Mudville by Kurtis Scaletta

Author:Kurtis Scaletta [Scaletta, Kurtis]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 978-0-375-89156-4
Publisher: Random House Children's Books
Published: 2009-03-25T16:00:00+00:00

Peter shows up early Saturday in his old, beat-up truck. PJ. is riding shotgun.

“Are we even going to fit in that thing?” David wants to know.

Peter clambers out to open the back door. “My son's team has ridden in it. It's tight, but you just kind of squish together.”

We let Shannon and Rita ride in the cabin, and the rest of us pile into the back, sitting on the hard metal floor, with no air-conditioning and no windows. I bet the Pirates ride like that across town, not twenty miles.

“Remind me why we didn't get rides from our folks?” Steve asks, probably thinking about the surround-sound stereo and comfy seats of his dad's SUV.

“You're sitting on my hand,” says PJ. It's not much of an answer, but it's the only one Steve gets.

It is a hot and stuffy ride, but we survive. When we pull in the parking lot behind the St. James baseball field, one of their assistant coaches comes out, telling Peter to move the truck. He's startled when we come scrambling out of the back.

“What? You don't mean to tell me … ?” He shouts over the brick wall at someone, and soon the St. James Academy coach and a couple of their players come out to see what's going on. I've met the coach, when my dad and I looked at the school, but I don't think he remembers me.

“Hey, Phil!” Peter slams the back door to the truck and makes his way around to shake the coach's hand.

“Sorry,” says the assistant coach. “I didn't realize this was your team … um, vehicle.”

“The regular team bus is in the shop,” Peter jokes.

“You have got to be kidding me,” says one of the kids as soon as he sees us. He has hair so blond it's nearly white. He looks to be about fifteen years old. We're in way over our heads.

“On the phone, you made me think you were high school kids.” The coach frowns. “We can't play you guys.”

“We just want to play the best team around, and that's you,” I tell him. The coach definitely doesn't remember me, I decide. When I was here with my dad, he said I was exactly the kind of young man St. James was looking for. Now he can't even look atme, let alone for me.

“It's just a friendly game,” Peter says with a fake-looking smile. “No big deal.”

The two coaches whisper between themselves, shaking their heads.

“What happened to your face?” the blond kid asks Sturgis.

Sturgis doesn't answer.

“Hey, ugly, I'm talking to you!”

Sturgis still doesn't speak but kicks at the ground with his sneaker. His scars become starker as his face flushes.

“What happened to your face?” David asks the older boy. “Was your mother scared by a giant butt when she was pregnant?”

The coaches break huddle. The assistant says something quietly to the blond boy, who saunters back through the gate.

“The boys are taking a vote,” the coach says. “They may not want to play.”

“Why not?” asks Sturgis.

“It isn't fair to either one of us.

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