Say It Ain't So Read Free Page A

I’d be “Norb”? Or maybe “Norby”? Doesn’t sound that cool. Maybe I’d get a good one. I would do anything for a great nickname. Wouldn’t really want to be “Old Tomato Face,” though. PossiblyI could be like Garry Maddox: “the Secretary of Defense.” Do you think people really called him that, though? Like out at dinner? “Hey, the Secretary of Defense, could you pass the pepper?” Probably they just called him “Garry.”
    Anyway, Bendy was the star center fielder of 1982 and supposedly got a tryout with the Phils. He didn’t make it, but he was still a big shot and the most popular barber in town despite giving truly awful haircuts. Dads just wanted to take their kids there to hear his baseball stories of years ago.
    My point is, any kid on the high school team pretty much had it made. So the excitement started young. T-ball could get intense. Making the middle school team was like getting signed to the minors—the first step on a journey to the big time. You could have ugly clothes and your haircut could be the old Benderson special—long in front and short in random spots—but if you were on the baseball team, you’d be a golden child.
    So Mike had this ahead of him. State championships. Trophies. His name on a plaque. Everybody looking up to him. A half-decent career as a barber. What did
I
have to look forward to? Last year was pretty cool—winning that contest and solving the mystery of Blaze O’Farrell. But whatwas next? Had I already had my one and only moment in the sun? Were the clouds already gathering on the life of Lenny Norbeck?
    â€œAh, I’m just gonna head home,” I said. “I’m not feeling so great.” It wasn’t the truth but it wasn’t exactly a lie.
    â€œOh, okay,” Mike said with a shrug. “I guess I’ll see you at school on Monday.”
    â€œYeah,” I said. “Sure thing.”
    Before I even finished the short sentence, Mike was back with his nose in
Hey, You! Be a Better Ballplayer! Become a Star Catcher!
He was muttering under his breath, “The positioning of a catcher’s feet is of utmost importance.” Practicing his footwork, I guess. I heard his sneakers squeaking on the garage floor as I turned to ride home.

Back at school on a cold Monday morning, the talk through the halls was all of gifts received.
    â€œYou got the new first-person shooter game
War-Face 5: Faces of War-Face
?! Yeah, me too!”
    â€œYou got a bike? Awesome!”
    â€œYeah, but it’s too cold to ride it.”
    â€œSo what? Bike’s always a great gift.”
    I just listened. I had nothing to add. You know what’s
not
a great gift? Giving away all your stuff. So, yeah, I kept my head down and my mouth shut. At lunch it was pretty much the same.
    I tried to be friendly as the Mikes discussed their haul. Other Mike was going on and on about the new
Warlock Wallop
boxed set he got. Twenty-two books.
    â€œDon’t you already own all twenty-two?” Mike asked.
    â€œSure,” Other Mike said, talking louder than necessary. It was noisy in the cafeteria, but he was, like, yelling. “But this set includes newly drawn maps and character bio sheets and the box itself! Oh man, it’s made out of real dragon leather. Well, okay, not real dragon leather, but it feels just like it!”
    I wanted to ask Other Mike how he (or anyone) knows what real dragon leather feels like. And also how you could even make leather out of dragons anyway. Weren’t they covered in scales? But I wasn’t feeling nearly chipper enough for this sort of conversation. I just nodded my head up a little as if to say “Oh yeah,” and went back to eating my turkey sandwich. It tasted kind of gross and I chewed without enjoyment.
    Mike listened patiently and then proceeded to tell Other Mike about
his
Christmas gifts. It was of course all catching gear.