The Keeper of Secrets Read Online Free PDF Page B

sake.”
    “Precisely. He’s fourteen and Sarah Chang was performing with major orchestras, in concerts broadcast worldwide, by the time she was eleven. He doesn’t have time to waste on damn baseball.”

Chapter 5
    D aniel was so furious he could barely bike straight. He flew through the air and came down hard on the dirt bumps. The sudden thumps jarred his body and almost twisted the front wheel sideways. He liked the sensation, it suited his mood. They couldn’t do that. They just couldn’t . He’d known he’d have to choose someday but not yet; he was nowhere near ready to give a concert of his own. Besides, baseball was one of the few things left that made him feel normal, one of the gang. When he put on his glove, he wasn’t some strange nerd who went to a special school; he was “Dan the Man,” a baseball-playing Cub. He was good at third base; it was his special place on the diamond and he was a king there.
    Perhaps he could appeal to Mr. D., make him understand, but he dismissed the idea in an instant; he’d never see how important baseball was. Nope, his father was the best hope. His father loved baseball too and he’d played the violin as a kid. But even Daniel knew his father didn’t win the important battles in their house. He couldn’t help feeling vaguely hurt and betrayed by his father’s decision and what he saw as collusion with the enemy.
    He burst out of the forest and onto the track to the road. Head down and legs pumping, he went as hard as he could, along the road and through the gates to the field. His teammates stood in a circle by the dugout. He threw down the bike and ran to join them.
    “Nice of you to make it,” Tony teased, and Daniel gave him a shove.
    “Where’s your stuff?” asked Aaron.
    Daniel dug the toe of his Reebok into the dirt.
    “Can’t play.”
    “What! Why not?”
    “You sick or something?”
    All eyes were on him.
    “Mr. D. told Dad it might hurt my fingers, so I’ve got to give it up—”
    “No way!”
    “But he’s not even your real teacher anymore. Can he do that?”
    “Man, that sucks!”
    Among the general sounds of amazement, anger, and sympathy, one by one the boys drifted away to start the game. Soon only Aaron was left.
    “Are you gonna do what they say?”
    Daniel looked at him and he could see that Aaron understood.
    “Guess so, you know what Mom’s like.”
    “Well, we can still have catches and stuff, if you like.”
    Daniel shrugged. “Whatever.”
    “I . . . I better go. Come over later and I’ll whip your ass at Tomb Raider . Okay?”
    “Maybe.”
    Aaron hesitated. “Are you gonna watch us?”
    Daniel turned away quickly. “Nope. See ya.”
    “Yeah.”
    He walked to his bike, picked it up, and rode away without a backward glance. He fought the tears for as long as he could—fourteen-year-olds didn’t cry—but grief was a new emotion and he couldn’t beat it. Eventually he didn’t wipe the tears off his cheeks until he had to and only then because his eyes were so full he couldn’t see where he was going.
    T he next morning Daniel had a rehearsal in the local hall for the youth orchestra’s summer concert, an eclectic mixture of light classical, show tunes, and American favorites. The conductor, Mr. Simmonds the chemist, was as enthusiastic as he was amateur. But all the kids loved him because he imparted his passion for the music and explained the stories behind the pieces. The skill levels differed widely, so the odd extra note or early entrance was par for the course. No one really cared and they all ended up in the same place at roughly the same time. Daniel was the star attraction. His mother was concerned he might pick up bad habits from Mr. Simmonds and had taken some persuading to let him play this year. Normally Daniel enjoyed it, but today nothing could bring a smile to his face. His playing was mediocre and mechanical and he didn’t stay for the postrehearsal Coke, cookies, and chat about the music.
    His