Ann Martin - Kristy And The Walking Disaster

At the start of the second inning, I let Jackie be the catcher. Like Karen, he loved wearing the mask and mitt. You could tell he felt professional.

Buddy Barrett was pitching now. He pitched to Jamie. Jamie concentrated, tried not to look scared, and ducked at the last minute. The ball slammed into Jackie's mouth.

"Jackie!" I cried. "What happened to the mask? You were just wearing it."

"I had to take it off, Coach," he replied. "I got my gum stuck on it. I wanted to see if I could make it look like a waffle by pressing it against the mask. You know, like you can do with Silly Put - Uh-oh!"

"What?" I asked.

"My mouth's bleeding! I think I knocked out my tooth. . . . No, it's just loose. Very loose."

I may make comments about food to gross out my friends, but I'll tell you one thing that

grosses me out: very loose teeth. Especially bloody ones.

Claudia knows that. She stepped over to look in Jackie's mouth. "It's so loose it could practically fall out," she said. "Do you want me to pull it for you, Jackie? I've got a Kleenex right here."

Oh, oh, ew.

"All right," agreed Jackie.

The entire team crowded around to watch the proceedings. Not me, though. I stood as far away as possible. I pretended to check on our equipment.

A few minutes later, I saw the kids disperse. Jackie held up a tissue. "My tooth's in here, Coach!" he announced. He ran over to me and smiled a gap-toothed, slightly bloody smile. "I just love losing teeth."

Ew. I never liked losing teeth. I'm glad I'm past that stage. "Put the Kleenex and your tooth in your pocket," I told Jackie.

We played another inning, and I must say that everybody played harder than before. The kids tried hard, too, just like Mallory and Claudia said the four Krushers had done in the game against the triplets.

But it was getting late.

"I think this game is over," I said at the end

of the inning. "How many of you guys have bought T-shirts and iron-on letters?"

Most of the kids raised their hands.

"Good," I told them. "Try to wear your shirts to our next practice. Then we'll really look like a team, and everyone will know we're the Krushers."

The kids began to leave. Charlie arrived to pick up Karen, Andrew, David Michael, and me, and take us to our homes. (Karen and Andrew were going to their mom's house.) After they'd been dropped off, I began to daydream. I daydreamed about Bart. I'd been doing that a lot lately.

An idea came to me.

"Hey, David Michael," I said, "want me to walk Shannon for you tonight?"

David Michael loves Shannon, but he also loves getting out of his chores.

"Sure!" he replied. Then he narrowed his eyes. "What do I have to do for you?" he asked suspiciously.

Do for me? I hadn't thought about that, but what an opportunity.

"Umm ..." I replied slowly, "learn five signs you need to know to play ball with Matt Braddock. Call Nicky Pike and ask him for help, okay?"

"Okay!"

David Michael thought he'd gotten the better part of the deal, but I knew that (with any luck) I had.

When supper was over that night, I found Shannon in the den, chewing on a rubber toy that looked like a steak.

"Want to go for a W-A-L-K?" I asked her.

We started spelling walk so Shannon wouldn't get all excited and think she was going out every time she heard the word. But we spelled it so often that Shannon has figured out what W-A-L-K means.

She abandoned the toy, leaped to her feet, and bounded to the back door, where I clipped on her leash. Then I told Mom and Watson that I was going to walk Shannon, and I set off. I wasn't just walking Shannon, though. I was walking Shannon by Bart Taylor's house. Pretty clever, huh?

I thought so. So I was totally surprised when, only halfway over there, who should I see coming toward me, but Bart! He was walking a rottweiler on this chain that could have tethered a lion. (In case you don't know, a rottweiler is your basic, gigantic dog. Next to Bart's dog, Shannon looked like a mouse.)

Bart and I spotted each other at the same time and called, "Hi!" Then we both slowed

down. We weren't sure how our dogs would behave.

"This is Twinkle," Bart said. "He looks fierce, but he wouldn't hurt a flea."

"And Shannon," I replied, "won't believe that Twinkle wouldn't hurt a flea . . . but let's see what happens."

Poor Shannon approached Twinkle with her tail tucked between her legs. The dogs circled each other and sniffed, and Shannon discovered she was so little she could walk right under Twinkle, which Bart and I thought was pretty funny. When we realized that the dogs were going to be okay, we stood there on the sidewalk as night fell, and began to talk.

I told Bart how the Krushers were doing.

Bart laughed.

"What?" I asked.

"I don't believe it. My team's called the Bashers. The Bashers and the Krushers!"

It was funny.

Then I said, "Have you ever run into a kid who's afraid of balls and ducks them?"

Bart looked thoughtful. "I don't think so. But most of my kids are a little older than yours. They're about seven to nine. They're pretty much past being afraid of the ball and stuff. They're not great players, but they aren't babies."

"The Krushers aren't babies!" I cried.

Bart flushed. "Lighten up," he said. "I didn't really mean that. I was just pointing out that the Bashers are older."

"Sorry," I said, and then practically melted as the streetlights came on and caught Bart's hair, giving it a sort of glow.

Bart was the cutest guy I had ever seen.

"Hey," said Bart, "I've got an idea. Just to show you that I think your team is as good as mine, even if the kids are younger, how about a game? Bart's Bashers challenge Kristy's Krushers."

A game? A real game? Against Bart's team? I didn't know if the Krushers were ready for something like that, but I wasn't about to say no. I couldn't let Bart think I was afraid of his team. Besides, if we set up a game, I'd be sure to see him again - soon.

"Sure," I replied. "How about two weeks from Saturday? Is that enough time for the Bashers to get ready?"

"Of course! But what about the Krushers?"

"Oh, they'll be ready."

I grinned at Bart and he grinned back.

As I walked Shannon home a few minutes later, I felt as if there were cotton balls under my feet instead of concrete. And I'm sure my eyes were shining.

Chapter 9.

Boy. Thanks to me, Jessi really did have an easy sitting job. But I'm not complaining. After all, coaching a softball team was my idea. Jessi couldn't help it if Buddy and Suzi were on the team.

I have to admit that Jessi saw an unusual practice, though. I mean, a more exciting one than most. The kids gathered at the playground right on time - and every last one of them was wearing a Kristy's Krushers T-shirt, even the kids who hadn't yet bought shirts and letters when I'd asked about that before. I was wearing a Krushers shirt, too. After all, I was the coach.

You could almost taste the excitement in the air.

I got to the playground early. Watson had driven David Michael and me over and was going to stay to watch the practice. He headed

for the stands, saying he would keep out of our way.

David Michael beamed as he helped me check the equipment. "We're a real team now," he said at least three times. "And everyone will know you're our coach. I like that. Red letters."

It was true that my shirt was lettered in red while the kids' shirts were lettered in black, but I was hoping a few other things might be clues that I was coach - like, I was thirteen instead of 5.8, and taller than the players.

The kids began to show up, all wearing T-shirts over sweat shirts or other shirts since it was a cool day.

"Hi-hi!" called Jamie, arriving with Gabbie, Myriah, and Mr. Perkins.