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

look that stressed—in spite of the fact that they had a huge game coming up the next morning.

Derek guessed that she needed to get away from the pressures she lived with most of the time. He also sensed that today might be his best chance to sound her out, and find out what was really bugging her.

The pickup game got started. At one point Avery fielded a grounder with a man on first, and flipped to Derek to start the double play—but she tossed it to the wrong side of the bag, making it impossible for him to get off a strong throw to first.

“Hey,” he told her. “You wanna hang around after and practice a few of those, so we get it right if it happens tomorrow?”

“Sure!” she said without hesitation.

Derek wasn’t surprised she’d taken him up on his offer. Avery never turned down an opportunity to improve her game.

Vijay was the last of the others to leave. “I have to get home and heat up dinner,” he told Derek and Avery. “My parents get home from work at six thirty.”

Vijay’s parents worked at the hospital, and sometimes didn’t get home until late, so heating up dinner was pretty routine at the Patel house.

“Cool,” said Avery. As Vijay walked away, she turned to Derek. “So… practice?”

“Uh, yeah. Listen… could I just ask you—”

“I thought you wanted to run double-play drills,” she said, hands on her hips.

“Yeah, right—but… Look, you’re probably going to get mad at me, but I’ve just got to ask. Is there something going on with you lately? I mean, are you okay? You’re not sick or something?”

“Do we have to talk about this?”

“Yes. Be mad at me if you want, but at least let me know what’s going on. I mean, I thought we were friends.”

“We are,” she said. Then, with a sigh, she continued, “Okay, I’ll admit it. The pressure’s been getting to me lately. I guess when I got into all this, I figured I could take whatever abuse I got, and still go on. You know, because of my brother and all.”

“Yeah? And?”

“I guess I didn’t figure in the other kind of pressure.”

“As in winning?”

“Kind of. I mean, I was just going to play in his honor, and do him proud. But once we got in sight of the playoffs, I guess I just moved the goalposts. It’s… the pressure just builds and builds and builds. And now…”

“I hear you. But you know, you’ve done great. You’re doing great!”

“Thanks. But it’s really starting to get to me. Every time I blow it out there, I want to kick myself.”

“Well, don’t do that!” Derek said, trying to inject a little levity. She didn’t even crack a smile.

“In fact, I was thinking that I might not sign up again next year.”

“What?”

Avery shrugged. “You know, just go back to soccer, maybe lacrosse or even volleyball.”

Derek looked at her like he’d never seen her before. Avery was sure full of surprises!

“My mom was the same way,” she went on. “You know, she was playing in the boys’ leagues a long time ago, when girls were first allowed by law. It was really, really tough on her. Tougher than on me, even.”

Derek wished he could help her somehow. He decided to talk to his mom and dad about it. He was pretty sure they’d have some good ideas.

“Listen,” he said. “It’s getting late. Why don’t I just walk you home, and we can work the DP again before the game tomorrow?”

“Okay.”

As they walked, Derek couldn’t help but think about what a cost she’d paid all season long. To become the kind of ballplayer she was—playing a new sport for the first time, as the only girl in the whole league, and doing it to honor your late brother? Not so easy.

“You know,” he told her, “I’ve kind of been feeling the pressure too.”

“Yeah?”

“Maybe not like you, but for sure. I’m having trouble studying for finals—”

“Hah! Me too!” At last she cracked a smile.

“Yeah, but you didn’t make a bet with someone where the guy with the lower score has to wear a chicken suit the last day of school!”

“You did not!”

Derek nodded sadly.

“No way! Oh, poor Derek—why did you go and do that?”

“Because I’m a dummy. But no, seriously, I’m going to hang that chicken suit on that kid. Some way, somehow…”

“You think?”

“Hey, I’ve got Vijay helping me—how can I lose?”

Sharlee had been acting mysteriously the whole evening. All through dinner she kept exchanging sneak peeks with her mom and giggling, while looking at Derek. He suspected it had something to do with his upcoming birthday, and whatever surprise the two of them were hatching for him.

After helping wash and dry the dinner dishes, Derek left the two plotters to their own devices, and went to find his dad.

Mr. Jeter was at the desk in his home office, grading his students’ papers. He worked as a college professor at Western Michigan University.

“Derek?”

“Hi, Dad. Could I, um, could I talk to you about something?”

His dad swiveled his chair around. “Sure! Have a seat, Son. What’s on your mind?”

“It’s about Avery.”

“Avery?” Mr. Jeter looked surprised.

“I just don’t know what to do, and I thought you might be able to help.” Derek filled his dad in on everything he’d noticed about Avery over the past three weeks.

“Hmmm,” Mr. Jeter said when Derek had finished. “Sounds like she’s making herself sick over it.”

“Exactly!”

“She might not be in the mood to listen, no matter what good advice you might have for her, Derek. You know, in our house, we are very competitive and we always play to win. We take the field expecting it, and we’re not happy when we lose. But one thing you can’t say about us is that we don’t have fun playing the game. If we didn’t, what would be the point of the whole thing?”

“Huh,” Derek said, nodding slowly.

“If Avery realized that teams lose championships much more than they win them, she might feel differently, maybe go