Keeping Score Read Free Page A

else?" George growled. "Teeny Joe
never
listened to the Yanks here. Nosirree, he knew we were a Dodger house and we—we respected him for respectin' that. Not like
some."
    And George ran his hand over his head and turned away. Jim and Maggie grinned at each other behind his back.
    "Gotta go," Maggie said.
    "Be seeing you," Jim said.
    And she heard the last out of the game while she was in Mr. Aldo's shop getting a box of sugar for Mom. 2–0, a close one, but the Dodgers won, and Maggie skipped home.

1—PITCHER
    The phone rang early the next morning. It was Treecie.
    Maggie and Treecie were best-friends-for-life, sworn way back in second grade. Not a blood vow—they had both been too scared to prick their fingers with a pin—but a spit vow, which everyone knew was almost as good.
    Treecie's whole name was Mary Theresa Brady. Her mother was Mary, too, so Mary Theresa was called Theresa, which had gotten shortened to Treecie. She was shorter than Maggie, but they both had brown hair and blue eyes and freckles. Treecie had more freckles than Maggie—they had once tried and failed to count them, but you could tell just by looking. Maggie got tan in the summer, like her dad. Treecie freckled.
    Their birthdays were exactly one month apart—November 19 for Treecie, December 19 for Maggie. They had already chosen their confirmation names: Treecie was going to be Mary Theresa Margaret Brady, and Maggie would be Margaret Olivia Theresa Fortini. Even though they wouldn't be confirmed until they were thirteen, it was nice to have it planned out.
    Treecie wanted to be a photographer. Last year, when they turned nine, Treecie had gotten her first camera, a used Brownie. Ever since then, Maggie had spent a lot of time posing for Treecie. Inside, outside, portraits, action shots, candids.... Film and developing were expensive, so Treecie didn't actually
take
very many photos, but she had Maggie pose all the same. "It's good practice," Treecie would insist as she peered through the viewfinder. "I have to develop my eye."
    Treecie was calling to say that she wanted to take photos of Maggie "with nature stuff." In Brooklyn that meant the park, and half an hour later, Maggie stepped out onto her front stoop just as Treecie came into sight from around the corner.
    "We should have brought Charky," Maggie said as they passed between the concrete pillars that marked the park's entrance. "He loves the park."
    The entrance they used was diagonally across the street from Maggie's house. The girls were allowed to go to the park on their own so long as they stayed within calling distance of the pillars.
    "Not this time," Treecie said firmly. "I got stuff I wanna do; he'd just get in the way." She looked around. "There," she said, "that little tree."
    Maggie walked over to the tree and turned to face Treecie.
    "No, not like that. I want you to stand farther back and put your head in between the branches. So there's leaves all around you."
    Maggie ducked under the lowest branch to get behind it, but straightened up too quickly.
    "Ouch!" she said, rubbing her head. "Never mind, I'm okay." She parted the leafy twigs, trying to find a place to pose comfortably. "Yeesh, scratchy."
    Leaves were tickling the back of her neck—at least she hoped they were leaves. What if they were bugs? She brushed at her neck with her hand just in case.
    At last she turned her face toward Treecie. "Hey!" she said.
    Treecie was standing a few yards away. She had made a square using her thumbs and forefingers; with one eye closed and her hands in front of her face, she peered at Maggie through the square.
    "You don't have your camera with you?" Maggie said. "First you wanna take pictures of me without any film, and now without a
camera
even?"
    "It's called 'framing the shot,'" Treecie said. "I'm learning how to frame a shot. I don't need the camera for that."
    "
I
do!" Maggie protested. "I mean,
I
don't need a camera, but I need
you
to have one! I