Junior Year Box Set

I think Hagen thought my head wasn’t in the game because I watched his first two pitches. What I wanted to see was exactly how his split-finger broke. Throwing three straight was a mistake. He could get away with doing this in a regular high school game, but the players at this level were so much better. Pitching is all about making the batter guess and doubt himself, and the best way to do it was to mix your pitches up. You couldn’t throw the same pitch in the same location three times in a row and expect anything good to happen.

I hit a line shot that almost took his head off. If he hadn’t gotten his glove up to protect his face, he might have been injured. I beat out the throw because it took him a moment to realize he hadn’t died before he could look for the ball.

“Jesus, Dawson. Were you trying to kill me?”

“Just keep throwing that weak stuff, and you’ll find out,” I shot back.

I think I got under his skin a bit because he made me eat dirt three straight times. What that did was let me know what his move to first looked like. Coach Kingwood had given me the green light to steal if I thought I could unless I was signaled not to. I made a point of not looking at Coach Way at third. When I realized that Hagen was going home with the pitch, I broke for second. They had tricked me. Hagen threw a high hard one that allowed the catcher to stand up and begin his throw to second a fraction of a second faster. That little extra was enough for them to get me, except he bounced the ball, and it took a funny hop.

I bounced up and made a run for third. Coach Way waved to let me know that they had me, so I did the unexpected: I stopped five feet from third. The Stripes’ third baseman wasn’t sure what to do at first. He became even more confused when he started to run after me, and I ran backward, facing him. As soon as he began his throw to their second baseman, I exploded to third. Their third baseman was so startled that he was in the basepath. I could have run him over but decided to just juke around him. He got tangled with the player chasing me, so they never got a throw off to the pitcher who was now covering third.

“What was that running backward bit?” Hagen asked.

“I also play football. I practice running backward for when I play defense.”

On the next pitch, Royce hit a sharp grounder to the shortstop who had to go to first because I was already at home. We ended up winning 1–0.

After we had shaken hands with the Stripes, Coach Kingwood wanted to talk to us.

“We won that game because David was in the moment and ran the bases with aggression. I don’t know many ballplayers who could have avoided that rundown as well as he did.”

“See, it wasn’t just me,” Dave pointed out.

Everyone laughed because I’d gotten the better of him in practice to begin with. Coach Kingwood had taught them how to neutralize my speed and change of direction. Just for fun, I told them a lot of the shiftiness I learned playing tag with my dog, Duke. He was pretty shifty when he wanted to be.

◊◊◊

Fritz and I had our bags in the car. There was someone from the car-rental company waiting for us at the drop-off curb when we got to George Bush Intercontinental Airport. I hadn’t brought clothes for the award ceremony because Dakora was sending me something from their fall line. Adrienne knew how to earn me a buck when it came to fashion. She’d gotten Halle a dress from Donna Karan, and my mom one from Tom Ford.

When we landed in LA and got past the secure area, I was reminded of the cost of living here. Paparazzi confronted us as soon as we hit the baggage claim area. I don’t believe they were necessarily camped out for me; they lay in wait for any celebrity who wandered through.

“Are you and Halle James dating now?”

I tried to ignore the question as we waited for our luggage. In the future, I would either have someone get my bags, or I would ship them. It wasn’t worth the hassle to have the media in your face as soon as you landed.

“It was reported that Halle came to one of your baseball games to see you. Was that when you started dating?”

“Is it true that you’re taking her to the ESPY awards?”

“Now that you’re eighteen, are you going to do porn?”

That one got my attention. It was the goofy man from Hollywood Central I’d met the last time I was in LA. I wasn’t sure if he was smart enough to dress himself, let alone operate a camera at the airport.

“You’ve met my mom. What do you think?” I asked.

“That’s probably a no. Now, what about you and Halle?” he asked.

Maybe he wasn’t as clueless as I suspected.

“I hate to put a label on what we have,” I tried.

“Is it true that you two were seen buying jewelry?” one of the others asked.

I did my new one-eyebrow-raised expression. Yes, the Hollywood Central guy had shocked me into talking, and I may be a ‘stupid boy,’ but I wasn’t falling for it twice.

“Is she your date to the ESPYs?” the Hollywood Central guy asked.