Mickey & Me Read Online Free PDF Page A

pushed her way through the crowd. She appeared to be a little older than the others, twenty-five or so. I felt as though I had seen her before somewhere, but I couldn’t place her. She had dark eyes and brown hair, and she was a few inches taller than me.
    â€œI’m Mickey Maguire,” she said. “Are you the new mascot?”
    I most certainly was not the new mascot. But I made the instant decision that being a mascot forthis team might be a pretty good job to have.
    â€œYeah, I’m the new mascot,” I lied.
    â€œTerrific,” Mickey said, pulling a box out of the locker next to hers. “Put this on.”
    I opened the box. Inside was a giant yellow chicken suit with a separate head.
    â€œI have to wear this?”
    â€œWe’re the Chicks.” Mickey said the word slowly, like I might be dumb. “Our mascot is a chicken. What did you think you’d be wearing, an elephant costume?”
    The girls got a good laugh over that. Mickey moved me over to her locker and turned me around so I couldn’t see the girls putting on their uniforms. I slipped my legs into the chicken suit.
    Somebody turned on a radio. The singer sounded like Frank Sinatra or one of those other old-time crooners my mom listens to from time to time just to annoy me.
    â€œWhat happened to the last chicken?” I asked Mickey as I struggled to pull the zipper on the chicken suit past the feathers, which kept getting in the way.
    â€œWe ate him,” Mickey cracked, letting out a laugh. “No, he quit actually. We scared him off.”
    Mickey’s locker was filled with catcher’s equipment, bandages, medicine, ice packs, and other medical supplies.
    â€œTape and guts keep me going,” she said when she noticed me looking at her stuff.
    There were two photographs taped up in her locker: one of a horse and the other of a guy wearing a military uniform.
    â€œIs that your boyfriend?” I asked.
    â€œMy husband,” she replied. “He’s a corporal in the army. Overseas for two years now.”
    â€œIs he a part of the D day invasion?”
    â€œNo, thank goodness. Tom is stationed in Italy. At the end of every letter, he always writes, ‘When the Allies take Rome, I’m coming home.’”
    â€œIs that your horse?” I asked.
    â€œYup. That’s Chico’s Flame. I raised him myself. Got him hitched up beyond the left field fence. Do a good job and I’ll give you a ride later.”
    I finally got the chicken costume on. The head attached to the body with a series of hooks. It was too tall for me to see out the eyes, but I could look and talk out of the mouth.
    â€œYou look like a real chicken,” Mickey said, turning me around.
    The girls were dressed in their uniforms now. I turned my chicken head until I found Merle, the girl who had said I was cute. To my eyes, she was the prettiest girl on the team. I thought I saw her flip me a wink.
    Most of the girls were about my size—five foot five—with the exception of the really tall blonde. She was skinny, with long arms and legs. The girls were hanging around, doing crossword puzzles, putting on lipstick, and fixing their hair in the mirrorshanging from each locker.
    Their uniform looked like it had been designed for dancing, not for playing baseball. It was a gray dress, with short sleeves, red trim, and a belt. On their feet were regular baseball spikes, and black socks that came up almost to the knees. Their caps had a red bill and a big M inside a yellow circle. On the front of the uniform was a large circle with the words “City of Milwaukee” on the top and “Wisconsin” on the bottom.
    â€œHow do you slide wearing that uniform?” I asked Mickey.
    â€œIt isn’t easy, kid,” she replied, lifting her dress to reveal a six-inch-long patch of reddened, scraped, and scabbed-over skin on her right thigh. “But if you want to play, you’ve got to