Comeback of the Home Run Kid by Matt Christopher

Author:Matt Christopher [CHRISTOPHER, MATTHEW F]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9780316093781
Publisher: Little, Brown Books for Young Readers
Published: 2009-12-19T05:00:00+00:00

11

Coddmyer, are you deaf? The coach just said you're up!”

Sylvester blinked. He'd been so focused on Duane, Kirk, and Trent that he hadn't heard the coach call his name. Now he grabbed a bat and headed to home plate.

Burk's first pitch was low and inside. Sylvester let it go by for a called strike. The next pitch hit the dirt in front of the plate. One ball, one strike.

The next pitch looked great, like a fat balloon drifting toward him. Sylvester went into his swing, circling the bat around in a wide arc while simultaneously straightening his front leg.

Suddenly, a knife of pain stabbed at his ankle. He'd forgotten to put his ankle brace back on! He dropped the bat and hobbled out of the box.

“Sylvester, I thought you said your ankle was fine!” Coach Corbin's eyes were blazing with anger.

“It — it is,” Syl stammered. “I just forgot my brace.”

The coach gave him a long look. “Maybe I should tie a string around your finger so you'll remember,” he said. “Take a seat. Rod Piper, you're up!”

Syl limped back to the bench, his face hot with embarrassment. He retrieved his brace and put it back on.

Burk retired the next two batters in ten pitches. Syl grabbed his glove and started for the outfield.

“Coddmyer!” the coach barked. “Stay on the bench and elevate that ankle. Piper, take his place in right field.”

As Rod hurried onto the field, Coach Corbin handed Sylvester an ice pack. “Here, put this on that ankle. And remember your brace from now on!”

“Yes, sir,” Sylvester whispered. He took the brace off again, stretched his left leg out on the plank beside him, and laid the pack on his ankle. Sitting like that made it impossible for anyone to sit next to him — not that that mattered, he soon found out, for no one seemed to want to go near him. No one even asked him how his ankle was feeling. When the teams switched sides, Trent and Kirk stood at the far end of the bench, even though Syl shifted to make room for them.

When practice finally ended, Sylvester felt like a complete outcast. Everyone else broke off into groups of twos or threes, laughing and talking about baseball. Sylvester dumped the now warm ice pack in the trash, put his brace back on, and trudged alone to the empty parking lot.

“Hey there, slugger!”

Syl's eyes widened. There was Charlie Comet, leaning against a tree! Syl was nearly positive the man hadn't been there a moment before. But the tree's branches were low and leafy, so maybe he just hadn't seen him.

“Tough day, huh?” Charlie said.

“I've had better,” Syl admitted.

“You'll have better again, don't you worry.” Charlie sounded so certain that Sylvester smiled.

“In fact,” Charlie continued, “I'd be happy to work with you on your switch-hitting, if you're not too tired.”

Sylvester snorted. “Tired? I've been warming the bench for the past hour! I'd love to —”

The toot of a car horn interrupted him. It was his mother, who had come to get him for his haircut.

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