Wind Up, Derek Jeter [little red riding hood read aloud .txt] 📗

Derek wondered if he should go over and see if she was okay, but if she was getting her head ready for the game, he didn’t want to interrupt.

Had he imagined her wincing in pain like that? Maybe it had just been the sun in his eyes.

Turning his attention back to the Reds, Derek could see that they were a tight-knit team. They all worked well together, encouraging one another at every turn—even in practice.

Good coaching, Derek thought, feeling a wave of worry come over him. The Yankees had walked a tightrope for the entire second half of the season to get here. They hadn’t dominated any single game they’d played. They’d come close to losing so many times—and yet, here they were.

Was this going to be the day their luck ran out?

Derek shook off the feelings that were trying to invade his brain. No way, he told himself. Not if I have anything to say about it!

It wasn’t just fielding that made the Reds tick—their starting pitcher was really tough. His pitches had all kinds of movement. Derek was the only Yankee to hit a fair ball in the first inning—a weak pop-up to second. Mason had fouled out to lead off, and Pete struck out to end it—one, two, three.

In the bottom of the first, the Reds, who were not a particularly big team size-wise, surprised Derek by teeing off on Harry’s fastballs for three straight hits and two quick runs! With a runner on second, nobody out, and the cleanup hitter coming up, Derek found himself getting nervous, a cold sweat breaking out on his forehead.

Luckily, the cleanup man smacked a line drive right up the middle—right to where Derek was playing him, because the hitter was left-handed. Derek snagged it and stepped on second to double up the runner, who had started for third on contact. Two outs, and nobody on!

The number five hitter kept the pressure on, though, doubling to Vijay in right. Derek looked in at Harry, who seemed half-defeated, confused by his inability to get the ball past the hitters.

Derek jogged quickly to the mound. “Mix it up more, Har,” Derek told him in a low voice. “They’re onto your fastball.” Then he got back into position, ready for anything.

Harry threw a big, fat changeup. Derek was right—the hitter was keyed to the fastball and swung way too early. The bat barely touched the ball, and it landed right in front of JJ, the catcher, who grabbed it and threw to first to end the threat.

“That-a-way, Harry!” Derek shouted, raising his hands over his head. But Harry only shook his head in reply, exasperated with himself.

As he was watching his team hit again in the second, Derek found his tension meter rising again. Vijay, sitting next to him on the bench, must have noticed, because he said, “Only two runs—no problem. We’ve got this, right, Derek?”

“Totally,” Derek said, forcing himself to think positive.

“Hey, loosen up!” Vijay said, hearing the doubt in Derek’s voice. “What’s up with you? Your shoulders are so tense, they’re scrunched right up to your ears!”

“Huh?” Derek suddenly realized it was true. Without noticing it, he’d scrunched himself up into a ball of muscle. “Wow. I see what you mean.”

He rolled his head around in a circle, trying to get the kinks out of his neck. Then he rolled his shoulders around, to loosen them up too. “Thanks, Vij,” he said. “I don’t know what’s going on with me today.”

But he did know. At least he thought he did. It was the news about Dave that had shaken him up, thrown him off his game.

“No problem,” Vijay said with a smile. “Like I said, we’ve got this, right?”

“Right!” Derek replied. And this time he really meant it.

Then he looked over at Avery, who was sitting on the bench, rocking back and forth and biting her nails. He’d seen her like that a few times before, in tense moments of earlier games. But this time it looked like she was in actual physical pain. She seemed to almost be wincing.

He was about to go over and demand that she tell him what was wrong, when JJ struck out to end the Yankees’ half of the inning.

Wow, Derek thought glumly as he ran back out to short. That happened fast.

He forced himself to shake free of his troubles and concentrate with every fiber of his being. He’d have to talk to Avery later.

Harry started the second by tossing a lot of off-speed pitches to the Reds. They hit the ball but didn’t make any solid contact. Even though they put two men on base with walks, they didn’t score, and the game stayed 2–0.

With Avery batting seventh and leading off the top of the third, Derek had no chance to talk to her. But he noticed she still had that pained look on her face, and she kept wincing every once in a while.

She seemed determined, all right—but it didn’t help her any. She struck out on three straight fastballs.

“AAARRRRGH!” she roared, smacking her bat on the ground and yanking off her helmet before stomping back to the bench. She plunked herself down at the far end, away from the rest of the team.

Vijay followed with an infield single—the team’s first hit! “Let’s go, Yankees!” he shouted, putting his hands over his head and clapping as he stood on first.

Elliott grounded out, sending Vijay to second. Then Mason walked, and Derek came to the plate with two runners on.

Vijay took a big lead off second on the pitch—and Derek saw the shortstop try to sneak in behind him for a pickoff play!

“Get back, Vij!” Derek shouted, just as the catcher fired a bullet to second. Vijay dived back in—and was safe by a whisker.

“Good read, Derek!” Coach K called out to him. “That’s heads up! Nice job, Vijay!”

Derek smiled, happy that Vijay had gotten called out for doing something good. But it wouldn’t mean much unless Derek drove in the