Never Blame the Umpire Read Online Free PDF

about your help. You’d help by eating all the marshmallows. Untoasted. And not have any room left for hamburgers.” He winks and dives off the raft.
    “There’s always room for hamburgers!” I call after him.
    Ken and I sit on the edge of the raft, dangling our feet into the water. The water seems cooler at the raft’s edge, but not cold. Just right. I watch Mama spreading food on a tablecloth. Dad stands next to the grill.
    “What do you think’s wrong?” I ask.
    “What do you mean?”
    “You saw them last night. And this morning. Mama seemed…different.”
    “Different? You’re crazy.” Ken lifts his right foot and slaps it down onto the water, splashing drops upward into a miniature fountain.
    “Maybe,” I say. “But I’m worried about them.”
    “You always worry too much. Everything’s cool. We’re having a picnic. I mean, they got off work early just so we could come here.”
    “That’s what I mean. Doesn’t that seem strange to you? Have they ever taken off work before so we could go on a picnic?”
    Ken’s only answer is a shrug.
    Mama waves to us, and we dive from the raft and swim to shore. We learned to swim almost before we could walk. We’ve always done athletic things together as a family—softball, tennis, swimming, golf. I have good friends I like to be with, but my favorite times are when our family does things together. I’m lucky. Not many of my friends can say that about their parents, except maybe Ginny.
    I know it’s silly to worry when there probably isn’t anything wrong, but I still can’t shake the feeling that things aren’t right.

Eight
the talk
    After we finish eating, we all sprawl out on a big blanket Dad brought, one big enough for all four of us with room still left over. I’m stuffed from all the burgers and marshmallows. I don’t know what I was so worried about. The day has been great. I can’t imagine how it could be better. For one thing, class was really fun. The weather is perfect. We had the lake to ourselves earlier. Since we got out of the water a few others have come, but it’s still not very crowded.
    Today’s picnic was something I didn’t expect, but it’s nice that Mama and Dad came home from work early so we could all come here. Ken has the rightidea. Why worry when there’s nothing to worry about?
    I haven’t written my new poems for Monday yet, but I’m not worried about that, either. I have the whole weekend and I know I can get at least two or three new poems out of what’s happened at this picnic. I already have one in mind, how a big army of ants dropped down on our food. That didn’t happen, but I think it will make a good poem. I think I’ll write another one that is true, about my race with Ken.
    Dad interrupts my thoughts. He clears his throat and says, “Kate. Ken. We have some bad news. We’ve wondered about the best way to tell you.” He pauses. Then he says, “But there isn’t a best way.”
    I suddenly feel chilled all over, like somebody poured ice water over me. That great feeling I had a few seconds ago is gone. It’s like somebody just flicked a switch. There’s something in his voice I’ve never heard before. Something that scares me.
    I look at Dad, but I can’t make eye contact with him. His eyes don’t stay on any one thing. They move back and forth from the ground, the lake, the picnic table. Everywhere but us. I try to imagine what the bad news is. How bad can it possibly be? It can’t be a divorce. A lot of my classmates’ parents have gotten divorced, but I know mine never will. They love each other too much.
    I hope we’re not going to move. I’ve lived in the same house practically forever. All my good friends live close by. I wonder if something’s happened to Grandma or Grandpa.
    “We don’t know quite how to tell you, and we thought being together here at the lake might be the best way…”
    Now I’m really scared by the way his eyes look, by the trouble he’s having trying to