Switcharound by Lois Lowry Read Free Book Online Page A

notebook. "Anybody get any grounders on the first hop?" he asked.
    No one raised a hand. "I would have," Matthew Birnbaum said, "but stupid Kristin got in my way."
    "I did not!" shouted Kristin. "You dumb bomb-brain Birnbaum!"
    Caroline backed the baby carriage away from the dust cloud that rose as the scuffle began. Holly and Ivy peered over the edge of the carriage, their eyes wide, at the sound of angry shouts.
    Finally the fight subsided. Several Tater Chips were crying and, as usual, one had a bloody nose, and several shirts were ripped. "See you tomorrow at practice," J.P. said as he walked away, Poochie trudging behind. "Don't forget we have the big game against the Half-pints on Friday. That's just three days away!
    "I wonder what their mothers think when they come home," he said to Caroline. "They always look as if they've been in a war."
    "They
have
been," Caroline pointed out. She tilted the carriage to get it up over the curb as they crossed the street. The babies slipped forward, and the one in the pink hat started to whimper. "You ought to help them more, J.P.
Teach
them how to hit and throw and catch. They're just little kids, for heaven's sake. Shhh, Holly. Quit crying." She jiggled the carriage. But the baby in the yellow hat joined her sister and they both began to wail.
    "Quit criticizing, Caroline," J.P. said. "What do you know about it? You don't have any idea what it's like, to get stuck with a job you don't want and don't know how to do. And quit shaking the carriage. No
wonder
they're crying. Here, give it to me."
    J.P. took the handle of the baby carriage. He stopped it, leaned in, and spoke to the babies. "Hey, girls. Shhhh. No problem; you just slid forward. Here. I'll put you back where you belong." One by one he lifted the babies back against their pillows and settled them there. Holly's crying stopped; her chin quivered, and she smiled, finally, up at J.P. Then Ivy stopped wailing abruptly and grinned. J.P. pushed the carriage forward, ignoring Caroline.
    She didn't care. She had turned back to walk with Poochie, who was plodding along unhappily, rubbing his eyes with his arm and sniffling.
    "Of course you can learn to hit, Pooch," she was telling him. "This afternoon I'll work with you out in the back yard. We'll practice keeping your eye on the ball, okay?"
    "Okay," Poochie sniffled. "But don't throw them hard. J.P. always throws them wicked hard."
    "I won't," Caroline reassured him. "We'll start real slow. Now: no more crying."
    "Okay." Poochie gave one last moist sniffle and grinned up at her.
    "Shoulders straight," Caroline said.
    He pulled his little slumped shoulders upright and took a deep breath. "Okay," he said.

    In the afternoon while the babies slept, Caroline worked with Poochie in the yard for more than an hour. At the end of that time, she flopped, exhausted, into the grass. Poochie sank down beside her eagerly.
    "I'm better now, aren't I?" he asked. "I'm better! I know I'm better!"
    Caroline put her arm around him and nodded. "You sure are, Pooch. You really got some hits!"
    She had been keeping count in her head. Her arm ached from pitching to Poochie: slow, accurate pitches that almost contacted the bat on their own. She had counted each one.
    One hundred and fourteen. She had pitched one hundred and fourteen pitches.
    And he had hit four of them. Caroline wasn't a math genius like J.P., so she didn't know how to figure out Poochie's batting average. But he had hit four out of one hundred and fourteen, and it was bound to be a big improvement over his previous batting average, which had been zero.

9
    One thing Caroline had to admit: Dinner was better in Des Moines than it was in New York.
    It wasn't that Caroline's mother was a bad cook. Actually, she was a pretty good cook, and she had a collection of recipes that she tore out of magazines in the laundromat and the dentist's office. The trouble was, she never had much time for cooking. She didn't get home from her job at the