The 823rd Hit Read Online Free PDF

agreed.
    â€œGuys!” Abby said.
    â€œIt’s OK. He can keep a secret,” I said. I leaned in and whispered, “Abby is the designated pitcher.”
    â€œThere’s no such thing,” said Casey.
    â€œThat’s what makes her such a great secret weapon.”
    â€¢ • •
    Since the first game was in Rosedale, I went to Casey’s house to listen to it on the radio. I brought my homework with me. It was the only way Mom and Dad would let me go.
    Dylan was already in the living room, munching on popcorn.
    â€œYou’re here too?” I said in surprise. Dylan was a batboy, but he wasn’t a big baseball fan.
    â€œWell, I might have to break up a fight between you and Casey,” he joked.
    A black blur leaped from the sill between the living room and the porch and landed on the back of the couch. It was Arthur, the scary black cat that almost never left the porch. He took a couple of swipes at the cushion, which was already in shreds, then hopped onto Dylan’s lap.
    Dylan gave the cat’s head a scratch, and Arthur started to purr.
    Casey stared. “That cat hates everybody!”
    â€œThis guy? Come on,” said Dylan.
    Arthur raised his chin so Dylan could stroke his neck.
    â€œHe sure doesn’t like me,” said Uncle Marvin. “And I feed him every day.”
    â€œHe doesn’t like me, either,” said Casey.
    â€œThat cat scares me,” I said.
    Dylan rubbed the cat’s ears. “Who’s the big bad cat?” he asked.
    Arthur just purred louder.

asey’s parents were out looking at houses. Uncle Marvin made us sloppy joes, which were pretty good. Dylan had a hard time eating his with Arthur on his lap. Arthur was purring so loudly that Casey had to turn up the radio. The game was tied, 0–0, after four innings. Both Lance Pantaño and Damien Ricken were pitching a great game.
    After dinner, Casey and I did our homework at the coffee table. Dylan had to prop up atextbook on his knee so he could do his math problems. Arthur was still in his lap, eyes closed and purring up a storm. The game remained scoreless after eight innings. It was nearly time to go home, so I hoped the Porcupines scored soon.
    â€œI bet the Rogues get a walk-off win in the bottom of the ninth,” said Casey. “I’d love to see it. I would be there in person if we hadn’t moved!”
    â€œDon’t worry. They won’t,” I said. I hoped I was right.
    Arthur finally woke up. He stood up in Dylan’s lap, stretched, then jumped to the floor and wandered off.
    â€œNice cat,” said Dylan. “But I think my leg fell asleep.” He jiggled it.
    Casey’s mom and dad came in. They went on and on about a house they had seen. “There’sa great room for you,” Casey’s mom told him. “It’s got built-in shelves for all your baseball cards.”
    â€œHold on. Something just happened.” Casey turned up the radio. You could hear crowd noise. None of us had been paying attention.
    The announcer was talking over a hiss of noise: “The scoreless game is finally broken up by—”
    â€œHurrah!” Casey pumped his fist.
    â€œSammy Solaris!” the commentator said. “And the Porcupines take a one-run lead in the top of the ninth.”
    â€œDrat!” Casey put his arms down. “I thought the Rogues were still batting.”
    I was biting my nails when Ryan Kimball came out to pitch the bottom of the ninth. It was still 1–0.
    â€œKimball’s really good,” I told Casey. “Evenyour man Damien Ricken said so. What about that?”
    â€œI know. But the game’s not over till it’s over,” he said.
    Ryan Kimball got three straight outs, and the Porcupines won, 1–0.
    Casey chewed on his lower lip for a second. “I was sure the Rogues would win with Ricken pitching,” he said.
    I tried not to smirk. “Ricken did pitch really