeping my eye on the ball. I was not concentrating. First I thought about Andrew and the bat and the man. Then I thought about silver-and-green roller blades. Before I knew it, I had struck out.
My side did not get any more runs. The other side did, though. So when I went to bat the next time, I knew I should pay attention. But I couldn’t. I could not stop imagining myself on those roller blades.
“Strike three, you’re out!” Kristy announced. “Game’s over. Practice is over. The Krushers One won this game. Good work, everybody!”
The Krushers 1 had won? That meant I had lost the game for us. What kind of teammate was I? A horrible one, that’s what. A loser.
I carried the bat to Kristy. Kristy was talking to Andrew. “It’s getting dangerous to let you play,” she was saying. (I could tell she felt bad.) But my mind was not on Andrew
or Kristy or flying bats.
“Kristy?” I said when she finished talking with Andrew. “I have to tell you something. I cannot march with the Krushers in the parade. I am a loser.”
“Are you kidding, Karen?” said Kristy. “Are you sure you’re not mad because I talked to Andrew and he is crying?”
“Nope. I’m just a loser. I do not deserve to march with the Krushers.”
“But everybody makes mistakes. Remember what happened to Andrew last week?”
I remembered. But I did not care. I had never lost a game for my team before. I felt awful.
When Mommy picked up Andrew and me that afternoon, we were both crying.
Don’t Give Up
Kristy called me at the little house that night. “Karen,” she said, “I will feel very sad if you don’t march with the Krushers.”
“Why?” I asked. “I struck out. I lost the game for my team.”
“And you are not the first person to make a mistake. That’s one reason I started the Krushers. So you guys could have fun and play softball and not feel embarrassed.”
“But I — ”
“The Krushers are not quitters,” Kristy reminded me. “Please don’t give up, Karen. I’ll miss you if you do. And so will the rest of the team.”
“No, they won’t,” I replied. “No one will miss someone who strikes out and loses games.”
“All right,” said Kristy. “Listen. Think this over for awhile. Don’t make up your mind yet. You might wake up tomorrow feeling like a champion player.”
“I doubt it,” I said. “But I will think about it. I’ll let you know soon.”
“Okay.” Kristy hung up the phone. She sounded sad already.
The next evening, Mommy and Seth came into my room. I was doing some homework. (Ms. Colman gives us homework and we are only in second grade.)
Mommy sat on my bed. Seth sat next to her.
“Is something wrong?” I asked. (I am pretty used to being in trouble.)
“We hear that you don’t want to march in the Memorial Day parade with the rest of the Krushers,” Mommy told me.
“Who said?” I demanded.
“It doesn’t matter. We think you’re being too hard on yourself.”
“Much too hard,” added Seth.
“I can’t help it. Besides, I am still thinking. Maybe I will march with the Krushers.”
“We hope so,” said Mommy.
“Everyone would be very proud of you,” said Seth.
* * *
Even Andrew talked to me about what I was doing. “I’m a terrible player,” he said. “Kristy might not let me play in the game against the Bashers, since I might hurt someone. But I’m still going to march with our team.”
“So?” I was beginning to feel angry.
“All right,” said Andrew. “But if you don’t walk with us, what will you do on Memorial Day? All our brothers and sisters will be in the parade.”
“I’ll watch,” I snapped. “Someone has to watch.”
“Okay-ay,” sang Andrew. He walked out of my room.
I was mad. What Andrew had said was true. If I did not march with the Krushers, I would be the only kid in both of my families who was not in the parade. And I wanted to be in the parade very badly.
I flopped onto my bed. I thought about the Krushers. I thought about the parade. I thought about roller blades. And then I thought about … the Bicycle Brigade!
I could be in the parade after all! I would even have a chance at winning one hundred dollars. Then I could buy silver-and-green roller blades.
But then I thought, Uh-oh. If I ride in the Bicycle Brigade, will my friends think I am being greedy? Will they think I deserted the Krushers just so I could win some money? And did I want to compete against Amanda and Ricky and all my friends?
I did not know.
Karen’s Choice
By the next day I did not know any more than I had known the night before. I had thought and thought and thought about my choice. But I had no answers. Did I deserve to march with the Krushers? Should I risk riding in the Bicycle Brigade? After I thought some more, I began to wonder about something.
How did I know if I was good enough to ride in the brigade? After all, the kids in my class needed batteries and all sorts of things to decorate their bikes. What could I do that would be just as good?
I would have to experiment.
I found paper, scissors, glue, crepe paper, clothespins, and some old baseball cards. I took everything into the garage. Then I sat down next to my little-house bicycle.
“Hmm,” I said.
I picked up the roll of pink crepe paper. I would the paper around my handlebars. That looked very beautiful.
Then I fastened baseball cards to the spokes of the wheels. I held them in place with the clothespins. I moved my bike back and forth.
BRRRRR went the wheels!
“Nice sound effect,” I said.
I sat down again. I looked at my baskets. I looked at the colored paper. I thought that paper butterflies on the bike baskets would be gigundo pretty.
I was trying to figure out how to make butterflies when a voice called, “Karen!”
I whirled around.
Nancy was standing in the doorway to the garage.
“What are you doing?” she asked.
“Um.” (I know I was blushing.) “I’m deciding whether I want to ride in the Bicycle Brigade on Memorial Day.”
“But how could you? You’re a Krusher. You’re supposed to march with your team. Plus, I’m going to ride in the brigade. I don’t want to compete against you.”
“I don’t want to compete against you, either,” I said in a small voice. “Or Amanda or Ricky or Natalie or anyone.”
“So march with the Krushers. Does Kristy know you’re thinking about riding in the brigade?”
“No,” I whispered.
“I just don’t get it,” said Nancy. She crossed her arms.
“Well, I don’t think I deserve to march with the Krushers,” I told her. “I’m a loser. And anyway, when did you decide to ride in the parade? You never said you were going to do that.”
“It was a secret.”
“Why?”
Nancy shrugged. “Just because.”
“You know, you can’t make me march with the Krushers.”
“Did I say I could?” asked Nancy.
“No…. But you don’t look very happy.”
“Well, I’m not. You’re a greedy-guts, Karen!” (This was not the first time I had been called that.) “You are supposed to walk with your softball team in the parade. But you are going to desert them. You just want to win the prize money.”
“That’s not true!” I cried. “I want to be in the parade, that’s all. I mean, I would like a hundred dollars — ”
“See?” shouted Nancy. (Nancy almost never gets angry.) “Good-bye, Karen!”
“Good! Bye! And don’t steal my baseball-card idea.”
“That is so lame,” Nancy called over her shoulder. “Everyone knows how to do that.”
Boo.
Karen’s Jinx
I felt worse than ever. I did not think I should march with the Krushers. I was not a good enough player. Oh, sure. I had hit a home run. And Andrew was not a good player at all. Neither were lots of the Krushers. But they didn’t lose entire games for their sides. Well, Andrew had. But not because he was daydreaming. You are not supposed to daydream when you play softball.
And now I did not really want to ride in the Bicycle Brigade, either. I did not want to be called a greedy-guts. I did not want Nancy to be mad at me. And I certainly did not want to ride a “lame” bicycle.
But I did want to be in the parade.
I sighed. Then I took all the stuff off my bike. I carried the things into the little house, and I put them away.
Andrew was inside. He was looking through a picture book. When he saw me, he stopped. “Karen? I’m bored,” he said. “Would you help me with my hitting? I really need p
ractice.”
“Okay. Let’s find the bat and ball. We can practice in the backyard.”
“Goody!” exclaimed Andrew. “Goody, goody gumdrops!”
In the backyard, Andrew stood ready with the bat. I stood opposite him with the softball.
I was wearing a football helmet. It was to protect me from flying bats.
“Okay, Andrew! Batting stance!”
Andrew got ready.
“Hold onto the bat!” I yelled. “Now. Here comes the ball.”
I pitched an easy one to Andrew. He swung and missed. The bat took off. It sailed into our fence.
“Get the pets inside!” I cried. If Andrew could not control the bat, then Rocky and Midgie should not be around. So Andrew and I found them and put them in the house. Then Andrew got ready to swing at another ball.
“DO. NOT. LET. GO. OF. THE. BAT!” I screeched.
“Okay, okay.”
But guess what happened. Andrew let the bat fly again. (Of course.) This time it sailed through Seth’s flower garden. It landed somewhere beyond the garden. Andrew and I could not even see it.
We ran to the garden. “Andrew! You have killed a peony!” I exclaimed.
My brother looked at the peony plant. Its one huge pink blossom lay in the dirt. “Uh-oh,” said Andrew.
“You better tell Mommy,” I said.
“Do I have to?”
“Yup.”
I found the bat. Andrew and I headed for the house. Before we reached the back door, Mommy opened it. “Karen! Phone for you!” she called.
So I ran to pick up the phone, while Andrew told Mommy what he had done.
“Hi, it’s Kristy,” said the voice at the other end of the line. “I just wanted to let you and Andrew know that our next practice will actually be a trial game against the Bashers. You know, to get everybody warmed up.”
“But, Kristy. I’m a jinx on the Krushers,” I said.
“You are not!”
I didn’t believe Kristy. I decided something, though. I decided that I would play in the trial game against the Bashers. If I did well, then I would play in the big game. I would march in the parade with the Krushers, too.