The Year Mom Won the Pennant Read Online Free Page B

we weren’t.”
    He climbed out of the dugout, picked up the catcher’s mitt, and shoved it inside the canvas bag where the other baseball equipment
     was kept. Then he hung around, cleaning his fingernails, while the color of his face gradually returned to normal.
    Mom looked at Wayne as if trying to figure him out. She told the boys to put the bats and balls into the bag and then put
     the bag into her car.
    “Come on, Wayne,” Mom said, when they were ready to leave. “You can ride with us as far as our house.”
    He seemed reluctant at first. Then he shrugged and got into the car. Nick thought that Mom would say something more to Wayne,
     but she didn’t. And he was glad. Wayne looked as if he didn’t care to talk about anything.
    Wayne helped Nick lift the equipment out of the car when they reached home. Wayne spotted the tent Dad had put in the yard
     for Nick. “That’s a beauty. Ever spend a night in it?”
    “Oh, sure,” said Nick. He met Wayne’s eyes. “Wayne, you’re not very happy about my mother’s coaching us, are you?”
    Wayne’s lips twitched. “I didn’t say anything.”
    “No. But that’s what you’re thinking, isn’t it? I wasn’t too happy about it at first, either. But nobody else will coach us.
     If she didn’t coach us, we wouldn’t have a team. Did you ask your dad if he’d like to coach us?”
    Wayne didn’t answer for a while. At last he said, “Your mother’s okay. I’m just not crazy about baseball. I’ve even thought
     of quitting. I don’t know. Maybe I will or maybe I won’t.
    He walked away. When he was halfway to the sidewalk, he turned and said over his shoulder, “So long. And thanks for the ride.”
    Nick frowned after him. Wayne quitting? Did he really mean it? He really was a strange kid. Why hadn’t he answered those questions
     about his father? What did his father do that made him unable to coach the team? Was it because he didn’t knowenough about baseball? Or was it some other reason?
    Nick went into the house and saw that Dad was home. He certainly was putting in some long hours lately.
    “Dad, do you know Mr. Snow? Know what his job is?”
    Dad shrugged. “He’s an importer, I think. Brings goods in from abroad. Why?”
    “Wayne never talks about him.”
    “Maybe Wayne doesn’t know exactly what he does,” answered Dad.
    It sure seemed funny.
He
knew what
his
dad did.
    On Saturday afternoon Gale and Scotty came over and the three of them rode their skateboards down to the corner. They stopped
     in the drugstore for ice-cream cones and rode on the sidewalk on Columbus Street till they were opposite Wayne Snow’s house.
    Nick heard sharp, cracking sounds coming from the place, and saw baseballs flying through the air on the other side of the
     garage.
    “How do you like that?” he said. “He’s practicing batting! And the other day he said he didn’t like baseball!”

8
    T he boys picked up their skateboards and walked over to the other side of the garage.
    Johnny Linn, with a half dozen baseballs at his feet, was pitching them in to Wayne, who was standing with his back to the
     garage.
    “Hi!” greeted Nick. “Getting in some practice?”
    “Hi,” said Johnny.
    “Hi,” said Wayne, and shrugged. “I need it, don’t I?”
    “Thought you said you might quit baseball,”said Nick. “You wouldn’t do this if you were going to quit, would you?”
    Wayne shrugged. “I said it because I can’t hit. Then Johnny said he was willing to pitch to me.”
    “He said I could ride his horse,” Johnny said.
    “Let’s quit.” Wayne tossed his bat to the ground. “I’ve had enough, anyway.”
    Nick noticed a swimming pool to the left of the garage, encircled by a high wire fence. There was a small, child-size rowboat
     in the pool with oars inside it. There were several canvas lounging chairs and a sun umbrella, folded down over a table, along
     the side of the pool.
    This Wayne kid has everything, thought Nick. And what he