Beanball Read online

  I didn’t go to prom. Nobody asked me.

  I doubt that Luke would have,

  even if he’d been in school.

  There are lots of other girls he would have asked

  before he even considered me.

  Daddy always tells me I’m smart and funny and pretty.

  He has to say that. That’s his job as a father.

  He wondered why I wasn’t going to the prom.

  He thought I should have lots of guys inviting me.

  I told him it was because

  I haven’t been at Oak Grove long enough

  to get to know anyone.

  That’s not it, though.

  I just can’t bring myself to go up to a boy

  the way some girls do

  and flirt and make him feel important.

  I can’t play that game,

  and I don’t want to.

  Jenny Lipton told me Carl Scruggins likes me,

  but I guess he couldn’t work up the nerve to ask me.

  He’s even quieter than I am.

  It probably would have been the quietest date in history.

  I don’t know if I would have said yes.

  I might have,

  just to be able to say I went to my junior prom.

  Andy Keller, Oak Grove third baseman

  Some prom.

  I wasn’t very excited about going in the first place.

  Now I wish I hadn’t spent all that money.

  Peggy danced more with Lanny Carpenter

  than she did with me.

  The girl Lanny brought, Dana Travors,

  spent most of the night sitting alone.

  I bet she wasn’t too happy, either.

  If this were a movie, Peggy would have left with Lanny,

  and I would have left with Dana,

  and all four of us would have had a great night.

  But it wasn’t a movie.

  Willard Kominski, longtime Oak Grove baseball fan

  The team’s playing better than I expected.

  When Luke Wallace got hurt,

  I figured Oak Grove would just lie down and die.

  But the opposite is true.

  The kids are playing with intensity,

  with fire.

  They might even go all the way to State.

  Luke “Wizard” Wallace

  I’m happy the team is winning.

  But I’d be lying if I said it didn’t hurt

  knowing the team can win without me.

  Doesn’t everybody want to feel he’s indispensable?

  Or at least missed?

  Sarah Edgerton, Oak Grove student

  Sometimes I wonder if Luke

  even wants me to come see him.

  He’s so quiet—

  not at all the way he was before he got hurt.

  It’s mostly a monologue when I’m there.

  I try to be upbeat.

  I try to talk about funny things

  that happened at school.

  He doesn’t seem interested.

  Each time I go to the hospital,

  I tell myself that my being there

  will help cheer him up,

  but it doesn’t seem to.

  Each time I leave, I tell myself I’m not going back.

  But I do.

  I say I’m doing it for him.

  Am I just kidding myself?

  Luke “Wizard” Wallace

  I was surprised the first time Sarah visited me.

  I’m surprised she keeps coming back;

  I know I’m not good company.

  It’s not her fault I don’t feel much like laughing.

  The first few times she came, I wished she was Melody.

  It’s pretty clear Melody’s not coming back,

  and now, I have to admit,

  I kind of look forward to Sarah’s visits.

  She’s got a nice smile and a great sense of humor.

  She always tells me funny things

  that have happened at school.

  A few of them I’ve already heard about,

  from either Gordie or Andy,

  but the way she tells a story makes it seem funnier.

  Here’s an example:

  Principal Jenks gives the morning announcements.

  He’s got a high-pitched voice you wouldn’t expect

  from somebody as big as he is,

  and he always ends the announcements

  with a quote from a famous person.

  Some of the quotes are so dumb,

  everyone in homeroom groans.

  Anyway, Sarah’s got his voice down cold,

  so when she imitates him

  giving one of his dumb quotes,

  it almost makes me laugh.

  I know Sarah’s trying to make me feel better.

  I guess she kind of does.

  Sarah Edgerton, Oak Grove student

  I don’t know if I should have done it, but I did.

  I printed a bunch of articles off the Internet

  and sent them to Luke—anonymously.

  I don’t know how he’ll take the information,

  and I don’t want him to be mad at me.

  It’s just that I can see how depressed he is.

  I thought the articles might help.

  They’re about people who are successful in sports

  even though each of them has vision in only one eye.

  There’s a professional hockey player,

  a college baseball pitcher, and a lot of others.

  I want Luke to know he doesn’t have to give up

  the things he loves because he’s lost an eye.

  I want to do something to bring his smile back.

  Luke “Wizard” Wallace

  I got an envelope today . . . full of articles

  about athletes who still compete,

  even though they’re blind in one eye.

  I didn’t realize it was possible.

  I read them over and over,

  until I was too tired to read anymore.

  Later on, I realized

  there was no name on the envelope,

  so I don’t know who sent the articles.

  My first thought was Coach Hucklebee.

  But he would have given them to me in person.

  He would have talked to me about them.

  Same with Mom or Dad or Andy.

  What was he thinking, the guy who sent them?

  Why was he afraid to let me know?

  Did he think I’d be pissed, that I’d cuss him out

  and tell him to mind his own business?

  Would I have done that?

  Have I been that nasty to people,

  that hard to talk to?

  Alice Gooding, nurse

  When I went into Luke’s room, he was reading.

  He’s supposed to avoid eyestrain,

  but some reading is okay.

  I asked him if it was a school assignment,

  and he didn’t answer.

  Then, when I said it was time to change his dressings,

  I realized he hadn’t even noticed I was there—

  he’d been so engrossed in what he was reading.

  The next time I went to his room, he was asleep.

  A sheet of paper was still in his hand.

  Part Five

  Andy Keller, Oak Grove third baseman

  Luke showed me an article

  about a college pitcher who was blind in one eye.

  He asked me if I’d sent it.

  I told him I hadn’t,

  but if I’d seen it, I would have sent it.

  “If this guy can do it, you can,” I said.

  Luke shook his head. “If I were a pitcher, maybe.

  But pitching’s not the same

  as catching fly balls or hitting fastballs.”

  “You don’t know until you try,” I said.

  “Sure,” Luke muttered. “Remember when

  Mrs. Trucelli
quoted some writer

  about the difference between lightning

  and the lightning bug?”

  “Yeah,” I said. “Mark Twain.”

  “Well,” Luke said, “there’s a big difference

  between playing and just playing.”

  I told Luke he was no Mark Twain,

  but I knew what he meant.

  Daryl Hucklebee, Oak Grove coach

  Sure, maybe I lied just a bit.

  But not all lies are bad.

  Andy Keller asked me if I would talk to Luke,

  let him know it’s possible

  to play good baseball with just one good eye.

  The truth of the matter is, I doubt it.

  I’ve never seen a one-eyed baseball player.

  I know the down side—

  the problems with depth perception:

  picking up the flight of a ball,

  the spin on a pitch.

  But I wasn’t going to focus on the problems.

  I told Luke that the loss of an eye

  shouldn’t keep someone from excelling.

  It all comes down to attitude, to mental toughness.

  It’s mental toughness that helps athletes

  overcome physical disabilities.

  Who knows? Maybe I’m right.

  Michelle Wallace, Luke’s mother

  Luke seems more upbeat

  than at any time since he got hurt.

  Part of it, I’m sure, is because he knows

  he’ll be able to come home soon.

  He’s been so active his whole life,

  and for weeks now he’s been stuck in that hospital bed,

  barely able to move.

  He must feel relieved,

  knowing it won’t be long before he’ll be outside,

  running around again.

  The doctor said if everything goes as expected,

  Luke should be able to resume normal activities

  in a few weeks.

  His only limitations will be those imposed

  by his impaired vision,

  and he’ll just have to find out for himself what’s possible.

  I was so worried,

  but now it looks as if I’ll have Luke back after all.

  Maybe God really was listening.

  Larry Wallace, Luke’s father

  Luke and I talked today.

  Really talked.

  It was the first time since he’s been here

  that he’s said more than just a few words to me.

  He showed me some articles he’s been reading.

  He told me he thought I’d sent them to him,

  but I said I hadn’t.

  One was about a professional hockey player.

  Luke said if someone with only one eye can play hockey,

  as fast paced as it is, then maybe it’s possible

  to play baseball or football or basketball.

  “Sure it is,” I said. I told him there wasn’t any reason

  he shouldn’t be able to run and swing a bat

  and throw a pass and shoot a basketball.

  “I don’t know,” he said. “But I want to give it a try.”

  Luke “Wizard” Wallace

  I just got a visit from Kyle Dawkins.

  It was awkward for both of us.

  I was alone when he came to my room.

  “I’m so sorry, Luke,” he said.

  Then he also apologized for not coming earlier.

  He said he’d been wanting to for weeks,

  but he’d always backed out at the last minute.

  He said he was ashamed to face me.

  I didn’t know how to respond.

  Ever since that game, I’ve pictured him in my mind:

  6′4″ and a solid 220, without an ounce of fat.

  I see him staring in before that final pitch,

  the ball in his right hand,

  gleaming bright red like a fireball.

  At least that’s my vision of it.

  I think of how I could fling my bat at him,

  knock him right off the mound

  before he can deliver the pitch.

  But I’ve known all along he didn’t hit me on purpose.

  I’ve played against him in three sports; he’s a decent guy.

  “You going to be okay?” he asked.

  I thought of a dozen different ways to answer—

  none of them nice.

  I thought, “I’ll be damned if I say something

  to make you feel better.

  You can hurt a while longer, the way I have to.”

  But then I looked at him, this powerful athlete,

  brushing his hand across his eyes

  to wipe away tears.

  And finally I said, “Sure, Kyle. I’ll be fine.

  Don’t sweat it, man.”

  After he left, I wondered if I’d said the right thing.

  Andy Keller, Oak Grove third baseman

  When Luke told me Dawkins had come to visit him,

  I told him about Kyle quitting the Compton team.

  Luke hadn’t known.

  I hadn’t told him earlier because I thought

  he might not want to hear Kyle’s name.

  “He quit,” Luke repeated.

  “Right after it happened,” I said.

  Luke didn’t say anything for a while.

  Then, in a voice so soft I could barely hear it,

  he said, “It wasn’t Kyle’s fault.

  All along I’ve been blaming him for throwing at me.

  But it was as much my fault as his.

  I made a bonehead decision.

  I knew how wild he is, but I was leaning in,

  expecting an outside pitch.

  How long have we been playing ball?

  I should have known better. I got careless.”

  “It wasn’t your fault,” I said.

  Luke bit at his lower lip.

  He ran a hand through his hair.

  “That’s what I should have told Kyle,” he said.

  “That it wasn’t his fault.”

  “You still can,” I said. “You can call him and tell him.”

  “Maybe I will,” he said.

  Sarah Edgerton, Oak Grove student

  Luke smiled at me today.

  I almost didn’t go visit him.

  I wanted to see him, but I didn’t know

  what kind of mood he’d be in.

  What if he was angry about those articles,

  and he found out I was the one who’d sent them?

  But I finally decided to go anyway.

  His head is still all bandaged, and he still looks bad.

  But when I walked in the room,

  his face seemed to light up.

  He actually seemed glad to see me.

  At least he made me feel that way for the first time ever.

  I’m so happy I was finally able to make him smile.

  Luke “Wizard” Wallace

  Sarah came today.

  I was hoping she would,

  but I wasn’t expecting it.

  I haven’t exactly been great company

  when she’s been here.

  It’s a funny thing: when we worked on

  that research project at school,

  I never thought of her as pretty—

  at least not in the way Melody is.

  But today . . .

  She must have done something different—

  with her hair, her clothes.

  I don’t know.

  But when she smiled,

  it actually sent a little tingle through me.

  Does that sound crazy?

  I told her about some of the articles I’d read

  about athletes with impaired vision,

  and she got a funny look on her face,

  as if she felt embarrassed

  or guilty about something.

  It was as though a light

  had been snapped on in my
head.

  Sarah Edgerton, Oak Grove student

  “It was you, wasn’t it?” Luke said.

  “What was me?”

  “You sent me those articles.”

  I wondered how he knew, or if he was just guessing.

  Should I tell him the truth or not? I’m not a good liar.

  Before I could say anything,

  he read the answer on my face.

  “Thanks” he said. “I’m glad you did.

  But why didn’t you let me know it was you?”

  “I didn’t want you to be mad at me.”

  He reached out his hand toward me.

  I didn’t know what else to do,