One for the Murphys by Hunt Lynda Mullaly

Author:Hunt, Lynda Mullaly [Hunt, Lynda Mullaly]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Young Adult, Contemporary, Childrens
ISBN: 9781101572122
Goodreads: 16305161
Publisher: Penguin Group
Published: 2012-05-10T07:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER 26

Walk Off Loss

I plop down on the couch. “So,” I say to Mr. Murphy. “The Sox are down by two points?”

“Yeah, but you say runs, not points.” He frowns at the TV.

“Oh.” I am nervous now. He sounds angry.

I’ve been wondering about him and the adoption book. I figure that if Mrs. Murphy took out the book, she must be okay with the idea, but I wonder if he will go for it. If he likes me at all.

He is sitting on the edge of the couch, resting his elbows on his knees. The Yankees have the bases loaded with no outs. The guy at bat has a “2” on his jersey; how intimidating can he be with a number like that?

Number two hits the ball and ends up with a double. Mr. Murphy slaps his leg. “You’re kidding me!” he yells. I’d like to ask what the attraction is of watching it if it makes him miserable.

The doorbell rings. Mrs. Murphy answers it, and Toni comes around the corner. I meet her in the kitchen.

“Hey, Connors! What’s up?” Toni asks, smiling.

“Ceiling,” I say.

Mrs. Murphy laughs.

“You think you’re pretty funny, don’t ya, Connors? Don’t get a swelled head ’cause your mother laughs. She probably thought what you left in your diapers was a masterpiece.”

With the word mother, Mr. and Mrs. Murphy look questioningly at me. It’s bothering me that I haven’t told Toni the truth. The more I like her, the more my silence feels like a lie.

Toni’s attention turns toward the TV. She walks in that direction, stepping just inside the family room. “Yup,” Toni says. “There is nothing better than baseball on a Sunday afternoon. My dad and I watch it whenever he’s home.”

Mr. Murphy looks like he’s ready to adopt her. Maybe she’ll win me some brownie points if she’s sitting around talking about the wonders of the blessed Red Sox.

“And there’s nothing better,” she continues, “than watching the Red Sox get pummeled into dust by the Yanks. Don’t you love a team that goes eighty-six years without winning a Series and, when they finally do, they act like they own baseball?”

Okay. In my mind, I see this whole thing as a car teetering on a cliff. Rocking back and forth.

“Losers,” she says. “Sox fans are nothing but losers.”

And the car goes over. Falling and falling.

Mr. Murphy’s head turns… slowly… and he glares up at her as if she has just pulled out a gun. She finally gets around to looking at him. Noticing his Red Sox hat and the Dropkick Murphys shirt. “Oh,” she says. “Sorry.”

I have never imagined Toni retreating from anyone, but she is out of there in a shot. Back in the kitchen with me and Mrs. Murphy.

“I have a few things to say about Yankees fans,” he yells at us.

“Now, Jack.” Mrs. Murphy is amused. “Remember you’re the adult here.”

“You really have a way with people,” I say to Toni.

“Well, I won you over, didn’t I, Connors? And you were pretty rough stuff that first day we met.

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