Maps by Nash Summers Read Free Book Online Page A

plummeting through space and time to punish the wicked, a gigantic ball flew faster than the speed of light directly at Maps’ face.
    He squawked—a very manly squawk, no doubt—and fell to the ground with his catching mitt over his head. The ball landed in front of him with a thud, billowing its way into the snow. Maps carefully stood up and dusted off.
    Lane chuckled. “Haven’t you ever played catch before?”
    “Uh, no. It feels like a waste of time.”
    “Come on. You’ll get the hang of it, then you’ll see how much fun it is. Here,” Lane said, stooping down and picking up a wad of snow. “Catch this. It’s not as hard as a softball, so you shouldn’t be compelled to duck and cover.”
    Lane tossed the snowball underhand. Maps watched as it slowly made its descent from above.
    He could do this. Lane was right. Snow wasn’t scary, and it definitely couldn’t hurt him. So he reached up with his glove, about where he expected the snowball to land, and waited.
    As soon as the snowball fell into Maps’ glove, it exploded like a million little snowflakes were just released for summer vacation. The snow poofed right into Maps’ face.
    Again, Lane laughed.
    Maps reached down to scoop up a snowball and tossed it at Lane, ignoring the fact that he could barely see anything with snow-covered glasses. He packed the snowball tight, lined up to throw, slipped on a patch of black ice, and face planted into the snow bank next to where he’d been standing.
    Lane was howling.
    Maps rolled onto his back, brushing the snow off his face with his mittens. Lane came over and crouched down in front of him.
    “I lost my glasses.” Maps felt around for them in the snow. “I think they might’ve gotten tossed over there.”
    Lane moved away from Maps, looking in the shallow piles of snow for the lost glasses. As quickly and quietly as he could, Maps scooped up a massive wad of snow, rounded it into a lop-sided ball, and hurled it at Lane’s back.
    When Lane whipped back around, Maps pretended to look around for his glasses. Lane flopped down beside Maps, handed him his glasses, and smiled.
    “You look like a little kid playing in the snow—your crooked glasses, your mismatched boots, and that ridiculous scarf.”
    Lane took his baseball hat off and ran his fingers through his hair, brushing some of the snow off the back. Maps noticed that with the sun reflecting off the snow onto Lane’s hair, it looked even paler.
    “Well, I am a kid compared to you, Old Man Rhodes.”
    “I’m only a year older than you.”
    “You’re practically ancient! Withering away into oblivion, I’d say.” A sardonic grin twitched at Maps’ mouth.
    “Come on,” Lane said, standing back up. “Let’s actually try this time.”
    And that’s how it started—Maps’ hidden love of baseball. Every time after Maps finished explaining exponents and trig basics, Lane and Maps played catch. The first couple of times, Maps grumbled and kicked his toes into the ground. Baseball was dumb, a waste of time, and he wasn’t being used to his full potential.
    But then that softball would glide over to him and it would’ve taken an earthquake to stop Maps from reaching out and grabbing for it.
     
    * * * *
     
    “Well, you look ridiculous,” Benji said.
    He was smirking, giving Maps an up-and-down look that reeked of not-so-subtle mockery.
    “Benji, you’re dressed like a flower ,” Maps replied, rolling his eyes.
    “Yes, but it suits me. Beautiful petals, elegant stems, handsome leaves. I think I should start dressing like this on a daily basis.”
    Maps tried not to laugh and go along with the joke. “You’re right. I look stupid dressed like a scientist, but you, dear Benji, are truly bringing out your inner beauty in that flower costume. I feel like this might be a life altering experience for you.”
    “Finally, you listen to what I’m saying.” Benji took his petal hand and fluffed up one of the bright pink petals near his