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

all my experience, I can help you practice for them,” Vijay offered.

“You would do that?”

“Sure! It will be fun to study together. And even more fun watching Gary wear a chicken suit!”

Derek laughed. Somehow, as he always did, his old friend had found a way to make Derek feel better. Just the thought of Vijay and his big brain helping him study gave Derek hope.

The bus pulled into the Mount Royal stop, and the two boys got off. “See you at four thirty?” Vijay asked.

“I’ll be there,” Derek told him. “Aren’t I always?”

One good thing about finals coming up was that Derek’s teacher had let them off the hook as far as homework was concerned.

“Seriously?” his dad asked, raising a doubtful eyebrow.

“Dad,” Derek said, tilting his head, “not only finals but standardized tests, too!”

“I see,” said Mr. Jeter, who was going through a pile of work he’d brought home from his office. “And how much time did you just put into studying?”

“An hour and fifteen minutes. Dad, my brain can’t take in any more right now. Please?”

“Are you off to the Hill, then?”

“Yup. Thanks, Dad!” Derek said, rushing to the hall closet to grab his mitt and bat.

“Say hi to everybody,” said his dad as Derek flew out the door. “Especially Vijay and Dave. Tell them good luck in the playoffs.”

Derek heard that last part as he pulled the front door closed behind him. He set off at a run, headed for the open slope in the middle of Mount Royal Townhouses that all the kids called Derek Jeter’s Hill.

And why shouldn’t they name it after him? Derek practically lived there. Hardly a day went by when he wasn’t already waiting for whoever else happened to show up to play ball.

With stones and protruding tree roots for bases, and the occasional bush as an obstacle in the outfield, the Hill posed its challenges. But it was the only field of any kind close enough for the kids’ parents to still be within shouting distance.

There were already lots of kids out there, playing and taking fielding practice. One of Avery’s older friends, from her neighborhood, was hitting grounders and flies to the others. The local field in Avery’s neighborhood was under renovation, so those kids had all shifted over here, making the Hill more crowded than it used to be.

But Derek liked it—it meant they had enough kids to play real games. Avery’s friends had all been close to her brother—and, well, Derek liked playing with older kids. It brought out the best in his game.

He spotted Avery, fielding a hot grounder at second and flipping it back in. She waved to Derek, and he waved back. “Get out here!” she called. “I need my double-play partner!”

That was more like it—the usual Avery, relaxed and fun, and still as tough as nails.

Derek grinned, dropped his bat next to the backstop, and ran out to take his place at short.

Vijay came running down the path, waving as he took his place in right field—just in time to field a fly ball hit his way.

Derek looked around, shielding his eyes from the sun, trying to see if Dave had arrived yet. Dave was Derek’s other best friend. Except that lately they hadn’t seen each other as much as usual.

Dave had been on Derek’s previous Little League teams, but not this year. And that meant they had different schedules, different practices—not to mention they were in different classes at school this year too.

That’s weird, thought Derek. He said he’d be here…. It wasn’t like Dave to say he’d be someplace and then not show. And it wasn’t like he couldn’t get a ride for some reason. Dave’s family was rich and had their own driver, Chase Bradway, who was also Dave’s guardian. Chase looked after Dave whenever his mom and dad were away, which was most of the time. So Dave always had a lift to get wherever he needed.

Something must have come up. But what?

This was no time to think about it, though. They were already choosing sides for a pickup game.

Soon it was in full swing. And Derek approached every game like it was the seventh game of the World Series. Nothing else got in the way when he was on the field or at the plate, or even just watching the game from the bench.

Avery was the same way. But here on the Hill, where the stakes weren’t as high, she didn’t seem to stress out as much. And like most people, she played even better when she played loose.

About midway through the game, one of Avery’s older friends hit a screaming one-hopper to Derek’s right. He took two running steps, then dived for it—and skidded a full six feet on a bare patch scattered with sharp gravel.

Ouch. Ow… ow… He got up slowly, dusting off his chest and legs. The ribs on his right side burned, and he knew he’d skinned himself badly.

“You okay?” Avery called to him from second base.

“I’m fine,” he said, tensing his jaw and pounding his glove. He knew he wasn’t fine. But he was okay enough to go on playing. Derek was not going to let a mere flesh wound get him out of the game. Still, he knew it was going to take some tending to when he got home.

But what bothered him worse than his scratched ribs was Dave not showing up. It wasn’t like him, especially when he’d said only that day at lunch that he’d be there.

“Wouldn’t miss it!” Derek remembered him saying. “Not many more times we can get on a ball field together before school’s out and you head off to New Jersey.” As in Derek’s grandparents’ house, where he and Sharlee spent all their summers.

So what had happened to Dave?

Chapter Three SERIOUS BUSINESS

“Whoa. That’s some strawberry you’ve got there. It must sting pretty good, huh?” Derek’s mom was staring at his ribs. At least the scratches weren’t deep, and hadn’t