The Submarine Pitch by Matt Christopher Read Free Book Online Page B

then tried to pull the same trick on Buzz. But Buzz connected
     with the ball solidly, driving it like a meteor over the left-field fence for a long home run. Tom and Rudy both got out,
     but four runs had scored. 8–5, Rangers.
    The Atoms failed to get a man on during their turn at bat and held the Rangers to one run in the top of the fifth.
    They scored once when they came to bat, then kept the Rangers scoreless in the top of the last inning. With two outs in the
     bottom of the sixth, they got things rolling again. Foxy started it by winning a free ticket to first. Then Needle socked
     a crazy dribbler down to short, which Bill muffed.
    Nervous now, and fearing that a hit might start a real hitting spree, Bernie threw four pitches to Nick Collodino, all balls.
    The bases were loaded, and Petey was up.

10
    P etey was a fair batter. He already had a single to his credit. A long hit could clear the bases and give the Rangers something
     to worry about.
    “Ball!” yelled the ump as Bernie blazed in his first pitch.
    What am I going to do — walk him, too?
Bernie asked himself.
    He concentrated on pitching then, and placed the next one over the plate. He grooved the next one in the same place, and Petey
     swung wildly.
    “Strike two!” yelled the ump.
    The next pitch snaked up and Petey did it again.
    “Strike three!” boomed the ump.
    The game was over. Bernie sighed with relief.
    He ran off the mound, the Ranger fans applauding him. His parents and AnnMarie came down from the stands and praised him,
     too.
    “I like that pitch of yours,” his father said, his eyes dancing. “So that’s your famous submarine pitch, is it?”
    Bernie beamed. “That’s what they call it,” he said. “You know that Dave Grant told me about it and showed me how to throw
     it, don’t you?”
    “Yes, I heard that,” said his father. “I guess you owe Dave quite a lot.”
    Bernie nodded. “Yes, I do, Dad.”
    He looked for Dave and Frankie and saw them coming. They showered Bernie withsome of their own brand of praise, then they all walked home together. Bernie couldn’t help noticing how pale Dave looked.
    “You okay, Dave?” he asked. “You look pale.”
    Dave shrugged. “I’m okay,” he said.
    You’re lying
, thought Bernie.
You’re sick. You must be sick if your face is almost the color of milk
.
    At Bernie’s house Dave asked if he could telephone his mother.
    “You are sick, aren’t you?” said Bernie.
    “Well, just tired. I thought I’d ask my mom to come for me.”
    “Why should you do that?” said Mr. Shantz. “I’ll drive you home.”
    “But —”
    “No buts,” said Mr. Shantz, and went to the garage to get his car. “Come on.”
    Bernie watched Dave get into the car and ride off. Something was definitely wrongwith Dave, he was sure of it. But what? That’s what he wanted to know.
    A few days later, shortly after lunch, Bernie got a phone call from Dave. It was July 18, the day the Rangers were to meet
     the Sharks for the second time.
    “Hi, Dave,” said Bernie. “What’s up?”
    “I was wondering if you’d like to walk uptown with me,” said Dave.
    “Why?”
    “I’ll tell you when I see you.”
    “Okay. See you in a little while.”
    Bernie told his mother where he was going, then walked over to Dave’s house. Dave met him outside and they started to walk
     uptown.
    “I’ve been saving up dough for a model,” said Dave, a tone of pride in his voice. “The
Constitution.”
    “Hey, that’s great.”
    “I didn’t want to mention it on the phone because I don’t want my parents to know about it,” explained Dave. “Not yet, anyway.”
    Bernie stared at him. “You getting it for them?”
    “No. It’s for me. But I want to surprise them just the same.”
    In about fifteen minutes they reached the business district. They came to a hobby shop, and Dave paused in front of its large
     display window. It was jam-packed with art crafts and models of airplanes, cars, railroads,