Hard Drive to Short Read Free Page B

the pouch and went to work on the bike. He could not see where it really needed polishing,
     but he rubbed and rubbed all over the bright metal surface anyway. Now and then he looked up, hoping that Rod would return
     so they could be on their way.
    But Rod seemed to have made himself comfortable on the grass next to one of the girls’ teams’ benches. Sandy put the cloth
     away, sat and waited. Rod didn’t leave until the game was over. By that time Sandy was really tired of hanging around.
    He said nothing, though. He guessed that when guys got older they hung around with girls some. Sandy didn’t care. He felt
     good just being with Rod. Not only good, but big, too.

5
    T HE next time Sandy saw Rodney was early Tuesday afternoon. Rodney took him riding on the motorbike again and stopped at a
     miniature golf course at the edge of town.
    “How about playing a game?” Rod asked.
    “Okay. But you’ll beat me. I’m not good at miniature golf.”
    “So what?” They got off the bike, and Rod pulled it back on its stand. Then he reached into his pocket. Suddenly a lookSandy had seen on Rod’s face before was there again.
    “Well,” said Rod, “guess we can’t play. Stupid me. I forgot my wallet again.”
    Once more Sandy brought out his wallet.
    “Forget it,” said Rod. “We can play some other time.”
    “I’ve got money for both of us,” insisted Sandy. “I’ll pay.”
    Rod grinned. “Boy, it seems that you’re always loaded. How do you make your money, kid?”
    Sandy shrugged. “I get an allowance every week for doing chores around the house.” Sandy didn’t mention that one of his chores
     was babysitting his sisters.
    “Oh, no wonder!” Rod’s grin widened. “In that case, I’ll let you pay! But you’ll have to let me pay sometime. Okay?”
    “Okay.” The way Rod looked at him, the way he said that — Sandy didn’t know whether Rod was kidding him, or what.
    They played golf and Rod won by four points.
    An hour before the Batwings-Spacemen game on Thursday, Sandy, dressed in his baseball uniform and carrying his glove on his
     wrist, walked across the street to see if Rod was out in the driveway. He wasn’t. Neither was the motorbike, though it could
     be in the garage.
    Sandy had hoped he’d see Rod. Maybe, just maybe, Rod might have offered to give him a ride to the game.
    Disappointed, Sandy walked the four blocks to the ball field.
    “You’re not going to be running home halfway through the game today, areyou?” Marty Loomis said as they played catch with each other.
    “I’ve got to be home by a quarter of seven,” replied Sandy.
    “Why?”
    “I have something to do, that’s why. Now quit asking questions, will you?”
    You couldn’t tell every guy on the team you had to watch over your little sisters. They’d rag on you forever.
    The Batwings were up first. Sandy started at short. Duke Miller was on the mound.
    “All right! Some noise out there!” yelled Coach Malone from the bench. “What are you — statues?”
    The men started chattering like a cageful of monkeys. The Batwings’ leadoff man stepped to the plate. Duke, a lefthander,
     stepped to the mound. CatcherMarty Loomis gave him a sign. Duke wound up and delivered. The batter swung at the first pitch.
Crack!
A sizzling grounder to short.
    For an instant Sandy felt his nerves jangle. He had thought he was ready for a ball hit toward him, but now that it was coming
     at him he felt caught off guard. The batter’s hitting that first pitch was a surprise.
    “Take it, Sandy!” shouted Kerry Dean from third.
    Sandy bent over to field the ball. It was coming hard and fast, faster than he realized. He lowered his glove, felt the ball
     smack solidly into the pocket, then rose and pegged it to first.
    Out!
    “Nice play, Sandy!” Nibbs Spry yelled from the other side of the keystone sack.
    The ball zipped around the horn. Sandy caught the throw from Kerry, tossed it to Nibbs, then stood in his position at