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slapped hands with him and said, “What’s going on, D?” But Cody noticed most of the other boys seemed to edge away from Dante. Cody and Joey moved away too. But not before Dante spotted Cody and snickered.
    A few minutes later, Coach called the Orioles together.
    â€œBoys, I’m excited about this team,” he began. “We have some real talent and a great shot to do well this season if we play sound, fundamental baseball. With focus and the right teamwork, we have a chance to be really special. Now, let’s go to work.”
    For the better part of an hour, they had fielding drills: hitting the cutoff man, reviewing where to position themselves for bunts, throwing down to second base on a steal attempt with runners on first and third, etc. Cody was relieved to see that Coach shuttled Dante between third base and left field for the drills. And the big guy didn’t seem too upset about the arrangement. At least he wasn’t glaring at Cody and making throat-slashing gestures.
    But that’ll probably change, once he discovers I’m playing third, Cody thought. At which point my life will be over.
    Cody could also see that Coach was right about the Orioles’ chances of having a great season. Connor and Jordy were both terrific all-round players. Willie Pitts, the slender second baseman, was by far the fastest kid he had ever seen—Cody couldn’t imagine anyone being able to throw him out on the base paths. Joey Zinno was an excellent catcher, with a cannon for an arm.
    Dante was a far better left fielder than he was a third baseman, and Yancy Arroyo in center field was so smooth he seemed to glide effortlessly to fly balls. Even Gabe Molina in right field looked like a solid player who was not going to embarrass the Orioles.
    The pitching seemed outstanding too—at least what Cody saw of right-hander Robbie Hammond, the coach’s son, throwing on the sidelines. Robbie was the Orioles’ number one pitcher, and Mike Cutko, the short lefty throwing beside him, was their number two.
    The only player Cody couldn’t figure out was a skinny, gawky-looking kid who took turns alternating with Gabe in right field. The boy never seemed to stop talking, even when he was chasing fly balls and line drives. He talked to anyone who would listen. And when they stopped listening, he kept yammering anyway.
    â€œC’mon, you’re better than that!” the kid yelled at himself after dropping an easy fly ball. When he misjudged a line drive a few minutes later, he cried out, “Get your head in the game, Marty!”
    When the team finally took a water break, Cody sidled up to Connor and asked, “What’s with the chatty guy in right field?”
    Connor grinned and waved over Jordy and Willie.
    â€œJordy,” he said, “give us the scouting report on Marty.”
    Jordy pretended to pull a notebook from his back pocket and thumb through several pages. “Ah, here it is,” he said. “Loopus, Marty. Can’t hit. Can’t catch. Can’t throw.”
    â€œWait, there’s been an addition,” Willie added, acting like he was reading from his own notes. “Says here the boy’s slower than your grandma on the bases too.”
    The three of them laughed. Cody cringed a little, feeling a sting of embarrassment on Marty’s behalf. Cody knew how it felt to have kids judging you all the time.
    But then Connor held up his hand. “Marty’s actually great to have on our team, ’cause he’s always trying to make us laugh,” he said. “He’s probably the smartest kid in the whole school too. I heard he’s never gotten anything but straight A ’s on his report card—since he was in kindergarten.”
    â€œDoesn’t help much when we’re down in the last inning and need a big hit,” Willie said with a grin. “But if we ever go up against the other team in positive and negative