Jack roared like a lion, and lowered his voice to what he presumed must be a very terrifying level. "You? must? yield! Yield, good sir!"
"Very well," Coach gasped. He flailed his limbs uselessly. "I yield, I yield!"
Chapter Seven
Old Friends
Jack bellowed in triumph. With victory in hand, the Beans began rolling from the pig-pile, detangling their arms and legs from the mess. Finally, the flattened body of Coach was revealed at the bottom, and he weakly staggered to his feet.
"Lunatic children," he muttered to himself, as he placed a hand against his back and stretched.
Coach hobbled over to where Nibbler lay, chewing upon his glasses. The dog eyeballed Coach with complete innocence, and continued his nibbling.
Mr. Murray hurried over, apologizing profusely. "Sorry about that, Coach!"
He stooped down and retrieved the glasses from Nibbler, who relinquished them willingly enough. Drool dangled from the spectacles, but other than the excess saliva and some light tooth marks, they appeared to be more or less undamaged. Mr. Murray offered them forth to Coach.
"Er? sorry, Bob," he said, smiling with a bit much pleasure. "Looks like the kids got the best of you there, eh?"
Mr. Murray often called Coach by his first name, for they had known each other an awfully long time? ever since the first grade, when they had begun attending Hollow Oak Elementary together.
"No harm done, Leo," Coach said. He took the glasses, shook the spit from them, and returned them to his face. "I know that crazed beast can be a handful, even when he's on a leash!"
"You better believe it," Mr. Murray agreed.
As the Beans were scrambling about the grass, retrieving their dropped gloves and caps, another adult strolled onto the infield. He was tall and fit, and he wore a crisp, light brown uniform, with a shiny star affixed high on his shirt.
A wide-brimmed hat covered his head, and his thumbs were hitched into the large belt that he wore about his waist, weighted down with all kinds of fancy doodads. The large lenses of aviator sunglasses concealed his eyes, and he had a clean cut, square jaw. His name was Chief Fresco, and he was the father of Sara and Maria. Coach called him the lawman of Hollow Oak.
"Well," Chief Fresco said, as he surveyed the chaos. He rubbed at his square jaw, and laughed. "You want to press charges, Coach? Looks like you were thoroughly whipped by an unruly gang of schoolchildren."
Coach stretched out, placing a hand at his lower back and groaning. "What? Nonsense! I was clearly about to attain the upper hand, you see."
"Oh, is that what it was?" Chief Fresco asked, grinning widely.
"Maybe you should press charges," Mr. Murray suggested. "I can see the headline in the newspaper now? Coach Bob Bandernath fails to maintain order. Mutiny ensues."
As Chief Fresco and Mr. Murray chuckled, Coach shook his head in disbelief. "Oh, a pair of comedians, eh? How lucky I am. I have a couple of regular jesters in my court. I didn't realize just how hilarious the two of you are!"
Continuing to chuckle, Mr. Murray and Chief Fresco closed in on Coach, until they had him trapped in a colossal bear hug between the two of them.
"What's the meaning of this?" Coach demanded, as he struggled to escape.
"You need to work out the kinks in your spine!" Mr. Murray explained, as he lifted Coach upon his own back, stretching him out.
Chief Fresco helped to balance this operation, and nodded his head in agreement. "Yep. It's science. Medical science. It's for your own good, Coach," he said, as he began to apply a noogie.
Nibbler circled the three of them, woofing in approval, while the Green Beans hollered with glee.
Like Mr. Murray, Chief Fresco had known Coach since they were children. They had all attended school together in the town of Hollow Oak. Afterward, they had gone to college, and started families in the town, maintaining their strong bonds of friendship the entire time.
But though they had aged, a large part of them had never truly grown up. They were certainly adults, and had assumed all the responsibilities that went with the world of grownups, but there remained within them a strong presence of the children they had once been, filled with wonder for the world around them. At times like this, when they reverted to the playfulness of their youth, it was as if the three of them were children again.
"Okay, Beans, good practice today. See you tomorrow for the game!" Coach called, as he was jostled upon the back of Mr. Murray, and Chief Fresco continued to administer the noogie, with what was surely an expert (and well-practiced) hand.
Chapter Eight
The Neighborhood
As Neil walked home with his dad, he lugged a large duffle bag over one shoulder. The bag was nearly as big as Neil, and it seemed to weigh just about as much as him, too.
It was loaded with all sorts of gear that belonged to the Green Beans? balls, and bats, and helmets. Neil had to lean forward as he carried it, and it bumped against the backs of his knees as he walked. But he didn't mind the hard work. His dad called this cross-training. It took a lot of effort, and it worked the arms, the legs, and the ever-important core? all at once!
Neil's dad walked beside him, carrying his own duffle bag full of gear. Though it was just as large and heavy as the one that Neil carried, his dad had far less trouble hauling it (though he did continue to sweat quite profusely).
Coach whistled while he walked, carrying the tune of "Centerfield" by John Fogerty. Neil walked much faster than his dad, in order to compensate for the difference in their strides. He took two steps for every one that his dad took, leaning forward to support the weight of the duffle bag, breathing hard with the exertion of it.
"Whew!" he exclaimed. "I'm gonna have one heck of a strong core by the end of the season, Dad."
Coach chuckled. "Yep. I reckon that's probably true. You have a great work ethic, Neil."
As father and son left the baseball field behind them, they soon came upon the school that the Beans attended. Built from brick, it was a one-story building shaped like an "L", and it was called Hollow Oak Elementary.
Class had been dismissed two hours previous, so the school was now quiet. Empty, yellow buses were lined up in the paved area beside the school, and the playground was silent.
Just as Neil now attended school there with Jack, Sara, Maria, and the rest of the Green Beans, his dad had once done the same with Mr. Murray and Chief Fresco. For both Neil and his dad, the school was a place that triggered feelings of happiness and humor, for the times they had enjoyed there.
Following the end of school, Neil and his fellow Green Beans would run the short distance to the adjacent ball field, where Coach would be waiting for them. They would practice for two hours nearly every day, unless if they had a game to play against another team.
Some of the players would need to get picked up by their parents at the end of practice and driven home, but Neil and his dad were lucky. They could simply walk home. Their house was only a half of a mile from the school.
Soon, they turned from Pinewood Way (the road that the school was on) onto Maple Lane, where their house was located. As Neil hiked down the road, the duffle bag bumping against the backs of his knees, heaving with exertion, he studied the woods that lay on both sides of the pavement.
True to the names that the streets had been given, there were trees aplenty. Thick with underbrush and dark green growth, there were maples, and oaks, and hemlocks. There were willows, and white birches, and great, ancient pine trees, towering over all.
The forest of his neighborhood was a place where Neil had spent countless afternoons, playing and exploring with his friends. But now, all those hours that he had spent within seemed sort of irrelevant.
After all, even though he had explored quite a bit of the forest in the neighborhood, it was really only the tip of the iceberg (an expression that his dad sometimes liked to use). Neil found himself wondering exactly how far back the woods went. And what secrets (or beasts!) they might hide.
&
nbsp; Were there curious eyes on him, even now, he wondered? Rustle-rustle-rush-crush, he heard, ever so faintly, in his ears. Or was it simply his imagination?
"Circus animals," Neil muttered to himself, as he eyed the woods with a speculative mind.
"What's that?" his dad asked, turning his head and raising one gray-streaked, bushy eyebrow.
"Oh! Uh? what do you think the odds are of some big ol' animals running amok in these woods, Dad?" Neil asked, as he struggled to adjust the duffle bag over his shoulder.
"Hmm?" Coach pondered this question with a great deal of thought, stroking his beard in concentration. "Well? I suppose there's apt to be some big critters back there. What exactly did you have in mind?"
"I dunno, Dad. But I think something might have gotten loose back there. Gone on some kind of a rampage, perhaps. I thought I heard something today when I was out in centerfield. And later, when I was at the plate, I saw the trees swaying, like something was pushing them around. I'm telling you, I think there's something back there!"
"Interesting? very interesting," Coach said, continuing to stroke his beard with one hand, and haul the team's gear with the other. Unlike a lot of other adults, he always paid attention to what Neil had to say, no matter the subject matter. "Let me know if you find any other clues, Neil."
"Oh, yeah, will do!" Neil said, happy that his dad was taking an interest in the matter. Sara and Maria seemed to have thought he might have gone bonkers or something.
Maple Lane came to an end in a cul-de-sac. The road formed a large circle where it ended, so cars could loop around and go back toward Pinewood Way. Located in this cul-de-sac, there were several houses, one of which belonged to Neil, his dad, and his mom.
Also in the cul-de-sac were homes that belonged to Jack and his dad, and Sara and Maria's family, all of whom were already entering their houses. They were well ahead of Neil and Coach, being unhindered by the weight of the team's gear, and having received a lift home in Chief Fresco's police cruiser. Neil could hear Sara and Maria's mother calling to them for dinner? which reminded him that his own stomach was painfully empty, and growling for grub.
"All seems to be well with Fort Balderdash," Coach commented.
Neil looked to the treehouse that was lodged in the fork of a great maple, between his own house and Jack's. It was known as Fort Balderdash, a refuge and command center for young adventurers. "Yep," he agreed.
As they approached the stone walkway that crossed the front lawn and led to their house, Neil sighed with a weary contentment. Though tired from a long day of school, baseball practice, and hauling outrageous amounts of gear, he was happy.
Before opening the door to their house, he looked back over his shoulder, taking it all in: The cul-de-sac, where he was lucky enough to have his best friends live beside him. The robust forest that surrounded them from all sides, ripe for adventuring. The quiet road, a short distance from the school and the ball field that he loved.
He felt safe here. He felt happy here. And he felt at home here. For Neil, and his family, and his friends, this was home. This was their neighborhood.
Chapter Nine
A Meal Fit for Kings
"Boys! Please, slow down," Neil's mom begged of her son, and of Jack.
With what appeared to be a speed that was nearly superhuman, Neil and Jack were shoveling steaming, hot macaroni and cheese into their mouths. Possessed by a ravenous hunger, they barely paused to chew, gulping the sustenance down with fantastic enthusiasm.
"But, Mom!" Neil mumbled, his mouth filled with cheese-laden macaroni. "It's just so darned good!"
"Mmm," Jack murmured in agreement, his head lowered to just above his plate, so as to minimize the distance that his fork had to travel.
"Well, thank you," she said. "But I wish you would take the time to chew it a little more thoroughly. We can't have you boys choking, don'tcha know?"
"Ah, they'll be fine. These boys need to fuel their growth, you see? They're working extra hard on the field," Coach said from his place at the table. He mumbled something about the speedy metabolism of youth, while grabbing his own forkful of macaroni and cheese.
It was true that Neil and Jack used up tremendous amounts of energy over the course of a day. It seemed that whenever they were not behind their desks in class, they were constantly on the move. So long as there was daylight to be found, it was almost certain that they would be getting dirt on their faces somehow. Whether running about and crashing through the woods, or playing baseball, or engaging in any one of a great number of other games, they were sparkplugs of energy.
It was good to be ten years old? with dirty elbows, scraped knees, and high energy. Due to their constant activity, they were lean and wiry, despite their terrific appetites. Neil and Jack burned up so much energy, they could eat macaroni and cheese until they felt fit to burst!
Neil's mom, Loretta, sighed in resignation, knowing that she was outnumbered. "Well, just try to enjoy it a little, boys. You're not really chewing your food, so much as you're inhaling it!"
Not long after Neil and Coach had returned home, Loretta had served dinner, which consisted of the aforementioned delicious macaroni and cheese, as well as a garden salad with a selection of tasty dressings. It was, as Neil had previously declared upon witnessing the spread, a meal fit for kings.
Joining Neil and his parents for dinner were Jack and his own dad, Mr. Murray. They often came from next door at suppertime. This was because, as Neil's mom had explained it, Mr. Murray was but a misguided single dad, and hardly capable of cooking an edible meal.
Mr. Murray had once contested this theory, referencing some vague "special" that he occasionally prepared. But Jack had been quick to debunk the testimony of his dad, by wrapping his hands around his own throat and mimicking a gagging noise. It was a rather telling sign, to say the least.
As far as Neil and Jack were concerned, Mr. Murray's inability to cook was a good thing. For it often resulted in the two friends being able to spend more time together. What was better than having your best buddy come over nearly every night for dinner, followed by a joint effort of conquering your homework and (last, but not least) video games? The answer, in the opinion of the boys, was pretty simple: nothing!
Nibbler also came along, where he lay beneath the table, ever hopeful of a scrap falling to the floor. It had long ago become clear that Labradoodles enjoyed macaroni and cheese as much as people did. Neil and Jack could feel the dog's tail under the table, thumping in rhythm against their feet.
Other than enjoying dinner together, there was another reason for Jack and his dad to come over in the evenings. The friendship of Neil's dad and Jack's dad was one that was long and unwavering. Not only had they known each other since the first grade, but they had remained close ever since, for thirty-five years.
Nowadays, they also worked together, at the sneaker factory that Coach owned and operated in Hollow Oak. Mr. Murray was his most trusted employee and advisor, and he served as vice president. In the evenings, they often tried to catch up on the seemingly unending piles of paperwork that the managing of the company produced.
Even now, there were stacks of paper and envelopes all over the dinner table, weighted down with bowls of food and glasses of cold milk. Coach and Mr. Murray ate their meals in a distracted manner, with much of their attention diverted from the food to a collection of papers that were inked with figures, charts, and plenty of text.
From the frequent discussions he had heard between his dad, his mom, and Mr. Murray, Neil had long ago gathered that it was a constant struggle to balance the books. Apparently, that meant managing all the financial obligations that running a sneaker factory entailed. There were a lot of expenses, from what Neil had been able to gather, though his parents never discussed such things with him directly.
"Hmm?" Coach said thoughtfully, as he tapped a pen against a graph before him. A leaf of lettuce and a large slice of tomato had become ensnared in his beard, although he took no notice of such min
or matters. "Looks like the new cleats project is really eating up a lot of our cash reserves, eh, Leo?"
"Agreed," Mr. Murray said, nodding his head. "It's going to be real tight? but we can make it work, if we juggle some things around."
"We're going to have to do everything we can to make it through these next few months. Once the new cleats venture starts bringing in revenue, we should be in good shape?" Coach said, as he stroked his chin in thought, inadvertently smearing the lettuce and tomato through his beard.
Neil and Jack wolfed down the last of what was on their plates, and washed it down with milk.
"Can we be excused, Mom?" Neil asked. He was already halfway out of his seat, his muscles tensed, braced for release.
"But there's still dessert," Loretta protested. "Don't you boys want dessert?"
"We'll eat it later," Neil promised. "We have to get online and get ready to play baseball."
"Sure, boys," Loretta said. "But you make sure that you do your homework before you start playing your video games, okay? You need to do well in school, don'tcha know?"
"Okay, Mom," Neil said. "Thanks for the mac and cheese!"
"Yeah, thanks, Mrs. Bandernath," Jack said. "Dinner was superb, as always."
The boys pounced from their chairs, hurriedly clearing their dirty dishes. They rinsed them in the sink, threw them inside the dishwasher, and were off for the den of the house at a full sprint, sliding over the hardwood floors in their socks.
Nibbler followed behind, woofing happily, wagging his tail both for joy and as a means of balancing his body on the slippery floor. Nonetheless, he soon fell to his belly, where he slid into the den, barking his assurance to the boys that he was right behind them.
Chapter Ten
Gluttons for Punishment
"Gears and sprockets!" Neil bellowed into the microphone that was attached to the headset that he wore. In his earpiece, he could hear the sisters laughing wildly, merrily chortling at his plight. "Do you have some kind of a cheat enabled?"