Foxworth Academy Read Online Free Page B

responded.  He crumpled up the bag and put it back in the closet.  Grabbing his backpack, he walked down the hallway and up the stairs to his room to change clothes.  His room was pretty clean for a teenager.  His bed wasn’t made, but there were no clothes, books, or sports equipment on the floor.  He had posters of Phillies players on the wall and one large map of the world with small black “x’s” on the  states and countries that he had visited.  Changing into gym shorts and a T-shirt, he walked back downstairs, into the mud room, and found his baseball bag and put on his cleats.
    His dad was already out in the backyard with the bucket of baseballs.  When Brett was twelve, he showed a strong interest in baseball, so his parents had a batting cage installed.  To the left of the cage was an in-ground pool which they kept open for a few more weeks.  The property sat on over a half-acre of land and was also big enough for a stone patio with a large grill and a table and chairs. 
    “It’s pretty nice outside, we’ll eat on the patio tonight,” his dad called from the inside the cage.  He stood behind a pitcher’s net, forty-five feet away, ball in hand.
    Brett stepped into the cage, put on his helmet, and started to loosen up.  Raising the bat high over his head with both hands, he dipped low to the ground as if touching his toes, up high again, left and right.  Brett took a few practice swings, stepped into the batter’s box, and tapped the plate.  He had a nice wide, athletic stance. 
    “Let’s work on hitting to the opposite field,” Dad said.
    The first pitched was smacked to the right, opposite field for a right-hander.
    “Good, again,” his dad said.
    He pitched about ten more balls and Brett hit them exactly where he intended them to go.
    “Okay, sacrifice fly time.”
    “Let me just hit,” Brett called back.
    “There’s gonna be times where you need to hit it
    high and drive in a run, Brett.  You don’t need to swing for the fences every time.”
    Brett satisfied his dad by driving low with his body and hitting the ball high over his head a few times.
    “See?  Easy, right?”
    Brett didn’t respond, he just kept swinging away.  After twenty more minutes, he was spent, and his dad told him that was enough for today.
    “Baseball, again?” came a voice from the back of the house.
    Brett ignored his sister and took off his helmet, wiping the sweat from his forehead.
    “How was school?” her father asked.
    “Great, they announced they’re going to do Romeo & Juliet for the school play this semester.  I’m going to try for the lead.”
    “If there’s anyone who can play the lead, you sure can,” her dad encouraged her.
    Reilly was obsessed with acting.  She’d spent a week in the summer at a children’s acting camp at the local YMCA; all she wanted to do when she grew up was be an actress.
    “Too bad they won’t give the lead to a seventh-grader,” Brett chimed in, walking into the house.
    “Enough, Brett.  Encourage your sister,” his dad said.
    His mom, Lauren, came home shortly thereafter and Dad cooked dinner for the family.  They ate outside, enjoying the warm evening.  Everyone went their separate ways afterward.  Dad read a book in the living room, Mom and Reilly watched the latest reality series on TLC, and Brett went to his room to finish his paper on the...ugh...microwave oven.
    CHAPTER FIVE
    F ortunately for Brett he was not called on to read his five-page report on the wonderful microwave oven the following day.  They only got through a handful of students before Mr. Martin told the students to pass the papers up and he would grade them over the weekend.  He went to his desk and grabbed two small pads of sticky notes, one pink, and the other blue.
    “James, Misty,” he called on the two students nearest him, “please hand each boy a piece of blue and Misty, hand each girl a pink piece.”
    The two students took the pads from Mr. Martin and