Thrown a Curve Read Online Free

I said, confused.
    “The first thing I need to know, though, is do you think you need help?”
    “With what?” I asked.
    “Anything,” he said.
    “I guess my grades need some help,” I said, wondering what he was fishing for.
    “That’s it?”
    I shrugged.
    “What about how you feel about yourself? Do you feel good about yourself? Are you happy?”
    No one had ever asked me that before. I was definitely not happy. I was downright miserable. But what did that have to do with me vandalizing the school? I sat in the old office chair and stared at my hands. Why should I tell this guy if I was happy or not? It wasn’t as if he could change the way I felt.
    “I guess I feel fine,” I said, looking at the floor.
    “Well, maybe I should start by explaining my plan. Let me begin by saying you have a choice. You can go along with my punishment, or you can decide not to, in which case I will turn you over to the police. Okay?”
    “Yeah, okay,” I answered.
    “First, I would like to meet with you on a regular basis,” Sacamore said. “I’d like to get to know you, talk with you . . . that sort of thing. How about coming to my office every Friday during study hall?”
    “Uh . . . okay,” I said. I guessed he wanted to do some sort of therapy with me. At least it was better than telling my dad orgoing to jail.
    “And there’s also a second part,” said Sacamore. “I figure you owe something to this school, because you broke those expensive new windows, right?” He looked at me expectantly.
    “Yeah, I guess so.” I wondered where he was going with this.
    “So, one of the things the school needs is help in the Athletic Department.”
    “You want me to clean the gym equipment or something?”
    “No. What the Athletic Department could really use is a winning baseball season. They haven’t had one in a long time.”
    “So, what does that have to do with me?” I said skeptically.
    “They need a strong pitcher. I’ve decided that you’ll pitch for them.”
    I snorted out a laugh. Was this guy a lunatic? He must’ve thought I was someone else. Then I got defensive.
    “That doesn’t make sense, Mr. Sacamore. Number one, I don’t play baseball. Number two, the team is for boys.” I sounded like I was pleading with him to change his mind, but a part of me was strangely excited. I missed playing baseball. The sport was so easy for me, and everything else was so hard and complicated. But my fear of humiliation took hold of me, and I said, “Isn’t there something else I could do to help the school?”
    “Your other option is a ride in a squad car,” he said firmly.
    I spit out the words in a final plea, “But . . . I’m a girl.”
    “There’s no rule against girls being on the baseball team. They’ve just never tried out before.”
    “I haven’t played on a team since I was little, when I was like eight years old,” I protested.
    “Listen, Taylor, relax. I saw you knock down those bottles at the carnival. You’re a natural. Tryouts start Thursday after school. I’ll let the coaches know you’re coming.”
    Desperately, I asked, “What if I don’t make the team?”
    “If you try your best at tryouts, and they cut you, then we’ll come up with a new plan.”
    I sat there, dumbfounded. The bell rang for third period.
    “Hurry along now, so you won’t miss any more class time,” Mr. Sacamore said, ushering me to the door. “Remember, Thursday, after school, in the gym. I’ll be watching.”
    I walked slowly back to class. I felt numb from what had just happened. I guessed I should be happy I wasn’t going to the slammer for the rest of my high school years . . . but baseball ?
    For the past six years, I’d tried so hard to not think about baseball. When my dad or brothers watched games on TV, I avoided the family room. And I never went to any of Danny’s Little League games. Heck, I even pretended I had cramps when it was baseball day in gym class. Now, this whacked-out