Wild Pitch Read Online Free PDF

runs could score. What would a freak thing like that do to him?
     Talk about humiliation!
    “Get ’er out of there, Eddie, boy!” Rod said in a steady chatter from first base. “Get ’er out of there, boy!”
    He stepped on the mound, absently ran his arm across his forehead, and took a quick glance at the sweat he had wiped off.
     He couldn’t believe it. She was making him sweat.
    I’m going to strike you out, Monahan, he promisedsilently. I’m going to show you that girls don’t belong on a boys’ team.
    “Put it here, baby!” Tip yelled, tapping the pocket of his mitt with his fist. “Right here, baby!”
    Eddie stretched, and delivered. The ball streaked for the outside corner, missed it by an inch. Monahan let it go.
    “Ball!” said the ump.
    “Make it be in there, Eddie!” said Paul.
    Eddie let go another. This one started to cut the inside corner, and Monahan swung. The sound of bat meeting ball was solid.
     The ball shot out to left field, a high, arcing drive that looked as if it might go over the fence. The yell that started
     from the Surfs’ fans began to grow and grow.
    Eddie watched the ball, his breath caught in his throat. The white dot kept curving, kept curving toward the left, and finally
     struck the fence about five feet left of the foul line.
    “Foul!” yelled the home-plate umpire.
    The fans’ yell changed from one of hope to a groan of disappointment.
    Cries deluged him. “Hey, man! Are you lucky!”
    “She’s got your number, Eddie!”
    “What do you think of
that
power for a girl, Eddie?”
    He tried to ignore them. It was a lucky hit, he toldhimself. The pitch was just right for her. Waist high. Inside corner. She’d be a lousy hitter if she
hadn’t
hit it, foul or not.
    The ump handed Tip a new ball. Tip tossed it to Eddie. Eddie rubbed it around in his hands. He always liked the feel of a
     new ball. It felt as if it were his own, that he could control its destiny.
    The ump stretched out his arms and held out a finger from each hand to show the crowd the count.
    Tip signaled for a curve. Eddie’s nod was almost imperceptible. He stretched and threw.
    The ball shot toward the inside of the plate, and high. Monahan started to lean into it, pulling her bat back in readiness
     to swing.
    Suddenly her eyes widened in fear. She started to turn her head, to duck away from the incoming pitch. Eddie froze as he saw
     the direction the ball was taking.
It wasn’t going where he intended it to! It was streaking for her head!
    “Duck!” he shouted. “Duck!”
    She tried, but the throw was too fast for her, too close. The ball struck her in the back of her head. It glanced off her
     helmet and bounced high into the air, landing near the backstop screen.
    She collapsed in the batter’s box, and didn’t move.

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    Eddie stared, mouth open, frozen. He saw Tip
standing by the plate, staring at the fallen batter as if he were stricken, too.
    The plate umpire was the first one to reach her. He knelt beside her, clutched her hand, talked to her. He was nervous, worried.
     The two base umpires were running forward, too.
    Players poured out from both dugouts.
    “Hold it!” Coach Inger commanded his men. “You guys stay here!”
    The Surfs’ coach was running toward his girl star, oblivious to his team’s running close at his heels. Fear and anxiety filled
     their faces and eyes.
    Eddie heard the word “ambulance,” and saw one of the base umpires heading toward the narrow opening between the backstop screen
     and the Lancers’ dugout.
    He stood awhile, immobilized, feeling as if he were watching a scene on television.
    He saw Surf players glare accusingly at him.
    “You did it on purpose, Rhodes,” a red-haired kid snapped at him.
    “Yeah,” snarled another, lips drawn up at the corners.
    A kid came running from the third-base bleachers, a tall, big-boned kid with dark hair and wild eyes, fists clenched.
    “You louse!” he shouted at Eddie, ready to swing at him. “You