Skinnybones Read Online Free

waiting—at least part of my dream was about to come true. I’d have my large shirt!
    I was the first kid at practice that day. When I arrived, my coach was already arranging everything in piles. My heart started pounding like crazy. It was just like in my dream! I felt as if I had seen into the future or something.
    As soon as he was finished, the coach told us to line up single-file. Then one by one, we were to go to the correct pile and pick out a uniform. I have to admit, this wasn’t quite as good as if he had announced my name and size. But still, all I really cared about was getting my
large
.
    As soon as it was my turn, I rushed right over and grabbed a large shirt and pair of pants. Then I sort of hung around the large pile for a while just so everyone would notice.
    Finally, when all the piles were gone, the coach told us to check our uniforms to make sure we had gotten the right size.
    That’s when I heard some of the guys starting to laugh. When I turned around, I saw Randy Tubbs trying to pull his new shirt over his head. It was stuck on his ears, and his eyes were bulging out where it was cutting off his circulation.
    The coach helped Randy pull the shirt off. He looked inside to see what size it was.
    “This is a small, Randy,” he said. “You’re supposed to have a large.”
    Randy shrugged. “It’s all that was left,” he said.
    Right away, the coach started looking on his list, trying to figure out what had happened. This wasn’t good. This wasn’t good at all.
    Slowly, I started backing off the field. But the coach spotted me.
    “Hold it, Alex! Wait!” he called. “Would you bring your uniform back here a minute, please?”
    I felt sick. Sicker than I’d ever felt before. But there was nothing I could do except go back.
    Reluctantly, I handed him my shirt and pants and pointed at the tag. “See, Coach? See? It’s a large, just like you ordered for me,” I said.
    The coach just shook his head. “Alex, I ordered you a small. A large would eat you up and spit you out.”
    Then he gave my uniform to Randy and handedme the eensy-weensy, itsy-bitsy, practically-the-size-a-baby-would-wear … small.
    It was one of the lowest moments of my life.
    When I got home, I went to my room and tried it on. Thanks to Randy and his giant dome, the neck was all stretched out, and it drooped down to my stomach.
    My mother came in and told me not to worry. She said the shirt would probably shrink when it was washed.
    As soon as she left, my pants fell down.

chapter five
HAS ANYONE SEEN MY VELVET PILLOW?
    T.J. Stoner brags about his baseball team more than any kid I’ve ever known in my whole life. So what if his team hasn’t lost a game all year? It doesn’t mean they won just because of
him
. Everybody knows that just one person can’t make the difference between a winning team and a losing team. After all, every single team I’ve ever been on has come in last place. And I don’t care what anyone says, all those teams didn’t lose just because of
me
 … probably.
    Anyway, this year I know for a fact that I am not the worst player on my team. The worst player on my team is Ryan Brady. Ryan broke his arm the first game of the season, and now all he does is sit on the bench. I’m sure I help the team out more than Ryan does … probably.
    I play right field. A lot of kids automatically think that if you play in the outfield, it means you can’t catch or throw. But my father says that’s ridiculous. He says that outfielders are just as good as infielders. He told me that when he was a boy, he played in right field just like me.
    That really doesn’t make me feel much better, though. I’ve seen Dad play. He can’t catch or throw.
    My mother says that when people like T.J. Stoner brag, they’re just trying to get attention. As usual, she says to ignore them. But for some reason, whenever I hear T.J. start to brag about his baseball team, I just can’t seem to keep my big mouth shut.
    Like