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

luck. Like the great Yogi Berra once said, “It ain’t over till it’s over.”

Sure enough, things started to fall apart for Sharlee’s team in the fifth inning. Four straight batters hit the ball really hard. Sharlee made one spectacular catch on a line drive over her head—but she couldn’t stop the onslaught alone, and her teammates made a couple of key errors in the infield to make the damage worse.

Looking at Sharlee, Derek could see that she was upset with what was happening—and particularly about the error. She knows she would have made that play, he thought.

By the time the inning was over, Sharlee’s team was behind, 8–5. Derek couldn’t see his sister’s face, but he knew for sure that she was steaming mad. When her team went down one, two, three in the top of the sixth, Sharlee’s magic carpet ride was over—she and her undefeated team had come crashing down to Earth.

Sharlee threw her mitt against the chain-link fence, refusing to go shake hands with the winning team—until her dad knelt down beside her and said something in her ear, his hand on her shoulder. She angrily yanked herself free—but she did go over and shake hands, murmuring “Good game” like all the rest of her tearful teammates.

“Hey, slugger,” Derek said when he caught up to her. “Don’t get too down. You played a great game.”

“No I didn’t!” she shouted, still upset. “We lost!”

“Hey, it happens.” Derek knew it wasn’t what she wanted to hear. But it was the truth. “You did your best, and you did great—knocked in two runs, made a great catch—you almost had a homer there. That’s pretty good for one game.”

“Not for me! If we lose, that means we were bad! And Daddy messed everything up.”

“What?”

“He put me at first base and moved everybody around and let Tara play shortstop.”

“Sharlee, coaches have to play every player in every game. That’s the rules. And hey, what about that catch you made?”

“So? We lost!”

“Come on, Sharlee. Teams lose or win games—not any one player or coach. And you won every other game you played! You know, my team’s lost three games this year. You should be proud of yourself. And hey—didn’t you have fun?” As he said the words, Derek could hear his dad’s voice, telling him the same thing.

“I did have fun. Until today,” Sharlee said, pouting, but calming down a little.

“I know, losing stinks—but that’s baseball. You lose sometimes, no matter how good you are.”

“I guess…”

“Listen, I think Dad’s feeling bad. Maybe you should go say something to cheer him up. Maybe give him a hug, and a ‘thank you’ for doing such a good job.”

“No! He was supposed to win us the championship, like he did for you!”

“He tried, Sharlee. He really did. Just like you did. And I’m sure he feels just as badly.”

“Mmmm… okay.” She turned to go.

“Hey, Sharlee?”

“Yeah?”

“Don’t worry. The way you play? You’re going to win a ton of championships.”

That made her smile. “Thanks,” she said, then ran to their dad. Derek watched as he got down on his knees to hug her, Sharlee’s face buried deep in his shoulder.

A few minutes later, as the family was walking back to the car, Sharlee turned to Derek. “I’ll comfort you when you lose too,” she said, taking his hand.

“Aw, thanks, Sharlee. But who says we’re going to lose, huh? I mean, what if we win?”

Sharlee shrugged. “Then at least Mommy and I won’t have to change the cake—” She yanked her hand away, suddenly angry again. “Aaaahhh! Derek!”

“What?” he asked, his arms out. “What did I do?”

“You made me tell!”

“Tell what?”

“The secret! Grrrr!”

“I didn’t make you do anything!”

“Yes, you did!”

So that was it—she and their mom were making him a special birthday cake! Derek resisted the urge to smile. He knew it would only make her madder. But now that she’d blown it, what could he do?

Luckily, the answer came to him. “You know what? I didn’t even hear what you said, Sharlee.”

“Yes, you did!”

“No, really! Because you were mumbling. What was it? Something about a rake? Or a snake or something?”

Sharlee looked at him, suspicious. “You sure you didn’t hear?”

“Seriously.”

“You swear?”

“Come on, Sharlee—tell me what you said. I can keep a secret.”

“No! The secret is about you, silly!”

“Oh…. Come on, tell me—please…. Pretty please.”

“Never mind,” she said, folding her arms in satisfaction. “You’ll see when it’s time.”

That seemed to do the trick. He’d have to work on his surprised face in the mirror, just to make sure he did a good job when Sharlee gave him the cake.

He didn’t normally like to deceive Sharlee, but in this case he decided to give himself a pass.

She seemed to be okay again at dinner. She and their dad went over all the great moments from their season, and by the time they’d finished dessert, Sharlee was in a fine mood.

She said, “Derek, you go into the living room—and promise to stay in there and NOT come into the kitchen. Mommy and I have work to do.”

Derek’s birthday was coming up that Sunday, and he guessed the cake/rake/snake was in process. He pretended not to be interested, focusing instead on reviewing for the standardized tests the next day.

It was almost eight o’clock when the phone rang. Mrs. Jeter picked it up. “Hello? Oh! Hello, Ms. Mullins.”

Derek looked up. Avery’s mother had called only once or twice before. Why was she calling now?

“Sure…. Oh, I see…. Is she all right?” Derek’s mom was quiet for a long time, listening. Derek found himself making fists with his hands, and shook them out, blowing out a tense breath. What could they be talking about?

“Of course,” said Mrs. Jeter. “He’s right here.” She held out the receiver. “Derek? Avery’s mom.”

Derek took the phone. “Hello.”

“Derek, it’s Samantha Mullins, Avery’s mom.”

“Uh-huh?”

“I had to take Avery to the doctor today.”

“Oh…” Suddenly Derek felt something flip inside his stomach. “Is she… okay?”

“She’ll be fine—but she has severe gastritis. Meaning a severely upset stomach. The doctor says it’s stress-related.”

“Uh-huh…”