Donuthead by Sue Stauffacher

Author:Sue Stauffacher [Stauffacher, Sue]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 978-0-307-52152-1
Publisher: Random House Children's Books
Published: 2003-10-26T04:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER SEVEN

Skating on Thin Ice

I was not forced to dodge any more pitches that day. Head, shoulders, knees, or sweet spot, wherever my mother pitched the ball, Sarah met it with her bat and sent it flying. Tired of jogging all over creation, my mother finally sent me to the outfield, where a kid has at least a decent chance of avoiding the ball.

Sarah would simply smack the ball, then watch as my mother and I scrambled to keep up with it, leaning on her bat with one leg crossed over the other, a patient smile on her face. After a dozen or so hits, my mother jogged to the plate. Practice was over.

“Holy crow,” she said, bending down and putting her hand by Sarah's footprint. “Where'd you learn to hit like that?”

“I used to play some.”

My mother studied her hand, then went over to her duffel bag, pulled out her Cable Country receipt pad, and wrote a note along the bottom.

“Tomorrow, we'll see if you can run.”

I think we both knew the “you” she was referring to. I felt grateful to Sarah Kervick for taking the pressure off me.

We packed up the equipment and got into Mother's van. Sarah sat in front so she could give directions. I didn't pay much attention to where we were headed. I was busy reliving the afternoon and my own successes. Okay, they were minor compared with Sarah Kervick's hit parade, but I had met one of my mother's wicked fastballs, hadn't I? I felt the need to communicate the importance of this moment to someone who could appreciate it. I began to calculate just how I could sneak in a toll-free call before dinner to Gloria when the van hit a pothole and we began bouncing down a rutted dirt road.

Every so often there'd be an opening in the trees and I would get a glimpse of metal or aluminum siding. We weren't in a trailer park exactly, more like a clump of woods where trailers had come to rest in no particular order.

“It's in here,” Sarah said, waving her hand. My mother turned into a clearing that held a small trailer supported on cement blocks.

“You sure you want to do this?” Sarah asked.

“Of course I'm sure—”

Suddenly, from both sides of the car, huge dogs came lunging at us, barking like the van was full of fresh meat and we were downwind. My mother slammed on the brakes just as they hit the van, rocking it with their enormous paws.

“I'll handle it,” Sarah said, unlocking the door. To my horror, she stepped out of the van, leaving the door open! The dogs left off mauling the van and lunged at her. For a moment, we lost her in a flurry of paws and dog hair.

“Mom,” I screamed. “Do something!”

“Pretzel! Zero!” I could still hear Sarah's voice over the sounds of gnashing teeth and frenzied barking. After several long seconds, she managed to get hold of the dogs by wrapping her bony arms around their necks and grabbing the metal-studded collars.

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