All the Way to the Duck Pond by Sandra Beswetherick

 All the Way to the Duck Pond by Sandra Beswetherick

“Here’s an easy out,” Wade says from behind his catcher’s mask.

“Don’t listen to him,” I tell Nicole as she goes up to bat.

 It’s spring, and for the past three weeks that’s meant baseball in gym class. Teams. With me and my best friend, Nicole, almost always being chosen last.

“Everyone move in!” calls Amanda, signaling to the fielders from the pitcher’s mound.

“You’ll be sorry!” I shout.

“Yeah, right,” Wade says as he squats down behind home plate.

 Brandon, the best baseball player in the whole school, collapses on third base and yawns. “Hurry up, shrimp. Don’t take all day.”

Shrimp. That’s what practically everyone at school calls Nicole and me. The shrimps. It isn’t our fault we’re the smallest. And just because we’re small doesn’t mean we aren’t good.

“Ignore him, Nicole,” I say from our bench behind home plate. “What he says doesn’t matter.”

Nicole glances back at me.

At least I wish it didn’t matter. It’ll get you down if you let it.

“You can hit that ball!” I say. “I’ve seen you!”

“Yeah? Where?” asks Laura, sitting beside me on the bench.

“In the city park next to her house,” I say right back. “Last Saturday.”

Laura doesn’t believe me. No one does. No one believes that Nicole can clobber that ball. And it’s making Nicole not believe it, too. Her body’s all stiff. She’s standing all wrong. She’s choking up too far on the bat.

Amanda pitches. The ball goes way up, then drops down. Why can’t she pitch to Nicole the same way she pitches to everyone else?

Nicole swings hard, misses, and spins like a top.

Ron, the first baseman, laughs. Brandon, lying on his back, folds his hands under his head, using third base as a pillow. Even Ms. Perce makes a face that says ouch.

“Nicole, you can do it!” I say. “Just pretend you’re in the park, like last Saturday!”

Last Saturday—when we didn’t play on teams. When we just took turns with the neighborhood kids. And when no one called us shrimps or dared to move in from the outfield when we were at bat.

Nicole looks at me again. This time she smiles, I think, even though the smile is crooked. But she fixes her grip on the bat.

Amanda pitches really slowly again. It’s as if the ball will never reach home plate. But Nicole leans forward and swings.

Thunk!

She hits it! For the first time ever at school, she actually hits it! The ball pops up, then bounces to the ground behind her. Foul ball.

“See, Nicole?” I shout. “You can hit that ball!”

“Big deal,” Laura says. “It didn’t go anywhere.”

“Hit it again!” I yell, ignoring Laura. “Harder!”

Nicole’s smile isn’t so crooked anymore. She takes a deep breath and lets it out. She spreads her feet wider apart and bends her knees a little. Then she takes a few practice swings.

Nicole’s getting ready to show everyone. I just know it. She’s going to blast that ball like she did last Saturday when she whammed it into the duck pond.

“Action, at last!” It’s Brandon on third. He’s standing up, getting ready. “Let’s see you really slam it.” This time he isn’t teasing.

Nicole glances in his direction. Her smile grows wider. She takes one more practice swing.

Amanda throws the ball. It’s another slow one.

“Come on, Nicole!” My hands are clenched together in a knot. “Hit it all the way to the duck pond!” I don’t care if nobody but Nicole understands what I mean.

Nicole steps forward, bringing the bat back over her shoulder. I squeeze my hands even tighter and almost close my eyes.

 Craaack!

The ball sails high over Amanda’s head. Amanda stands there with her mouth hanging open, watching it go. And the fielders—for a second, it’s as if their feet grew roots into the ground.

“Run, Nicole!” I holler.

She crosses first base, then keeps going to second and third. Dust flies up behind her.

“Home, Nicole!” I’m jumping up and down, going wild. I’m the only one cheering because everyone else is too surprised. Even Ms. Perce looks amazed as Nicole goes tearing past her.

“Yeesss!” I scream.

It’s a home run! A for-real home run! I knew she could do it. Nicole knew it, too. She just needed someone to help her believe.

“Hey, shrim—I mean, Nicole,” Brandon calls. “All right!”

The way Nicole crosses home plate—it’s as if she made home runs every day of the week. Then she picks up the bat and hands it to me. “Your turn,” she says, smiling.

“OK!” yells Amanda to the fielders. “Everyone spread out!”

I step up to home plate, bat in my hands, ready for whatever pitches come my way.