Soar by Joan Bauer Read Free Book Online Page B

Some kids handled it, but then the coach pushed beyond it—kids were burning out, getting injured, playing hurt. Parents were not happy. The winning got to be too much. A lot of kids dropped out. Bordin got fired and didn’t leave quietly.”
    â€œWhat did he do, Walt?”
    â€œI don’t know. A few of the kids still meet after school to play, but they don’t have enough for a team. There’s a group of parents who got turned off to baseball.”
    â€œThat’s terrible.”
    â€œI agree.”
    â€œDo you think the school wants to do something?”
    Walt parks the car. “I have a feeling some of the parents would fight that.”
    â€œIt’s not baseball’s fault, Walt!”
    I take out my phone and look up “Coach Bordin Hillcrest
.
” There’s an angry picture of him, and below that, there’s this:
I was doing the job I was hired to do!
    Walt pulls into the hospital lot and parks the car. “Ready?”
    We get out of the car, walk to the entrance. We head to the elevator, and it’s like I’m back at the hospital in St. Louis. Memories come rushing at me.
    We waited almost a year for me to get a new heart—a donor heart, they call it. Every day my bag was packed, every day we checked the phone again and again. You give up; you believe; you try not to think about it—sometimes it’s all you can think about. And when they called and said, “We have a heart for you,” we had to go right away. I felt so lucky. Not everyone who needs a new heart gets one. There aren’t enough to go around.
    â€œYou’re going to make it through, Jer.” That’s what Walt told me right before the surgery. “Be brave now. I’ll see you soon.”
    The nurse came in. “Jeremiah, they’re ready for you in OR.”
    I wasn’t sure I was ready for them, but I’d studied being brave. The people who are good at it, like Walt,seemed to focus on a good outcome, not on the stuff that can go wrong.
    I pictured myself with my new heart, running to catch a pop fly; hitting a liner into the gap; sliding into second base; and squeezing out a double. But when I got into the operating room, all that courage went splat. I started to cry. I said, “I need my dad.”
    Some brave kid.
    Dr. Feinberg said, “Jeremiah. Look at me.” I tried to do that and not look at what was happening around him. “We know exactly what to do.”
    That calmed me down. They put me to sleep. That’s all I remember, and when I woke up, all I could think was,
I made it.
    I had a ventilator to help me breathe and tubes in my chest. But that didn’t matter.
    I made it!
    â—†Â â—†Â â—†
    â€œThe doctor will see you now.”
    Dr. Sarah Dugan has the same plastic heart on her desk that Dr. Feinberg has on his desk. Walt drops his phone when we come in.
    I smile at the heart—it feels like home. “Is there a catalog for these things?” I ask her.
    â€œYes.” She pushes back her blonde hair. “Cardiologist shirts, cards, ties, socks, posters.” She holds up a coffee mug: JUST LIKE THE OTHER DOCTORS, ONLY SMARTE R .
    Okay, I like you.
    Walt laughs and drops his phone again.
    Did I mention she’s also pretty?
    She’s looking through my file. “How are you feeling?”
    â€œOkay.”
    â€œSince we’ve just met, Jeremiah, you need to define ‘okay.’”
    â€œI didn’t sleep all that well last night. I’m a little tired, but I’m dealing with it.”
    â€œAny chest pain?”
    â€œNo.”
    She walks over to where I’m sitting on the examining table. She puts her hand over my heart, presses.
    â€œAny pain?”
    â€œNo.”
    She keeps her hand there, puts her other hand on my back. “Cough, please.”
    I do.
    â€œAny pain?”
    â€œNo.”
    She listens to my heart with her stethoscope, then goes through my