Angels Walking Read Free Page A

from the Reds ever since the season started. Tonight, finally, the scouts were here. They actually wanted him. That’s what Jep said. The Reds’ director of player personnel knew his name and his numbers. Every wonderful statistic from this season. Tyler was just what they were looking for. They even knew about his past.
    And they still wanted him.
    Tyler set his jacket on the bench and jogged out to the mound. On the way he stopped and talked to his catcher.“More of the same.” He brushed his glove against William’s shoulder. “Talk to me, Trap. Keep me perfect.”
    “You got it.”
    He reached the mound and glanced up. When was the last time a guy in the AA minor leagues threw a perfect game? The Pensacola faithful were on their feet. Tyler Ames was about to make history. They could feel it. This was their night as much as it was his.
    The beautiful oceanfront stadium had opened two years ago, and already it topped the list of places to see, things to do on the Florida Panhandle. The fans had bought into the Blue Wahoos, the team more than any individual player.
    But tonight was different. Tonight the Blue Wahoo fans loved Tyler Ames. They knew his name. He could hear them.
    Bottom of the lineup for the team from South Carolina. Easy as the waves in the bay, he thought. If only his parents could have been here tonight. If Sami could see how he’d made good after all. He was going to be moved up to the big show. It was actually going to happen. Breathe, Ames . . . just breathe. He focused on William’s glove. The batter was a washed-up second baseman from the Bigs who had been sent down to the AA leagues after an injury. He couldn’t swing a bat the way he once had.
    Williams flashed him a signal. Tyler nodded. Yes, a fastball. That’s exactly what he wanted. He lifted his knee and wound up the way he had ten thousand times. In a burst of motion he fired the ball over the plate. The batter didn’t swing, didn’t even have time to blink.
    “Steee-rike!” The umpire was getting excited, too.
    Tyler kept a straight face, but all around him it was happening.His teammates were behind him. He could feel the focus of his infield, feel the gloves of the outfield ready to react. He threw a slider and the batter connected. At the crack of the bat, Tyler’s heart skipped a beat. He watched the trajectory overhead. Get it, he thought. Please get it. His teammate at centerfield responded. Fly out.
    One down. Still perfect.
    A grounder to first took care of the next batter. Tyler felt stronger now than he had at the beginning of the game. He settled himself on the mound and stared at the catcher. Change-up to start the batter. Tyler liked it. He wound up and caught the guy watching. Strike one. The second pitch was outside, same with the third.
    The fans at Bayfront Stadium fell to a hush. He couldn’t throw another ball or the batter would walk. Breathe, Ames. He could be perfect. It would happen. He stared at William. His catcher signaled for a fastball. Tyler shook his head. Not for this batter. The guy had hit four home runs this month.
    Next he called for a curveball. Atta boy, William. Perfect pitch. Tyler gave the slightest nod. This was it. A curveball would sail straight toward the plate and break hard to the inside. By then the batter would bite, and the swing would be a strike.
    Another notch closer to perfection.
    Tyler settled back on his heels, glove up, ball in his hand. The windup was everything it needed to be. He uncoiled himself and released the ball just as he planned, like he’d done all his life. But this time he heard something snap. Instantly fire ripped through his arm and down his torso, the sort of pain Tyler had never known before.
    “Steee-rike!” The umpire made the call.
    Tyler was already on the ground, writhing beneath the searing pain. The noise from the stadium dimmed and the only sounds were his racing heart and his own terrible groaning. People were running to him, but he