Never Blame the Umpire Read Online Free

baseball fan, is she?”
    “No, but Ivy and Heather and me are still trying to talk her into playing. Coach says he’ll find room for her if she wants to play.”
    Mama sits back down across from me. I can tell she didn’t get much sleep. She has the prettiest green eyes. But today there’s still that touch of redness in them. Not as red as her hair, though. Mama is so pretty with her green eyes and red hair. I’ll never be as pretty as she is, but I’m so lucky I have hair like hers.
    I know some girls who say they wish they weren’t redheads. I don’t understand how they can’t not love their red hair. Just looking at Mama makes me feel good about myself, knowing I look a lot like her.
    “Ginny’s played before, hasn’t she?” Mama said. “Don’t you play at school, in P.E.?”
    “I think that’s why she hates baseball.”
    “Why is that? She’s a good athlete. I know she can handle herself on the tennis court. I’m sure she’d be good at baseball, too.”
    “I know. I think she’s afraid she’ll get hit by the ball again.”
    Mama breaks into a smile. “Oh, that’s right. I remember.”
    “I don’t think Ginny will ever forget. We were playing in P.E. and the ball hit her right in the mouth. It gave her a bloody lip, and her mouth was swollen for a couple days.”
    “I shouldn’t laugh,” Mama says, but I can see she’s working hard not to. “I know it wasn’t funny to Ginny. But I remember it was the day of your class play. She had the lead.”
    “Right. And she still says it was one of the worst days of her life. She had to say all her lines through puffy, swollen lips. She was totally embarrassed by how bad she looked, and she didn’t think anybody in the audience would be able to understand what she was saying. She felt like she had a mouthful of cotton.”
    “She did great, though.”
    “She sure did.” I glance at my watch. In fifteen minutes the bus will come. It’s only a three or four minute walk to the bus stop, but Ginny and I always like to be a little early. I take a final big swallow of orange juice. “She thinks she did awful, though, andshe blames baseball for it.”
    Mama reaches over and touches my hand. “You’ve got your work cut out for you, I guess, if you’re going to convince Ginny that baseball is fun and safe.”
    It seems like my morning is never really off to a good start until I feel Mama’s touch, when she gives me a hug or touches my hand. This day is off to a great start.
    “I guess,” I say. “But I like challenges.”
    “I know you do.” Mama’s voice softens, and the smile leaves her face. “Challenges make us stronger people. Better people.” She quickly wraps both her hands around her coffee cup and says, “Almost time for your bus. You’d better hurry.”
    “Are you okay, Mama?”
    “I’m fine. You have fun at school today. Write something beautiful.”
    “I’ll try.”
    Maybe today I’ll write something I’ll be able to let Mama read. I don’t dare show her the poem I wrote last night, the “What I remember most” poem. It would make her feel even worse about missing our game.

Five
mr. gallagher’s class
    When school’s over at three o’clock half of us rush out to the bus. The rest are picked up by a parent. I sit with Ginny on the bus and tell her how much fun it was today in Mr. Gallagher’s class.
    “He let us read our poems out loud if we wanted to,” I say, “but he didn’t make us read.”
    “You read yours, didn’t you?” Ginny says.
    “No way.”
    I like it that Mr. Gallagher doesn’t force anybody to read their poems. I mean, I don’t mind writing personal stuff, but I don’t want the whole class to hear it. That’s why I didn’t read my poem about getting the winning hit and Mama and Dad not coming to the game. I didn’t mind if Mr. Gallagher saw it, but no way was I going to read it out loud.
    “You should read them,” Ginny says. “I thought everything you wrote was great. You should let